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Glancing around the room, I notice it’s an average bedroom. But there isn’t any furniture, which strikes me as odd. Has he been planning to bring me here and kept the room empty so I wouldn’t be able to hide or find something to help me fight him off?
My brain still feels fuzzy, and I’m struggling to shake it off when it feels like ice water has been dumped over my head. Horror dawns as I realize my clothes are different. My work shirt and jeans are gone, and I’m wearing a bright yellow sundress. I smell like lavender and chamomile, and my hair is still slightly damp. That bastard bathed and changed me while I was asleep.
My heart begins to race, and I’m overwhelmed with a sense of violation. I can’t believe that he had the audacity to do something like that while I was unconscious. Did he do anything else? Did he touch me elsewhere? I want to scream and cry out in frustration, but my throat is dryer than the Arizona desert.
I hear footsteps getting closer from outside, and with a surge of adrenaline, I start to thrash around to try and free myself from the handcuffs. It’s no use; they’re too tight for me to get out of on my own. All I can do is lie helplessly as the door opens.
My captor steps into the room, his silhouette looming darkly against the doorframe. He wears a cheap plastic mask that sits ominously over his face, featureless and expressionless like something out of a horror movie.
His muffled and hollow voice asks, “Did you sleep well?”
The calm and collected way he carries himself sends a chill up my spine. How can he be so nonchalant about holding me prisoner? I want to scream at him for what he did to me, but all that comes out of my mouth is a feeble plea for freedom. He takes slow steps toward me as if he’s savoring the moment. I’m so scared that I feel like my heart is going to explode out of my chest. He kneels down beside me and places his hand lightly on my shoulder. His fingers are icy against my skin, and it makes me shudder in disgust.
He rubs my arm before speaking again. “I bet you’re absolutely ravenous. Don’t worry, dinner will be done soon.”
Tears began streaming down my face, and I look up at him in disbelief. My words stumble out between hiccupping sobs. “Did you… Did you rape me?”
He leans away from me in disgust and stands to tower over me as if offended by the accusation. “I would never do that to you,” he spits.
I cry harder, and he says, “I’m sorry for getting angry, Alana. I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I love you.”
Through my fear and hysteria, an idea strikes me. He keeps saying he would never hurt me, and he just told me he loves me. If I try to play along with his delusion, if I act like his charm is working, maybe he’ll make a mistake and I’ll be able to run away.
I take a deep breath and calm myself down. “You love me?”
He kneels beside me and whispers into my ear, “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.”
I swallow down my revulsion at his closeness and ask, “When will I get to see your face?”
He looks away from me and takes a step back. His voice comes out unsure for the first time. “I don’t want you to see me until our date this evening. We’re having dinner and a show. Everything should be ready in the next hour. I’ll make sure you get to use the restroom before everything starts.”
My shoulders sag when I realize I still have an hour before I get to leave this room. The sooner he takes me wherever he’s taking me, the sooner I can try to run. I’m exhausted from sitting in the same spot for who knows how long.
He must notice my disappointment because he softly adds, “Try to relax. I’ll be back soon.”
With that, he presses the hard plastic of the mask against my forehead in a kiss and leaves me alone again. The hour passes painfully slowly, though I manage to stand and shuffle around. The cuffs he replaced the ropes with allow me to move more freely.
Once I’m standing and stable, I make a beeline to the window across the room. Disappointment surges through me when I see the window faces an empty field, and we’re seemingly isolated in the middle of nowhere. I can see a barn to the left of the house, and there’s a dilapidated shed on the right. The yard is well maintained as far as I can tell in the dark, but other than that, it’s empty.
Tears threaten to overtake me again at the helplessness that I feel, but I refuse to look any weaker than I have so far. For now, he seems to think there’s a chance that I’ll fall in love with him and give him a chance. I need to strengthen my resolve and fake it until I get the opportunity to get the fuck out of here.
I sit down against the wall furthest away from the door and wait for him to come back for me. My heart beats faster with every minute that passes, and I try to keep track of time by counting in my head. I manage to count to thirty-seven minutes before I hear the doorknob being unlocked.
The first thing I see is that he’s changed clothes. He’s now wearing a crisp, fitted black suit with a white dress shirt underneath. The clothes fit his tall and muscular frame well, and I can’t help but notice that they don’t look cheap. The black tie he wears complements his dark brown hair that’s slicked back meticulously. His white mask is still in place, and the lack of facial expression is terrifying.
“Are you ready, my love?” he asks as he walks toward me with his hand out.
Steeling myself, I answer, “Where are we going?”
He helps me stand, and I have to work hard not to recoil from his touch, “We’re not leaving. I have everything we need set up in the dining room.”
I follow him slowly out of the room and down an ornate hallway. The walls are painted a deep, sultry red, and the wood floors gleam in the dim lighting. We pass by several closed doors before he stops at a door that is opened to reveal a large dining room. My eyes widen when I see what he’s set up for the two of us, and I glance over to see him watching my reaction intently.
49
Chapter Forty Nine
Alana
