Taken by fate

Chapter 6

Sitting with my back pressed against the wall, thinking about my mom painting, hearing the door open shutting down all my thoughts. Thundering steps echoing from the stairs as you came down. Listening for the steps to get closer but they didn't. Instead I heard the chains rustle, my eyes growing wide not even getting a chance to yell stop before the collar started to drag my body forwards. Wrapping my hands around the links trying to pull back using all my weight with no use. A screwed up game of tug-a-war that I was inevitably bound to lose.
"Stop! No!"
Grunting as I was being pulled to the center of the room, fighting every second. Even when I was directly under the holder in the ceiling the chain continued to tighten, the metal digging into my throat cutting off my air supply as it yanked me into a standing position. Gripping the collar wanting to pry away the pressure enough to get in a good breath.
Terror rose through out my entire being as I wondered if you were going to stop or just keep on pulling until I was hanging in the air. Nothing but the collar holding me up, watching as I struggled to find breath.
Was this how I was going to die?
Bracing myself on the tips of my toes when I felt the chain settle, still tight but no longer being pulled. Tipping my head back in order to get in a few needed breaths while regaining focus. In the struggle I had completely lost which way I was facing, realizing now as the bed came into view that you were to the right of me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as you wrapped the chain back onto the wall, a link already snug on the pipe. You were watching me too.
"See that's better now isn't it? You can see me and I can see you."
It was then that you started to walk towards me. Every instinct I had told me to run but with even the slightest step away the collar gripped tighter keeping me in place. With my last bit of hope I turned away from you, the only thing I was able to do.
In seconds you had pressed your entire body onto my backside, causing all the air I had gotten in my lungs to dissipate. Clenching my hands on the collar, needing something to hold onto.
Your fingers ran across my cheek sliding my hair back behind my shoulder. Shutting my eyes tight as you leaned down closer.
"Have you ever never been touched before?"
Tears streaming down past my chin, lips twitching as silent sobs escaped from my mouth. The hand that had been in my hair slowly ran down my back sending chills along my arms. Arching my head away from your words only to open a space for your lips to brush lightly across my neck.
Your other hand wrapped around my stomach pulling me closer into you, your body warm, hard.
"Stop." Please, please stop."
The hand that had rested on my stomach was now raising up until you had my entire left breast in your grip. Squeezing over and over, as your other hand moved down. 
"NO!" Shaking my head, ramming my legs together as tight as I could get them. Emotions filling me, too many, all at once. Never in my life have I felt anything close to this.
Fingers moving down my hip, past the silk onto my skin. Rough, calloused hands scratching along my thigh as I continued to squirm, soft coos whispering into my ear as if that was going to calm me down.
Wrapping one of your feet between mine, stepping down, forcing my legs apart. The hand that was running down my thigh was now moving up, up, up.
"DON'T! Please just stop! Please! PLEASE!"
Suddenly the pressure was gone. Your hands were no longer on me anymore and I let out a sigh of relief. Choked sobs filling the air as you walked around, releasing my death grip on the collar, crossing my arms over my chest, prying my nails into my flesh.
"Your mine." Grabbing my head forcing me to look up at you. "I'm going to take care of you."

Startling awake.
"Don't move. Please." The voice was the same but so different from the one I just heard.
Opening my eyes as the cement wall came into view, halfway into a sitting position, propped up on my elbow. A nightmare, it wasn't happening, I was still in bed, and you were down here.
"Why?" Fully awake now my body tensed ready to fight you off.
"I'm almost finished."
An image of you jerking off went through my thoughts though the sound wasn't right. Listening harder to find the words to better describe the noise.
Scratching, sweeping.
"What are you doing?"
"Drawing you."
Surprised by that, being one of the last things I would have guessed. Dropping back onto the pillow staying in place.
Once again going over all the things that had happened. What you said, how you spoke. The regret that was in your eyes. Was that real? Was any of it?
"Can I see? When you're done?" Trying to make my voice come out sweet.
No answer and I didn't dare to ask again.
I was even more wary of you now.
Taking the lives of two girls, all your reactions were confusing, bi polar almost. Was that what was wrong with you?
With the way you cradled me in your arms I had reasons to believe that somewhere deep down you were actually caring. You had said that you cared for your mother when she was sick and you actually sounded genuinely upset when you told me of her passing.
Thinking that if I could get you to understand that I was a person and not just another girl on your list, that I had my own mother at home. A mom that was going insane trying to figure out where I was.
Maybe I could talk you into letting me go.
A plan that meant that I was going to have to get closer to you, get you to open up more. Listen to your stories and get you to listen to mine.
It may not be the most comfortable option but maybe if I could play on your emotions, get you to see that by taking me you're also hurting my parents too. I just had to be careful on how I did this. How your entire body changed when I brought up your dad and how bitter you got towards him.
"Done."
Hugging the pillow to my chest using it to cover my chest as I sat up crossing my legs placing the pillow in my lap.
You were sitting on the overturned green bucket, sleeves rolled up on your flannel, ankle settled on the opposite knee. Black dust covered most of your  right hand with even more shadowing your brown and chin. Eyes filled with a boyish gleam as you looked over your work.
"Beautiful." Looking right at me as you said that.
An unexpected warmth filled my cheeks, forearms resting on the pillow.
"Your standards for beauty must be really low."
No one had ever called me beautiful before beside my parents but that doesn't count. Words taking me by surprise. In reality I was painstakingly average. Not skinny though I wasn't fat either, usually wearing high waisted jeans or skirts to hide my stomach. Legs that were slightly long, the only thing that gave me any height with my short torso.
Thankfully I have never had a problem with acne but that was probably from scrubbing my face clean every night before bed. Long hair, almost down to my waist, all the same shade of light brown. Small nose, big lips, none of it was proportional. When I would look in the mirror I thought of myself as a chipmunk with my chubby cheeks.
The only thing I really liked about myself were my eyes. I had my fathers eyes, blue with a hint of green around the pupils. They reminded me of the ocean. My mom always said that my dad's eyes were what drew her to him. "I love getting lost in those eyes' ' my mom would say, causing my dad to smile.
Looks were never my top priority, practically avoiding mirrors and makeup which drove my mother the artist crazy. Fashion never was one of my strong suits either, preferring to be comfy switching to sweat pants whenever I would get home. Everyday outfits consisted of jeans, a tank top and an over shirt or jacket. The silky lingerie that I was wearing now never would have made it into my closet let alone on my body.
Fiddling with my nails noticing that you were looking at me with your head cocked to the side.
"Whatever it was that led you to believe that you're anything but beautiful is wrong." Saying that as if it were a fact, shaking my head refusing to agree.
Nodding towards the paper to change the subject, making myself reach out for it pretending like this was a normal interaction.
Turning the paper from my sight, your eyes on me, they were always on me. Holding back a shrill keeping up the sweet facade as I brought my sight to yours.
"Please." Cocking my head to the side, hand still outreached.
"I don't usually show people my work."
"Not even when they're the ones you drew?"
"Especially then, besides I haven't done this in a while. It's not good enough."
There was worry in your voice, the same tone my mom used when she hadn't quite finished working on something.
"I don't care."
"Do you really want to see?"
"I do."
Reaching further out as you placed the paper in my hand, not letting go.
"If you don't like it just tell me, I can do better, that's just a sketch."
Pushing the corners of my mouth up in what I hoped looked like a smile as I brought the creamy paper closer suppressing an eye roll at how frazzled you were acting then catching my breath  as I turned the paper over.
It was of me, or my backside at least. Following along the curves how my top leg was resting bent while the other stayed straight. The end of the nightgown rested high showing the line between my butt cheeks. There was some shadowing where my spine was defining my back. Hair drawn wildly, falling down my back settling onto the mattress.
A picture from Titanic when Jack drew Rose naked. Fully expecting to hate whatever it was that you drew but amazed at the amount of detail you added with the charcoal. I had never seen myself like this before.
"Wow."
"See you are beautiful, you just needed someone to show you."
Sure my mom made art mainly working in colors and splatter but those were mainly just abstract. This. This was so much more real.
"You would think that you'd never seen a drawing before." Tone light and cheery.
"Not like this. Not of me." Speaking more to myself than to you. "How long have you been drawing for?"
"I used to do it all the time when I was younger, wanting to make my mothers stories come to life. Kept at it a little when I got older, having to focus on work. Haven't picked up a drawing pad in awhile."
"Why not?"
"Haven't felt like it."
"And now?"
"You inspired me."
Inspired you, swallowing the bile that rose in the back of my throat. Staying quite not wanting to respond to that, fingers hovering over the figure on the paper.
"You can keep that if you want."
Did I want to keep this? Were you going to? All I was doing was sleeping, laying there in bed and yet I wanted to keep it. To be able to follow the lines and curves again and again.
"Thank you."
That had been the second time those words left my lips. Still feeling odd thanking the one who stole me, one thing I thought I would never do.
In fact I didn't understand any of this, why were you being so nice to me? Were you just trying to get me to let my guard down before you dove in for the kill? Moving the paper aside, no longer wanting to look at it.
"How does your throat feel?"
Catching me off guard looking directly at your eyes seeing actual concern outline them. Was that real? Why did you care?
"Why am I here exactly?"
"You're here because I want you here." Nothing in your voice had changed, no emotion to give me even the slightest of hints.
"But why, I don't understand?" Pleading with you knowing that my eyes had widened, eyebrows scrunched together in frustration.
"There's nothing to understand. I wanted you so I got you."
"And that makes it ok." All the anger that I had been balling up exploded out, the dame of emotions flooding out.
"You kidnapped me! Took me away from my life! From my parents and friends! From everything that I know and I don't even know how long I've been here!" Shaking from the amount of hatred pultruding from the entire situation. "You took everything away from me. The least you can do is tell me why I am here!"
When I finally finished with my uncontrollable rant I was breathing heavily, not having meant to say any of that out loud.
Unable to meet your eyes, focusing on my fingers tapping them against each other, watching as the tips turned a solid white each time they came together.
How were you going to react to this outburst? Why did I even have the courage to say all that, knowing good and well that you could overtake me at any minute, for any reason.
"Is the fact of me wanting you here not enough?"
"Not when you get tired of me and kill me to move on to the next girl."
This time when I spoke it came out as a whisper losing all the accusing tone that I had seconds before.
"I'm not going to kill you" words coming out choppy as if you couldn't even process what I had said. "I'm going to keep you forever."
Eyeballs almost popped out of my head as I held my breath shaking my head viciously.
"They'll find me, they'll save me."
"You've been here for four days if anyone was coming for you they would have been here by now."
My stomach dropped. "No, no no. NO! You're lying, you have to be. My parents are looking for me, the police.."
"The police never do their jobs." There was hatred in your tone, was that towards me?
"My parents wont stop until they find me."
"Then they will be searching for you forever."
"Then let me go. Please."
"I'm going to take care of you, trust me."
"I just want to go home." Words coming out broken and windy.
"You are home." Your voice was once again calm and steady, as if you fully believed what you were saying to be true. Leaning towards me but I quickly scurried back from your hand.
Getting up from the bucket leaving it in place as you walked to the stairs stopping at the bottom step.
"Just give it time, you'll see." Heading up the stairs pausing once again at the door before disappearing completely.
Frustrated, turning to the side wanting to rip up the drawing wanting to destroy the thing that you made but it was gone. So was the hair brush. Nothing to throw, nothing to destroy. Silk clinging to my clammy skin, holding on to every inch that it covered. I wanted it off.
Lace ripping easily, snapping the thin straps in the process   Clumping the bit at my waist digging my nails in, the silk giving more resistance at the seam but tearing all the same. Continuing to rip, tear, yank until there was nothing left but scraps, fragments of what it once was. Now at least I had something to wipe my ass with.
"Forever."
I was going to be stuck here forever.
Four days.
Time passed, I didn't move, didn't care to do anything. All of my energy was gone. Staring blankly at the wall in front of me.
Four days.
Getting up to pee then going back to bed pulling the pillow in front to cover my now naked body settling my head down on top.
This time I smelt you before you came down, before the door had even opened. Smelling the cooked buttery potatoes from all the way down the stairs.
You had promised me food, I remembered, my stomach quenching as you headed down. Plate in hand. A sandwich, that had been all I had to eat in four days. No wonder I was so hungry.
When you sat the food down next to me I made no move to reach for the steaming goodness not wanting you to know how much I really wanted to devour the entire thing. Eyes followed you as you leaned down to the floor picking up the shredded silks pieces. 
Did that make you mad that I destroyed what you had put on me?
No comment as you stood up, unbuttoning the flannel shirt that you were wearing, the same one you had on this morning. Each button popping open, one by one. Revealing rich smooth skin, once again enthralled by the muscles, watching how they reacted with your movements.
Sliding the sleeves from your arms, letting me have a full view. Those arms had been around me, recalling the iron grip as you pulled me away, then again as I laid in your lap.
Cowering into the pillow as you took a step closer.
Maybe that was too much, were you so mad that you couldn't speak, about to smack me to teach me a lesson. One hit and that would be it. I would be knocked unconscious.
Clenching my teeth, shutting my eyes as you came closer not wanting to see what was going to happen. Flinching as something ran across my back and over my shoulders.
"That should work for now. I'll grab you a clean shirt when you finish eating."
Confused, I looked up to see that you were standing there half naked your shirt now wrapped around me.
Asking myself for the millionth time why? The word, forever, bouncing around my thoughts. You wanted me and now I was here. What would happen when you realized that I never wanted you back. Is that what happened to the others, why they were no longer here? They rejected you so you got rid of them?
Keeping the pillow over me as I slid my arms into the sleeves. On you the shirt fit snug, making me realize once again how small I was compared to you. Thinking that I could fit my entire body inside though I was glad for the extra room the way you couldn't see my every curve anymore.
Finally allowing myself to look over at the bowl, appetite lost until I saw what you had brought. Mashed potatoes, a roll smothered in butter, and chicken cut up into bite size pieces with a plastic fork in the middle and a brand new water on the side.
Thankful that the sleeves were already rolled up nabbing the plate scooping a forkful of potatoes. Butter melting against my tongue as I swallowed, already going in for a piece of chicken. Juicy, tender, tasting lemon and pepper, mouth watering. 
"Take your time."
Glancing at the plate seeing that it was already half gone.
"If you're still hungry I can make you more or if you want dessert I can bring down some chocolate cake."
"Only if you have vanilla ice cream too." Response of habit mentally slapping myself in the face. Anytime someone offered chocolate cake I always asked for vanilla ice cream. The cake by itself was top dry and the ice cream made it sweeter, creamier, the perfect pairing. How could I ask the guy that refused to let me go for ice cream of all things. Stupid.
"I can see if I do. If not, I can always go get some."
Go get some. Of course you could. You can come and go as you please because this was your place after all. Four walls, technically only three that I could reach with a bucket as a toilet, another as a makeshift seat, this bed and this stupid collar.
These things were all that I had now. Wearing a shirt that wasn't even mine in a strange place, sitting on this bed while you rested your back against the foot post. Arms resting on your legs, comfortable even though you were half naked.
Pushing the food aside, no longer hungry, the pillow dropped onto the floor as I stood up. Shirt end falling mid thigh, rolled sleeves hanging almost to my wrists. 
This shouldn't be like this. Right now I should be at home or school depending on the time, studying, talking to Amara about the dance coming up.
Then there was you, my kidnapper slash killer, who was offering me food saying that you would get me ice cream. Giving me the shirt off your back instead of leaving me naked. All your muscles, I felt them when you took me, how strong you are and yet those were the same arms, same hands that consoled me after I nearly choked myself to death.
So confused, I couldn't grasp what was happening. Couldn't make sense of anything really. Waiting to be rescued, waiting to die, waiting for you to snap and attack me, waiting for the police to barge through the doors, waiting for you to bring down food, waiting. That's all I was doing.
More than anything I wanted to feel the sun on my face, wanted to soak in its warmth, feel the breeze on my skin.
Pressure on my shoulder, sometime during my thought process you had gotten off the bed and were now behind me.
Taking a step away, your hand sliding off.
"What can I do to make this better?"
"Let me go."
Keeping my position, eyes locked on the wall in front of me.
"We've already talked about this."
What little bit of pointless hope that I had that your answer might be different faded away.
"Then leave."
Steps, soft as you backed away. Not believing that you were actually listening to me looking over my shoulder watching as you climbed the stairs two at a time.
That was when I saw the marks on your back.