Captive

Chapter Fourteen

Juliet curled up in a tight ball on her bed, hugging herself tight and trying to stem the pain which swept through her, worse than any physical pain it was the agony of her memories and her desire to run from everything. To run from her memories, to run from the house and to run from herself. Her self doubt had never been stronger than it was in this moment. She didn't cry though, just curled into herself as her mind told her that this was all her own fault; she had brought it on herself. Who was she to believe she could ever have any kind of happiness? Worthless. Ugly inside and out. Whore. Waste of space. Nobody wants you! Her hands came up to cover her ears, as if the words had been spoken out loud in the room and Socks patted her suddenly with his paw, as if he heard those words too. As the early morning light filtered through the window, she sat up slowly. At some point she must have fallen asleep because her covers were wrapped tight around her legs, restraining her. It caused a brief moment of panic before she realised she was in her bedroom. Shifting onto her back, Juliet stared up at the ceiling, her mind going over and over everything that had happened the night before. That brief moment of surprised happiness when Shawn had kissed her, made her feel wanted, noticed. And then Bret, his fists clenched, his anger permeating every molecule in the air around her, crushing her with its weight so that she could only watch, horrified as he struck Shawn hard before he was restrained. His angry words fired across the bar.

"She is mine! She belongs to me!"

As if she were a possession, an object, rather than a human being with thoughts and feelings of her own. Her eyes closed briefly as she recalled his hand tight around her wrist, dragging her out to his car, throwing her inside. Her hip had caught on the gear stick before she righted herself and she knew it was bruised. The silent drive back to the house as her fear had grown in the face of his anger which reverberated around the car. Being dragged into that forbidden office. Why had he chosen that room to take her into it? Was it to intimidate her? It had worked if that was his purpose. His voice roaring at her, calling her a whore because another man had kissed her. But why? He didn't want her; he'd made that clear with all the different women he brought home, flaunting them and what he did with them under her nose. She brought a hand to her throat recalling how her voice had frozen there, how she had struggled to speak, unable to frame the words as her terror created a noose about her neck. It had almost seemed to happen in slow motion, his face ugly with rage as his hand came back. Even as he brought it back she hadn't believed he would allow it to strike but then pain had blossomed on her cheek, her skin fired by his harsh touch. There had been silence, intense silence which made her ears ring. She heard him say her name as she turned away from him, walked slowly up the stairs to her room, numb with shock.

On autopilot she went through the motions of washing, cleaning her teeth, putting on her pyjamas. It had been as she brushed her hair that her eyes found the pendant at her throat, glinting red and gold mockingly at her in the mirror. With shaking fingers she struggled to undo the clasp then dropped the necklace on top of the drawers, unable to bear to look at it much less touch it again. It symbolised how she had thought she felt, how she had allowed herself to believe he felt. But the reality was there in the blazing mark upon her cheek; his contempt and his fury making their badge upon her skin. She was vaguely aware that her heart was aching as she sat down on her bed, facing away from the door, knowing that she needed her meds but not having the courage to go down to get them. He had brought them for her, filled her room with his presence, sat down beside her to tell her he shouldn't have done it. What did it matter what he should or shouldn't do? It was done and there was no turning back from it.

Juliet showered and dressed for the day, avoiding looking at her reflection, turning away from the mirror as she dried her hair and pulled an elastic round it to keep it from her face. The pendant was still on the drawers but she didn't want to look at it. It held the promise of a life she had not had and could not have. Opening the top drawer she brushed it inside then covered it over with her clothes. Folding her arms across her front protectively she went to stand at the window, looking out over the driveway and waited for the click of the lock behind her to announce that her captor was here.