Release Me

Part 16

Beyond the distant hum of traffic and the gentle thrum of the car's engine, silence swallowed me into its depths. Each whisper of air against my skin registered sharply in my heightened awareness, as though I was hearing the world through a microphone. My breath seemed magnified, each exhale echoing in the enclosed space.

My mind was a swirling tempest of questions. Was my anonymous contract owner furious? Where was this ominously silent journey leading me? An instinctual sense of caution, however, gagged these inquiries before they reached my lips. The abrasive texture of my denim jeans against my skin felt as though it grated against my nerves, while the cashmere blanket beneath me offered a gentle, silky contrast.

Images of the club, along with an exhaustive analysis of my every misstep, sped through my mind like a movie on fast forward. As the car devoured the miles, my thoughts spiraled downward, each revolution drawing me deeper into a quagmire of dread and anticipation - awaiting the inevitable retribution for my actions.

Is that really what I longed to feel? A place where I was held physically accountable for my actions? Dominick always said it was a need, and that I was more settled on the other side. I shook my head in denial and pushed the image of his face from my mind. If I'd wanted to go back, I would have done so in the last few months. By the time the car stopped, I was on the edge of self-induced panic. I fingered the necklace and reminded myself why I was in this situation. As the door creaked open, I was sucking in my third, lung-stretching breath, attempting to still the clamor within me.

"Trust me," the driver's voice echoed in my ears, a finger pressing gently on my shoulder to underscore his words, "the blindfold remains in place until further instruction."

I nodded, my throat too constricted to voice a reply.

With a firm hand at the small of my back, he guided and maneuvered me, his voice a compass against the darkness. Instructions were given when an obstacle surfaced, guiding me to step up, pause at the edge of a stair, his tactile directions a lighthouse in my sea of blindness.

The air shifted around me with a sudden 'whoosh,' a change in pressure making my ears pop and the temperature dropping noticeably, hinting at the entrance to a building. Still, the journey wasn't over. Rather than the thud on the harsh concrete of the outside walkway, my flat created an odd echo as we moved across what sounded like tile. Each step was smaller than the last until I was at a shuffle and the pressure on my back urged me forward.

We paused, then moved forward again, and the flooring turned to carpet, but that wasn't the first thing to grab my attention. It was the silence, so profound it was almost tangible, like stepping into an anechoic chamber where every sound is swallowed whole. There was no feedback, no echo, nothing more than the immediate sound of my breath, or the verbal direction of the driver.

"Wait here. Do not move until you are commanded to do otherwise." Then the pressure on my back disappeared, and I was left alone.

Time ticked by without measure. The smallest sound was like a crumb on an empty feasting table. I shifted my weight between my feet, glad I wasn't commanded to hold an uncomfortable position. It surprised me how the short months made an immense amount of difference in my expectations and endurance in such situations.

"Good evening, Atlas." The voice in the dark surrounded me from every angle, and I swiveled my head in confusion. "Close your eyes and take off the blindfold. You'll not need it here."

My hands felt heavy as I lifted them toward my eyes. I hesitated, unsure I wanted to face what was next, but when my fingers rubbed against the cloth, they betrayed me, lifting the fabric from my eyes. The blinding spotlight made me immediately regret my choice, and I slammed my eyes shut to block it out.