Evolutionary

XI. Entwickelt

*Warning: This chapter contains rape and violence. Read at your own discretion*

Cassie's POV

Today is the day. I slept without chains on last night, huddled in my favorite corner of the dirt-covered floor. I whispered, "Entwickelt," to the stone walls for hours, but they wouldn't allow The E to hear me. A lock slides out of place and the ominous door swings open to reveal Him. He comes over to me and brushes the hair out of my eyes, caressing my cheek. He reveals a tray behind his back, adorned with three items of food and a plastic cup of water. A turkey sandwich, potato salad and cup of peaches greet me this morning, almost mocking me with what's to come. I eat the food slowly, auto control taking over my limbs as I pretend I am somewhere else, enjoying a lovely lunch with the man I adore.

Oliver. I wish he could help me. I wish he could hear the pleas of help screaming from my brain. 

After I've finished my meal and gulped down the water, he takes my hands and wipes them clean with a handkerchief he keeps in his shirt pocket. He never fails to wear a black suit in my presence. I wish he'd wear something new. I look into his eyes, begging this to be a prank. The sparkle in his eyes that meets mine tells me that this is anything but. He grabs a pair of handcuffs, seemingly appearing out of thin air, and slaps my wrists into them. I willingly follow after him, not wanting to be dragged out into the maze. This time, I am careful to watch where he takes me. He takes a left, another left, a right, up an incline, left again, and another right to a much nicer section of the warehouse. The floor is made of linoleum, an upgrade to the dirty concrete flooring below. This area is his living space, I assume. We pass a modernized kitchen, my eyes scanning for any visible knives. No luck. My eyes scan the rooms we pass. A living room with a long coffee table, a soft looking couch, and records and books lining a bookshelf. A locked room. A bathroom. He brings us to a bedroom fit for the king himself, shutting the door behind us. He gently sits me on the bed and squats in front of me. 

"I'm going to leave you handcuffed for a few more minutes. I'll draw you a bath and bring you some beautiful, new clothing. You will feel like nothing less than a queen here, my love," he breathes, standing and smoothing out his slacks. He leaves the room, closing and locking the door from the outside. Who even has a bedroom door that locks from the outside? My breathing quickens as the test comes closer. I close my eyes, trying to block out my fears. I hear another door close, and my eyes snap open. Darting my eyes across the room, I find a small window. Rushing over to it, I inspect it. How do I open this? Turning slightly, I use my left hand to try to shimmy it open. It doesn't budge. Turning around completely, I use both hands, willing the window open. Rust encases the outside of the window, making it nearly impossible, but a slight creak lets me know it can be opened. Footsteps near the door, and I quietly and quickly make my way back to where I was when he left me. 

The lock clicks and he opens the door, bearing 'gifts'. A silken set of bedtime lingerie greet me, him possessing a wicked smile. "These are pajamas I've given you before, though you wouldn't remember. I, however, recall you thoroughly enjoying them."

I hold back a look of disgust and give him a fake smile. "I love them," I force. Grabbing them from him, he steps back, waiting. 

"Connor, I can't do anything with handcuffs on." A look of embarrassment crosses his face, as if he forgot. 

He quickly pulls the set of keys out of his pocket, picking the smallest one and placing it into the hole on the cuffs. They fall off of my wrists and I look towards the hallway. "Can I bathe now? I feel too dirty for you to touch me," I manage with a grin. He returns a smile and lightly grabs my elbow, leading me to the bathroom. His grip is soft, but he squeezes just once to let me know that he's prepared for me to dash. He isn't stupid. My lip quivers as he closes the bathroom door behind us, reaching into the tub to turn it on. Water splashes through the faucet, filling it ever so slowly while I mull over how to escape. I replace my face with mild content when he turns to me and says, "Should be warm enough for you." He opens a cabinet under the sink and pulls out essential oils, body wash and shampoo, all of the scents being that of lavender. A towel lays over the rack next to the tub, and the rug in front of it feels too soft for my calloused feet.