Locke

Present day

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I sat on the bed with my head in my hands. He had locked me inside, he trapped me like a caged fucking animal and I had no idea why.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

This wasn't how any of this was supposed to go.

He was nice, he was caring and funny, handsome and sweet.

It was all pretend.

Cole had tricked me into thinking he was something he's not. He's not any of those things. He's an evil bastard for swooning me, playing me, and then cutting off the outside world.

What if it's him? What if he's the one who hurt those other girls?

I sat in shock. Fear hadn't kicked in, anger hadn't pushed through. There was just a dull sensation that kept me anchored to the bed, unable to grasp what the hell was going on.

Grunting loudly, I squeezed my temples as my lids slammed shut and my head began to twirl.

Fuck! What the hell is going on? What do I do?

Throwing my head back, I dropped to the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. I wanted to scream and cry and kick and punch the walls, but I couldn't. There was nothing inside me, everything that had woken up when Cole walked into my world instantly vanished the second he shut that door.

There was no softening the blow that had come in and struck me dead center in the gut. He had turned from lover to enemy in a blink of an eye.

All I was left with was the feeling of falling. I was falling and falling and there was no bottom below me, nothing to catch me when I finally landed.

I waited for the ground to emerge and swallow me deep into its belly. Hell had claimed me, my life was no longer mine, the devil had reincarnated again, taking from me for a third time.

I need to get out of here. I won't let this happen.

I won't be a victim again.

Sitting up in one quick jerk, I searched the room around me. I wasn't in a fortress, I wasn't locked behind bars and cement. I was in a house, in a room. A place that was made up of drywall and beams, wood and nails. Constructed of man-made materials that could as easily break apart as they went together.

I could get out, I just had to find the way.

Curling my toes into the cold wood, I grabbed my pants off the floor and started searching the pockets. I remembered I had my phone on me; it was still here, somewhere.

Slamming my hand into the back pockets, they were empty. Stuffing them into the front pockets, I felt a small wad of paper and slipped it free.

My fingers shook as I peeled back the corners and opened it up. It was his note, it was the one that had made my heart skip and my veins heat. The small white paper was crinkled and covered in creases, trembling against my skin as it burned me like a thousand bonfires.

Sucking in wild bursts of air, my chest rose and fell hard and fast. I wanted it gone, I wanted to destroy what I had thought was good. Tearing the paper into tiny pieces, I let them fall to the floor like dirt.

Fuck you!

Twisting my head around, I spotted my small clutch on the chair beside the door. Jumping to my feet, I stormed over and picked it up. Unzipping it in one quick whoosh, I dumped the contents onto the floor and started sifting through them.

Where the hell is my phone?

I had it on me. . .

That was the key word—had. It wasn't there, along with a couple other things.

Pushing myself up, I paced around, fumbling with my bottom lip. My phone was missing, the keys to my apartment were gone, my wallet had been stripped of my I.D and the pictures I kept inside of my sister and mother.

How could he do this?

Why would he do this?

With each step I grew more and more frustrated. He had not only stowed me away inside his house like I was a possession he could keep; but he had stolen from me too. He stole my freedom, he stole my past memories of people I loved, he stole everything all over again.

Who the fuck is this guy?

What the hell is wrong with him?

No! No! I want them back!

Turning towards the door, every feeling that had been shadowed by shock and confusion roared to life. I had gone from zero to a hundred in less than a second. Running at the door, I started pounding it with my hands.

“Let me out!” My fists were clenched tight, nails biting into the skin. “Where's my stuff you fucking asshole?!”

Pound after pound, I punched and hit the wood. I didn't feel pain or soreness, I didn't feel the tiny splinters that were embedding themselves into my skin. All I felt was rage.

There were no more thoughts of escaping or breaking windows and doors as a passage back into the outside world. All I could focus on was what he took, what he had stolen that wasn't his to take.

“I want my pictures! Give me back my pictures!”

Tears started to well up, blurring my vision as they teetered on the edge of my lids before splashing onto my cheeks and rolling off my chin.

“Give them back!” Sobbing, I dragged my hands down the door and dropped to the floor like every bone in my body had been removed. “Please, tell me why you're doing this.” The words faded in volume as no answers were delivered and no voice met my demands.

Tucking my knees up into my chest, I pressed my back against the door and wept.

After everything I had already been through, after all the sadness and loss my life had suffered, I didn't know how I was going to make it through this.

Why does the world hate me so much?

Why did the powers from above want to burn the last bit of life I had left?

Why?

Laying my forehead onto my knees, I cried more than I had in ten years. I cried for my sister, I cried for my mother, and I cried for the little girl who had lost it all.

* * * * *

“Get up,” he barked, shaking my shoulder forcefully.

Lifting my head up, my cheek peeled off the hardwood floor with a crackle. I must have fallen into a deep sleep, I didn't feel him push me out of the way as he opened the door.

“Come on, get on the bed.” Grabbing my arm, Cole lifted me to my feet and dragged me across the room.

“I know who you are.”

Stopping short, he jerked his head over his shoulder. “You do?”

“You're the man who killed those other girls.” My lip trembled, chattering my teeth as I spoke. “And now you're going to try and kill me—but I won't let you.”

Shaking his head no, he started forward again. “You're wrong. I'm not that sick fuck.”

“Fuck you, I'm not stupid. I saw the news, I heard about you.” Glaring at him under hooded lids, I bared my teeth.

“I'm not him.”

“No? Then why else would you be doing this?” I asked, stumbling forward as he dragged me towards the bed.

“Because I have to, that's why.”

“You don't have to, there are so many other things you could be doing right now—”

Cutting me off, he shoved my body forward. “But I want to do this, I need to do this.”

Falling onto my side, the mattress squeaked under my weight. Pushing myself up, I glared at him. “No you don't, you don't need to do any of this.”

A thin smile spread over his face as his eyes darkened. “Yes I do, I don't have a choice.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I can't explain it to you, you wouldn't understand.” Shaking his head, he stalked over to a small table and started sifting around inside. “Maybe I'm saving you. Not that it matters anyway, you're here, so get used to it.”

“Saving me?” Squaring my shoulders, I sat as tall as I could. “This is your idea of saving me?” My fingers clenched the mattress, nails digging in hard. “You're fucking sick, that's what you are.”

“Am I?” Snapping his head over his shoulder, his brows furrowed. “I'd say you don't know what sick is, but you and I both know that's not true.”

My heart froze inside my chest as fear swept over my body. His tone was laced in threat as his muscles tensed and small beads of sweat built up across his forehead.

How much does he know about me?

How could he know anything?

He knows your name, that's enough.

I wanted to ask him, I really did. But that didn't matter right then, all that mattered was what his plan was, what he was thinking inside his head. What he knew, what he might have read in a fucking newspaper meant nothing.

“What are you going to do with me?”

His lids hooded, shading sultry, dark eyes. Biting his bottom lip, he grinned. “What do you want me to do with you?” Firm legs stepped forward, barely making a sound. It was as if he knew where every creek and snap in the wood was, purposely avoiding making any noise.

He stalked closer, our toes touching as his shadow pressed down, smothering my face in silent pleasure.  My body remembered his hands, his tongue, his tender lips and firm muscles. A single tremor worked my sex as recent memories of his body against mine—inside mine—cracked the thin layer of ice and teased me from under the surface.

His breathing picked up, hands reaching out to cup my chin. My body shivered at the subtle contact. I wanted to be disgusted having him right there, I wanted to wish him to disappear and pray for freedom.

But that's not what I felt. The way he touched me had been delirious and imprinted my soul.

No! He's a creature, he's not the man he portrayed.

Glancing between him and the door, my brain turned up, picking out weak links and plausible exits.

Charge him, break free and run as fast as you can.

Kick him in the balls and try to get the key from him to trap him inside, turn the tables.

I can do this. . . I have to do this.

Holding the mattress in my hands, I pushed my heels into the floor, ready to bolt. “I don't want you to do anything to me.” Swallowing the lump in my throat, my head tilted up to look Cole in the eyes.

This wasn't going to happen, I wasn't going to be abducted and held captive by some disturbed asshole. He might know about my past, but he couldn't know everything.

Did he know that behind the wall I protected myself with was a bold and determined woman?

Did he know that I wasn't weak? That my past had built a strength that no one could see?

No.

He knew nothing about the real me, the true version of myself I kept hidden away. For the solitude I held tightly in my hands, I held my life tighter.

I didn't hide just to protect myself, I hid to protect others.

Because what happened to me wouldn't happen again. I'd fight this time, I wouldn't cower and climb inside myself just so I didn't have to feel it.

No. I would kill him if I had to. I was ready, I was willing, and no amount of strength that he might have could match mine.

I was determined to come out on top, to be the victor. Cole would lose.

His bear-sized hand trailed down my cheek, pinching my chin and holding it in place. “That's not what you were saying before. If I remember right, you begged me to fuck you.”

Disgust and anger shaded my eyes as my teeth sawed over each other. “That was before I knew you were a fucking psycho.”

Pinching my chin tight between his fingers, Cole leaned down, bringing his face to mine. “Is that what you think?” His nails bit into my skin, piercing the surface. “Do you know who I am? Do you remember me?”

Flicking my eyes between his, I tried to rack my memory for his face. But there was nothing. “No.”

“Think about it, think hard.” Our eyes stayed locked, never breaking away. Still there was nothing. Shaking my head no, he threw my head to the side and took a step back. “I'm not surprised really, I wouldn't be shocked if you blocked most of it out altogether.”

My hair had whipped across my face, sticking to the nervous sweat that had slicked the surface. Wiping the strands off my cheeks, I arched a brow. “What the hell are you talking about?”

I wanted to know what he meant, I wanted to know where our lives had crossed paths.

“It doesn't matter right now, all that matters is that you're here, and you're safe.”

“You keep throwing out the word safe, but I don't think you really understand what safe means.”

Cole turned to face the wall beside me, his eyes engorged and devouring the painting hanging in the center. The canvas was filled with bright flowers all stuffed into a vase that was far too small to house the bunch. The vase was leaning to one side, small droplets of water were leaking from the mouth and pooling at the base.

“My mother painted this picture when I was a kid.” Pointing, he took another step closer and brushed his fingertips over the surface. “You know what she said when she painted it?”

Shaking my head, I kept one eye on him and the other on the door.

“She said the world is filled with beauty, but it's not capable of holding it up.” His hand followed the vase up, the pads of his fingers swept lightly over the petals. “She said that no matter what, the world would collapse before it could actually understand the beauty it contained.”

“What does that mean?” I wanted him to keep talking, to stay mesmerized in his memory and forget that he was keeping me there.

If he was lost in thought, then maybe his focus would be off me. Maybe if he was so caught up in whatever was running through his head, it would give me the chance to escape.

Closing his eyes, he twisted to look at me with a crooked smile. “It means you're here because the world wants you gone, it means that I'm the vase holding you up.”

“Why?”

“Because that's what I'm supposed to do, I can see that now.”

Taking in a few slow breaths, I watched Cole as he stayed still, his hands hanging flat by his sides. Shifting his head on his shoulders, he turned back to the painting.

Now! Go now!

Jumping to my feet, I ran at the door. I didn't look back at him, I didn't waste time trying to figure out how far from me he was.

Grabbing the handle, I threw the door open and just kept running. My feet hit the ground hard and fast, my legs throbbed and exploded with speed I had never known was there.

Everything around me was a blur. I focused on one thing and one thing only—the front door. If he was chasing me, I couldn't hear him, if he was screaming and yelling, his words fell on deaf ears.

All I could hear was the heavy drumming of my heartbeat as it pounded inside my chest like a jackhammer.

The door came into view as I cleared the hallway. Stretching my arms out, it was right there. My fingers tingled with need and demand to touch the silver orb and feel it against my palm.

Run! Run!

It's right there!

A few more steps and I was out, gone, breaching the night and embracing it. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. His chest crashed into my back, forcing me to the ground. The weight of him on top of me made my lungs struggle for air.

“I don't think so,” he said through thick breaths. “Do you want to die? Is that what you want?” Yanking my arms behind my back, he hoisted me off the floor in one quick jerk.

“Let me go!” Screaming as loudly as I could, I hoped and prayed that someone outside could hear me. “Help! Someone help!”

His mouth pushed against my ear, filling my head with hot air and smothering words. “No one's going to hear you, not from in here.”

The light of a passing car reflected off the glass, basking my face in a white halo, only to wash me in black shadows. No one was coming to help me.

Hanging my head, my body went limp. “What are you going to do to me?”

“I don't have all the answers yet, but I will soon.” Wrapping his hands around my wrists, he turned me on my heels and started pushing me back towards the room.

Letting my eyes drift to the floor, I sniffled. “And when you do? What then?”

Slamming the door behind us, Cole shoved me forward. “We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Taking a bundle of rope out of the drawer he had been searching earlier, he walked up beside me. “For now, I'm making sure you stay here.” Holding the rope between his fingers, he stroked the braided material.

My stomach twisted and coiled, forcing me to gag. “I'm going to throw up.” Pressing a hand to my lips, I tried to swallow it down.

“There's a bucket right there.” Nodding towards the head of the bed, he wrapped a hand over my shoulder. “But you're not going anywhere, so get used to it.”

What the fuck is he doing?

“Why me?”

Shrugging a shoulder, he guided me to the bed and pressed me down. “I'm not sure yet why it was you.” Grabbing my leg, he lifted it up and started to wrap my ankle in the rope.

“You're not sure?” A cynical laugh rolled off my tongue. I was a mess of emotions. I was angry, scared, sad. I was everything all balled up into one massive mess of fucked up. I had no idea how to filter them and pick them apart one by one. They came and did what they wanted. “You're going to tell me you have no fucking clue why it's me? Do you really think I'd be so stupid to think that you didn't pick me for some sick reason?”

“I didn't pick you,” he said as his lip curved down. “But someone did, I can tell you that.”

“What do you mean you didn't choose me? That doesn't make sense. If not you, then who?”

Cole closed his lips tight, eyes flicking up to mine. He didn't answer. But his gaze softened, it turned from crisp and hard into a gentle ache he couldn't put into words.

Checking the rope, he made sure it was tight. “I'll be back later.” Starting towards the door, he stopped short, keeping his back to me. “This will all fall into place, Locke, it really will.”

As he opened the door, I threw my hand out. “Wait,” I said, watching the muscle in his neck thicken. “You called me Hanna. No one's called me that in years. Tell me what you know.”

His back expanded as he took in a deep breath. “I know our lives aren't that different.”

And with that he was gone. The door closed tight, the lock snapped back into place, and I was left with no more answers than I came in with.