Chapter Eight
The credits rolled for the end of the show Marlee loved. Streaming. Netflix. It was nothing like the tiny boxy television she’d watched for years in the basement. It got only local channels and they were grainy. Ratchet’s TV was crisp and so bright it almost hurt her eyes. She’d think it was some special television only rich people could afford. But looking around his room told her he wasn’t wealthy.
Everything was simple. Clean, but well used. From the rug to the chipped dresser to the plain cotton bedsheets.
Which meant this was just a normal television and the thing she’d been watching for years was probably old as dirt.
She searched the darkness for Ratchet. After she’d eaten what she could, he shut off everything, leaving only the TV for light. Now she found him asleep in the chair he’d pulled over. It was between the bed and the wall. Too close to the door for her to escape.
But something else kept her inside the room now.
The fear of what waited for her beyond the door.
Leah said there was danger. Something worse than her son, who… didn’t seem all that dangerous. Sure, Marlee could feel the restraint he operated under. She could feel that he was dangerous. Had maybe even done bad things. He just didn’t seem dangerous for her.
He let her watch whatever she wanted. Fed her. Gave her clothes. Didn’t ask to use her body. And kept her a secret from the ones she’d seen in the lounge. From his leader, who was apparently Satan incarnate from the way they talked.
But he doesn’t know who you belong to.
Everything would change when Ratchet found out. It would have to. He’d give her up. Unless Leah could get her out before then.
Marlee pushed down the panic that came with that thought, and focused on the sleeping man nearby.
He’d slouched in the seat so that his head could rest on the back. His blond hair was tousled, a few strands of it hanging over his closed eyes. His face was pointed in her direction. Like he’d fallen asleep watching her.
He’d taken the chair and given her his bed.
It was so unexpected. A captor giving instead of taking. It confused her inside. Made her feel safer when she should feel trapped.
The screen of the TV dimmed, preparing to shut off. It sent fresh panic to her middle.
Leaning over the edge of the bed, she carefully eased the remote out of Ratchet’s loose grip. She held her breath, only making a millimeter’s progress at a time so she wouldn’t wake him. But she was still shaking from the residual drugs in her system. Sleep would help. But she couldn’t sleep in the dark.
She nearly had the remote free when her hand accidentally brushed against his.
He growled out a snarl, his eyes snapping open. Their blue nearly glowed in the darkness as he glared at her, and his fingers wrapped around her wrist like a vice, squeezing tight. He moved like lightning, striking so fast she couldn’t have done a thing to prevent it.
“Ow!” she cried.
The remote clattered to the floor and Ratchet’s angry face went slack with awareness. His gaze shot to her arm where he held it, and with the next blink, he dropped her like she’d scalded him.
Marlee scrambled backward until her back hit the headboard.
“Sorry.” His voice whipped from his throat, rough and heavy with sleep. “I didn’t mean to touch you.”
She rubbed at her wrist. It didn’t hurt as much as it had shocked. His touch was hot enough to burn her.
“Not used to having anyone near while I sleep. I don’t…” He cleared his throat, sitting forward and running his palms roughly over his face. “I don’t rest when other people are around.”
Marlee huffed out a breath, forcing the panic down. “Why don’t you?”
He stared at her through the dimness. The light from the TV reflected off his lips that were parted with heavy breathing.
“Never a good idea to be vulnerable.”
Marlee swallowed hard. She’d lived that way too, for ten years. But before, when she was around the people she loved, she hadn’t thought like that. So why here, in his home, did Ratchet need to be so vigilant?
“Your family would hurt you?”
“Not permanently. But yes. If it got them ahead somehow.”
“What kind of family is that?”
“A fucked up one.” He stood and went to the fridge, pulling out another bottle of water and a beer. “You get enough to drink?”
Marlee nodded, still rubbing at her wrist.
“Did I hurt you?” His question was low and soft. Tentative, like he didn’t want to ask and was afraid of the answer.
“Not really.”
He passed her the water and collapsed back into his chair, expression troubled. His knees spread wide, like he was trying to get comfortable and he dug into his pocket coming out with a ring of keys. Attached was a bottle cap opener in the shape of an animal’s paw. He used it on the beer, flicking the lid into the nearby trashcan before taking a swig.
“I was just trying to get the remote.”
He raised an eyebrow that morphed into a frown. He found the controller on the floor and set it on the comforter next to her legs and raised his bottle to his lips again.
“Was just gonna restart the show. I don’t like sleeping in the dark.” Oh, she shouldn’t have told him that. What was she thinking?
Slowly, he pulled the bottle from his lips, staring at her like she’d given him her darkest secret to guard.
“You shouldn’t tell me things like that,” he said darkly. “Shouldn’t tell anyone your weaknesses.”
“I know.” She did. It had slipped out.
“It’s fine. I’ll keep it tight,” he vowed. “But around here, if you encounter anyone else, don’t show your tender spot. Understand? We… they feed off weakness.”
She nodded, feeling stupid for letting it out. She knew better. One time she’d confided in the dolls how the radio helped her feel connected to the rest of the world. The next day her captor had smashed it and told her she could have another one when she started working for it.
What a bastard.
She eyed Ratchet. Something about him had practically pulled the confession from her. Her instincts wanted to trust him when her mind warned her not to. Her instincts had never been wrong. But now, what if she was too broken and it was leading her astray?
What if she couldn’t even trust herself anymore?
“I work tomorrow,” he said, his tone going remorseful. “I’ll have to leave you for a while. You’ll stay here. You can rest. Watch your show. Whatever. But don’t leave the room. Never leave here without me.”
It was a warning, not a threat. She knew that now.
“I won’t.”
His eyes searched hers for honesty.
“The men you live with aren’t kind.”
“None of us are,” Ratchet agreed.
“Us? Why do you say us? You’ve been kind. So far.”
He shook his head, staring away at nothing. “Because it’s you. I think if it was any other female, I’d be just as bad as them.” Even though his words were strained, she could hear the regret in them, heavy and hopeless.
“What’s different about me?”
He gazed at her, his eyes flickering with some unexplained emotion.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
Ratchet leaned forward, grabbing the remote and punching the button to restart the show. As the intro music played, he walked to the bathroom, turning the light on in there and then the lamp next to the bed.
“Sleep, lamb.” The rumble of his voice sent a shiver rolling up her spine. But it didn’t scare her. It soothed her. “I’ll keep the lights on.”
Marlee settled in, pulling the covers up to her chin.
If she was in danger tonight, it just didn’t matter. Because she was clean, her belly was full, the bed was warm, and the lights were on.
Maybe she was still dreaming after all.