Liana

 

 

 

I don’t even know what I’m trying to do. It’s like a switch has been turned on inside my head, leaving all control to my legs as they carry me to the room I’ve been so desperate to get out of. For all I know, it won’t even be accessible. Every door around me has been locked for the past three weeks.

But this one is not. I’m relieved and surprised when the door actually swings open when I throw myself against it with a little too much force. I stumble into the room, taking a moment to regain my balance, before I manage to close the door behind me.

It can’t be locked or unlocked from the inside, I remember that much from my very first night here. I let the door shut and immediately fling myself against the shabby wood, using my own body weight to keep him from entering.

My heart is racing as wild thoughts bounce back and forth inside my skull.

What the hell am I doing? I’m completely naked, my hair is still wet from the shower, blood and tears are drying on my cheeks, and all I wish for is to be locked away in this hellhole?

The room is just as empty and cold as it was three weeks ago. It’s unwelcoming to begin with, but an even more terrible place to be in, in my state.

My skin is covered in goosebumps within seconds, and my bare feet hurt against the rough wooden floor. Outside, I can hear his hurried steps approaching.

I yelp when he bangs against the door from the outside, shaking my entire body with his savagery.

“Get out!” he screams from the other side of the door.

“No!” I yell back at him. “You’re breaking the rules. I deserve to be punished.”

I was hoping that he’d jump on board if I retreated to the contract he apparently laid out with the woman who was supposed to be here in my place.

But it appears he’s no longer interested in playing that game.

“You get out of there right now,” he repeats. “Or I’ll drag you out myself. You know I can.”

He bangs against the door again, causing it to open for just a moment before I manage to push it back. My feet slip across the cold wood, and a splinter gets jammed into one of my soles causing agonizing pain.

Another bang against the door almost causes me to fall, and this time it’s my back that slides along the harsh wood of the door.

“You’re going to hurt me if you break in the door,” I warn him. “I thought you promised never to hurt me!”

“Step away!” he yells, sounding beside himself. “You’re acting crazy.”

Maybe I am. But it’s the only thing I know to do. I’ll spend the entire day and night like this, if it means he doesn’t send me away.

He lets go of the door, and I can hear him taking a step back.

“What do you want from me?” he asks, sounding defeated. “How much do I have to pay for you to let this go and be reasonable?”

I growl in anger.

“I’m not a prostitute!” I remind him. “You won’t pay me anything, no matter to what end. I don’t want your money.”

“What then?” he asks.

I hesitate, biting my lower lip as I stare down at my feet. My toes are beginning to hurt because of the damp cold in this room. I take a deep breath, collecting my strength to go through with this.

I can do this. I can.

My gaze wanders around the small room, the room I wanted to so desperately escape when he first locked me up in here. All of that seems so far away. I can’t believe it’s only been three weeks since then. It feels like another life, another person who did this to me, another person who all of this happened to. Both of us have changed, and it’s thanks to being with each other, to finding one another.

“You know I’ve fantasized about something like this for the longest time,” I say, raising my volume just loud enough for him to hear me on the other side of the door. “In the darkest corner of my mind, I’ve fantasized about being kidnapped, locked away, tied up and forced to please a handsome man like you.”

I close my eyes. Even when there’s no one looking at me, it still fills me with shame to admit all these things, to give voice to my darkest fantasies. The same fantasies that caused Luke to be disgusted with me. The memory pains me, but I may need to face it aloud so he’ll listen to me.

“You know, my ex-boyfriend, he always said that I was broken because of the way my father treated me and my mother,” I say. “He insinuated that I like to be punished because I was hit as a child. But I don’t want to believe that, and I don’t think it’s true.”

I pause, listening for him outside the door, to see if he’ll interrupt and silence me again. But all I hear is the steady sound of his breath as he waits for me to continue.

“My father was an asshole,” I go one. “I’d never want a man to treat me the way he treated my mother and me. No. I want this. I want you. I want what you’re able to give me.”

I hesitate again, trying to hold back the tears as they threaten to choke me up again.

“If you send me away now, I feel like I will lose you forever,” I proceed. “And I’d rather rot in here for days than to never see you again.”

I can’t help but to start sobbing again, another rush of tears running down my face.

Outside, I can hear him moving, but he’s not banging against the door this time. He’s not hammering against the wood or yelling for me to come out and leave.

“Let me in,” he says instead, his voice soft and defeated.