Closer - A Connections Sequel [Ongoing]

Thirty four

Valerie P.O.V.

I was going out of my mind in here. It must be sometime around the afternoon because I hadn't yet been brought dinner and a few hours have passed since my "brunch."

I sighed, pacing the room. I felt so weak and pathetic. What I'd give in this very moment to become a super agent, kick down the door, and kick his ass before escaping. If only.

But I'm not any of those things. I was a regular person and not the hero in this scenario. Yet, I didn't want to be the damsel in distress either. I wanted to do everything I could in my power to help myself. So that left me in the in between. I might just be a regular person, but I'll be damned if I let that hold me back. I wracked my brain for more ideas. How far could I go to free myself? How far am I willing to go?

Could I try to fake my love for him? Seduce him and then attack? I shuddered at the dark thoughts. I glanced down at my empty hand, and directly to the space where my ring should have been. I'd taken it off when I went to paint, and hadn't put it back on yet as I was going to shower then cook.

My hand felt cold without it. Naked. Light. And none of that was right. I had to get back to Carter. We still had our whole lives ahead of us. I wanted to walk down the aisle and see him at the end. But I would have to find another way to get out rather than selling my body. I think that it'd do me more harm than good.

It was now evening I think- it seemed that way as the light that filtered through the door and into the basement when he entered wasn't as bright, and seemed more artificial. I'm guessing several hours had now passed since brunch. I spent the time dreaming up attack plans. Nothing I had was solid and fool-proof though.

I couldn't attack a grown ass man with a fucking pencil. Unless I stabbed it directly in his eye. What are the chances I have perfect aim? What are the chances I'm too slow and he blocks me? I couldn't risk it. I just had to sit tight and find other methods. Maybe if too many days passed and I grew desperate, I'd take a chance. But for now, I waited, biding my time and keeping him as happy as possible with no violent outbursts. I continued playing along, maintaining the pleasant mood and avoiding the anger. Which meant, drawing in my sketch book as he ordered. He seemed to think that's all I needed to keep me occupied here. I was at it for an hour before quitting to daydream escape scenarios instead. Only time could tell how long that would last however, until he demanded more. Until then, I'd have to save my pencil through the eye stabbing plan for later.

Alongside that big risk, every time I thought about trying to escape- I got flashbacks of the sheer terror and the feeling of his grip on me as he overpowered me. I felt the sensation of losing consciousness, unable to fight my body from going limp. It was terrifying.

He set the dinner plate down before me and on the plate was tacos. My stomach growled at the sight of it. I hadn't eaten much since being here. It made me feel too sick to. But I tried, taking small bites to appease him.

"You like this too, don't you?" He questioned and I nodded.

"I do."

"You're so perfect. I like these too!" He murmured, coming over to cup my chin. I shuddered, the calloused fingers scraping against my skin. He was too damn close and his touch made my skin ripple with disgust.

And then one of my worse nightmares happened, he brought his lips down on my cheek. I squeezed my eyes shut, wincing at the rejection my body felt. It's like the longer I'm here, the more brazen he became with his intimate actions. I feel like I am running out of time.

"Be a good girl and eat now. I'll be back."

Shaking, I rubbed my cheek, trying to erase any evidence of him touching me there. I was lucky I had a decent stomach, I wasn't one to hurl easily. But this, this sickened me. I bit into the taco and swallowed through tears, trying to keep the bile down. He literally was obsessed with making sure I ate his food he made for me. Everything about this was just so bizarre, and I'm so mentally exhausted from fighting to keep calm. How many more days can I handle before I crack?