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CHAPTER 14 - ANNA
When I woke up Marcus was gone. We never seemed to talk after the sex. I had music on lightly and I was trying to clean the wood stove, getting full of ash, and trying to clean through the conflicting feelings inside me. I was beginning to like it here, the days, and especially the nights.
But I wasn’t here by choice. I was trapped. That was my problem. I always needed freedom, I was claustrophobic trapped in this cabin, trapped in this life. I needed the choice at least to stay or go.
I tried to put it all out of my mind, then he came up behind me. Put his arms around my waist and his lips on my neck and it felt so amazing, so safe. And I hated it all the more.
I shrugged him off and, turned to him, “Get your hands off me,”
He fell back, surprised, but then smiled and came closer again, wrapping his arms around me and speaking into my ear, “You belong to me, I know you like fighting me off, but it's becoming a little boring isn't it? Why not admit to yourself you want me, your body does, doesn’t it?” He ran a finger down my stomach, and sent a shiver down my spine.
“I hate you,” I told him, not sure if I meant it anymore.
“It would be easier if you liked me, but you don't like easy do you?”
“If you cared for me, you wouldn't keep me prisoner here, if you loved me you wouldn’t do this.”
“You're here because it's best for you and because I want you here, and you please me. That's all, there'll be no more talk of love and all of those things.”
“What happens when I no longer please you?” I asked, turning my back on him.
“I don't think we'll have to worry about that for a while yet, sweet.”
“You can take any woman, there are plenty I'm sure that would come willing to you, why me and why like this?'
His eyes narrowed and darkened as he stared at me, turning me to him and holding me against him, “Because no one else has pleased me as much as you. You’re the only one I want right now.”
“It’s not fair for you to have all the power. It should be up to me to go or stay.”
“And if it was, what would you choose?”
“I don’t know.” I told him, honestly.
“That’s why I won’t let you decide.”
“I have bills, responsibilities, a life.”
“All taken care of.”
“A boyfriend.”
“Do you really? How many times have you thought of him since you’ve been here?”
“Still.”
“Also taken care of, he’s been informed you’re safe and sound. And hasn’t put up much of a fight I take it. You’re free to send a note if you want.”
“I feel trapped, claustrophobic here, in a one-room cabin.”
“Want to go out on the lake?” he asked.
He tried to show me how to start the boat and drive it, but it was so old and it wasn't turn key, push gas, go so I was out of my element. It was pull cord, choke engine, adjust throttle, and maybe more. But it was a beautiful day, sunny, warm breeze, and an excuse to wear a bikini and soak up the sun and watch him in his bathing suit.
The boat was old, but more 'classic' than run down with age. It seemed like a heavy boat, made of dark mahogany, and didn't get tossed around by the waves at all, “Why the old boat?” I asked, surely they could have new one, easier to handle.
“It's one we had since I was young, the classics never go out of style.”
We rode out far from the shore, but it was still just barely visible on the horizon. The other side of the lake, the other shore couldn't be seen, it was a wide expanse of crystal blue water, the sun hit it and it shimmered like ice.
The fishing poles were in the water and we caught fish almost immediately. “I catch, you clean, I cook, how about that?”
“I don't know how.”
“It's real easy, you stick the knife in here, slice like this, and wash out the insides like this, he showed me with the long thin knife, that sliced with ease.
“I'm not really dressed for cleaning fish.”
“You could take it off, no one out here but us and I've already seen what you have.”
“And you gave me these marks.” I answered, without looking at him, they didn't hurt, but they were awful purple marks on my ass.
“You came to enjoy it though. Pain before pleasure, you know.”
“It seems all you are is pain.” I was frustrated the way this was going, never a simple day between us. I took it out on the fish, becoming good at gutting them, only because I imagined his face on their bodies, I cut quick through the underside, disemboweling them, the sliced off their heads. He watched me work, I hoped it made him uneasy.
“It would be easier for you if you admitted you wanted me, that you like how I treat you, that you wouldn't want it any other way.” He came closer, “Admit you like my touch,” he was behind me now, his finger traced a path down my back and sides, down to my ass, near the marks he had placed, I felt he was about to kiss me from behind, and I could barely stand it, barely stand not wanting to fight him off again. “Admit it in the sun, just like you did in the dark.”
I turned around to yell something at him, I wasn't quite sure what yet, and there he was, right behind me. I was ready to meet those insolent eyes, but they were pain and confusion, he gasped and breathed in and held his stomach. I realized I still had the knife in my hand, and I had cut him deeply in the stomach, blood poured from his gut and pooled on the deck of the boat, he sat back to catch his breath and I rushed towards him, “Oh my god, Marcus, what happened?”
He reached out and grabbed my hand, “The knife,” he said.
I still held it tightly, but released it to him when I realized he was trying to shake it out of my hand before I did any more damage.
“Oh Marcus,” I cried, “Please, start the boat, tell me how to get you back and get some help,”
He smiled a groggy smile that was infuriating, “Admit you like my touch,” he said.
“Not now, Christ, you're bleeding to death in the middle of a lake and I can't help you.”
“Admit.” He spoke again, the insolence in his eyes, his voice weak, but his eyes intense on me.
“Fine, I admit it, now start the boat,” I pleaded with him, and he relented, he moved over to the engine, and pressed an electric start button, all the pulling and cranking before just another game for him.
“Keep the needle on 270,” he said, pointing to the compass above the steering wheel. I drove in, holding pressure on his stomach and the boat filling with blood, “Please don’t die,” I told him as I held him. His eyes closed and he seemed to sleep, or worse, “Please,” I begged him.