Chapter Twenty-Six
Chloe sat in the dark, only a triangle of light seeping from the bathroom. She spent most of the afternoon lying on the mattress, adapting to the hunger pains and massaging her sore body.
Sometimes she sat by the door, listening for sounds within the house. Doors opened and closed, water ran through the pipes, but there wasn’t even a whisper of Dayton or Mattie’s voices.
After his visit that morning he hadn’t returned. She feared he’d leave her there for days, but also feared his return.
Paranoia struck and she wondered if her children were even there. Maybe he’d lied and they were back in Pennsylvania worrying about where their mother had gone, fearing she abandoned them.
She tried to remember the day before, but it felt like years ago. Jennifer would’ve canceled all of her appointments at some time today—was it still today? Yes, today. And what about Trenton?
What if Marcus was texting her friends from her phone, pretending to be her? She had no idea where her purse had gone.
She stiffened as a key turned in the knob, the scrape of metal abrading her frayed nerves and sending her scurrying back to the nearest wall. She wanted to stand so she wasn’t in such a vulnerable position, but she lacked the strength and time. Marcus stepped into the room and her body tensed painfully with fear.
He shut the door with his foot and locked it with a key before slipping it back into his pocket. She needed that key.
He carried a bowl to the center of the floor and produced a sleeve of crackers from his back pocket, dropping them next to the bowl. “Eat.”
He returned to the door, casually leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for her to move. Fearful it was a trick, she hugged the perimeter of the room until she was close enough to snatch the crackers, her hunger beating at her.
The buttery saltiness crumbled on her tongue and tasted like heaven. Her throat swallowed repetitively as she watched him.
“Don’t you want the soup?”
She dragged the bowl closer. It was cold and there wasn’t a spoon. She brought it to her mouth and sipped the broth, trying her best to avoid the slimy noodles and cold chicken bits.
He enjoyed humiliating her and probably loved the idea of making her drink her supper like a dog on the floor. She ignored her stomach's revulsion, hoping any form of sustenance would build back her strength.
Within minutes, her belly was uncomfortably full and cramping. She twisted the crackers closed and placed them behind her, afraid he’d take what she didn’t finish.
“I suppose you’ve had time to think.”
She studied him, never sure of his intentions.
“The boys are beginning to ask about you.”
She needed proof they were here. “Can I see them?”
“I could easily tell them you abandoned them.”
Her teeth locked, but she remained silent. She’d never abandon her children and he knew that.
“Or I could tell them their mother is a criminal who needs to be punished for her crimes.”
Anger festered and bloomed like pus inside of her. She wasn’t a kidnapper. They were her children and she’d protected them. He’d made her life unbearable and she had no choice but to run. But Marcus had plenty of powerful friends who might see it differently. She wasn’t sure what the laws were, so she couldn’t call his bluff.
“I want to see them.”
“The other option… We can show them we’ve reconciled. Which do you think would be the least detrimental for them?”
Reconciling was out of the question, and a life with Marcus was never the best option, yet, he gave her little choice. If she could fool him, convince him she was sorry and willing to make this work, he might let her out of this room. But first, she needed proof.
“Are the boys even here, Marcus? I haven’t seen or heard them since we arrived.” Her voice was nothing more than a dry rasp. Her lips hurt at the corners and she’d had a steady throb in her skull since he’d shown up in her life.
“Oh, they’re here.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because what other options do you have?” He laughed, taunting her.
“I want to see my sons.”
“Then we need to reconcile our differences. Show me you’re sorry and I’ll let you see them. But you better be convincing, Chloe. If you intend to convince them, you first have to convince me.”
“I’ll do anything, just let me see that they’re all right and—”
“Anything’s an awfully big word.”
The contents of her stomach clotted. Marcus had a way of making everything a negotiation without ever compromising. She understood what he was after. She’d done it before and if it got her out of this room she could do it again. She had no room to second-guess her objectives. Marcus meant nothing. He was a disgusting, rotting soul blocking her escape. She’d get through him by any means necessary. Any.
Looking up at him, she repeated, “I’ll do anything. Just let me see Dayton and Mattie.”
“Very well.” He pressed off of the wall and her stomach lurched. His hands folded behind his back and he stared at her expectantly. “Well?”
She frowned, confused. “I don’t know what you want.”
“Of course you do. I want you to show me how sorry you are.”
A jagged breath filled her lungs as her heart hammered in her chest. Rage and disgust became an ugliness inside of her not easily disguised. “If you want something, Marcus, just take it. My objections never stopped you before.”
His calm terrified her more than his anger. His laugh held the merriment of a deranged sadist.
“Dear, sweet, Chloe. I’m not going to rape my wife. What kind of man would that make me? Irreconcilable differences it is then. I’ll make some calls and you should find yourself in a new cell by morning. Pity. The boys will be devastated when I tell them my version.” He turned to the door.
“Wait!” Her panic doubled. What if he wasn’t bluffing? What if he did the research and honestly believed she could go to prison for her crimes?
The glint of the key flashed in his fingers. “I can tell you’re thinking hard with that tiny brain of yours. The penalty for parental kidnapping in the state of Virginia is a class six felony punishable by up to ten years in a state penitentiary.”
Her chin quivered as a sharp pain cinched around her heart. “I didn’t…” Her eyes blinked as her vision blurred.
“But you did, Chloe. You stole my children. You stole my aunt’s identity. You falsified documents and lied for over half a decade. I would have to do very little to see you punished for your crimes.”
Her head was fuzzy and she couldn’t think. He wouldn’t hesitate to tell the boys she’d abandoned them. He’d twist the truth. If she was prosecuted, even withheld for a short period of time, she’d be unable to keep him away from them, unable to keep him from spewing his lies. The smallest thing might set him off and if she wasn’t here for him to target, he’d find someone else. She couldn’t let that happen.
Yet, if she could get to the police, even if it meant being taken into custody, she might be able to explain the situation, possibly have Dayton and Mattie moved somewhere safe until the details were worked out and—
He sighed. “This is where Mattie gets his indecisiveness from. I intend to start getting on him about that tomorrow. You know how impatient I can be.”
She thought of her little baby, her sweet, vulnerable Matthew. Dayton was a fighter, but the moment he challenged Marcus he’d see first-hand why her only choice was to run. “No. If you let me talk to them they’ll be better.”
“I told you, the only way that can happen is if you convince me you’re sorry.”
She wanted to scream and lunge at him. Get me the fuck out of this place!
She was losing her mind and it had only been one since she arrived. There was no getting out of this room without giving him exactly what he wanted. Her mind rapidly compartmentalized, as if hiding away all thoughts of her normal life could abate the humiliation of the inevitable.
She swallowed, fighting the urge to scream. “I’m sorry.”
A reptilian smile crawled over his face to match his immoral eyes. “Show me.”
The key returned to his pocket. And her eyes closed. The clink of his belt buckle brought an unsteady shiver. Warm leather traced down her cheek and she grit her teeth.
“You remember this.” He pressed the leather of the belt under her chin and her eyes opened. “Clothes off.”
Her mind twitched as she grudgingly forced her will to surrender. It would be painful, humiliating, and, once again, leave scars where no one else could see. And like every other time, he’d given her options, but little choice.
She mechanically pulled off her clothes, keeping her gaze on the floor.
“You’re still fat.”
His criticism of her body was the least of her pain. She moved to the mattress, recalling all too well the way he wanted her, the way he preferred to use his belt. A tear rolled down her cheek as she silently lowered to her stomach. No matter how much that leather would cut into her skin and leave welts for days, it was the unwanted surrender of her will, the hatred he created for him and for herself that caused her to tremble.
She knew, without a doubt, by the time he dropped that belt he’d be aroused and fueled by the marks as much as he’d be excited by her cries. And that would be when the true punishment came, when he’d expect her to prove how sorry she was.