The Only Exception

Nineteen

~Lainey~

I don't even know how long I've been away from home now. I got cocky one too many times and the pain of my undoubtedly broken arm is too distracting for me to notice the passing of time. What I do know is Andrew isn't in charge and this is a hell of a lot bigger than I ever thought it was. 

They have me locked in a dank room that's about 20 feet by 20 feet and it is practically empty. Except the toilet in the corner and the disgusting mattress on the floor. It was thought out though. They had it planned. I was pacing the room almost constantly, not even thinking of a way to get out, just trying to work out who it was and what I could do from right here to make it messy enough for them to slip up just enough for whoever cared enough to find me. 

I really hope someone cares enough. 

I was trying to keep a track of days since the injuries were inflicted. The only window in here helped with that. The sun blared through here when it was rising. An alarm clock in it's own right. It was 3 mornings since my arm was broken. Since in the darkness of the night 2 guys, reeking of whiskey, came into the cell and beat me until I co barely breathe, stomping a foot onto my forearm in the process of making me stay still. I heard it crack and screamed out getting me a tonne of punishment I don't want to relive. 

This is about power and control and them wanting to feel like men. I miss what I had with Spencer. Fun and feeling safe. I never expected him to stay more than a few days but he had. It's having him hold me no matter what's going on. No one has every cared enough to stay like he did. He was more of a man than anyone I'd spent the night with, than any guy who'd taken me on a date. I hate that I'm working this out now. 

I felt like my body was being mutilated and if they were willing to break my bones for whatever they wanted, I wasn't going to fight them off. The pain I was in right now with my arm alone was too much to risk any more. 

A collection of muffled voices stop me in my tracks in the middle of the cell. It's too quiet down here usually. I'm in some kind of parking garage. I hadn't been taken inside whatever building it was when Andrew got me here. The cell was at the back of this big warehouse and there was a cars coming and going multiple times a day. Not a public car park. It was definitely private.  

I moved to the wall slightly, pressing my ear to the plasterboard so I could try and make out what was being said. 

"No. I've been watching the cameras constantly. No one's home." 

"Good. Get the door code off her. We don't need any alarms triggering. I want that place ransacking. Take anything worth anything." I stepped back into the middle of the room, the woman's voice circling around my head. The hint of an English accent that had been covered for years. I recognised it. Where from was a whole other question though. 

The door opened, Andrew walking in and having it close behind him. Daylight shone through the window, painting a collection of small, blurry squares onto my back and the floor in the middle of the room. 

"You're looking a little worse for wear trouble." He pulled his suit jacket off, loosening his tie as he dropped it to the floor, taking a few short steps over to me. 

"Yeah, being locked in a cell, physically beaten up multiple times and having your arm broken will do that to you." He smirks. "What do you want Andrew? To add yourself to the list of people who have abused me?" 

"God no." He scoffs. "I wouldn't waste my energy on it."

"Perfectly happy to waste your breath though?" He slapped a hand across my face, leaving a burning hand print in it's wake. 

"You'd think after being here for 10 days you'd have learned to keep your cocky mouth shut unless you were spoken to." He sighed. "I need the door code to your apartment. I've got some things that need to be collected. If it's wrong, I'll be making sure you've got a second broken arm to match the first so don't even fucking try me. The longer this takes, the worse the punishment gets. Your dad's going to understand how serious we are about this one way or another. You better hope the apartment is the thing that tips him over the edge because I really don't want to be shipping body parts to his office. It's too risky." I swallow as he pulls out a phone, holding it to his ear. "Code. Now." 

"1703." He repeats it. Waits a second and nods his head, hanging up the phone and grabbing his jacket. "Andrew." 

"What?" 

"The safe code is the same." I swallow again. "There's jewellery in my closet untouched. Gift receipts are probably still in the bags." He stares at me, nods once and knocks so the door opens. Andrew steps out, turns with his hand on the door. 

"I'll stop anyone coming in. Call it a reward for the code." And the door slammed shut. I stumbled backwards, slipping down the back wall to the floor. 

I really fucking hope Spencer left. Moved on with his life and isn't at home right now. If I die here at least he's safe elsewhere and he'll forget about me as easily as he did the first time around. God knows he's perfect enough to find someone else quickly.