“This one did,” the first man in the suit said, motioning to the little girl. “He found her wandering alone at four o’clock this morning. Feisty thing damn near clawed his eyes out.”
The new arrival stepped closer, regarding her, and froze a foot away, eyes widening. The little girl looked up at him, and it took her a moment, but she thought his face looked kind of familiar.
Like maybe she saw it before.
“Son of a bitch,” he grumbled.
“Putting a call into DCFS,” the other man in a suit said. “Going to broadcast an alert, probably blast her picture out there, hoping someone will step forward once DCFS clears it.”
“Don’t bother,” the new man said with a loud sigh. “I know who she belongs to.”
The guy in the uniform looked surprised. “You do?”
“You don’t?” he countered. “Come on, use your eyes. Have you even looked at her? It’s obvious.”
All three men looked at her then.
The little girl didn’t like their attention.
The uniformed still seemed confused, but the other one got a vacant stare as he whispered, “Oh, fuck.”
“Fuck is right,” the newcomer said. She’d call him Sleepy, except he suddenly looked wide awake, so she went with Dopey instead, since it was the only other dwarf she could remember right then. “I’ll handle it personally. I’ve been dealing with this long enough, so I ought to be the one to do it.”
The others didn’t argue, averting their eyes and walking away, as Dopey motioned for her to follow him to an elevator.
“Come on, kid,” he said. “I’m going to make sure you get back to where you belong.”
The little girl liked the sound of that.
She belonged at home with her mother.
Standing up, dragging the blanket along with her, she followed him, her wet shoes squeaking against the floor. Everyone kept looking at her. She didn’t like it. She followed Dopey onto the elevator, still not saying anything, and he led her to an office on another floor, tucked in the back, surrounded by glass.
“Take a seat,” he said, pointing to a chair, before he closed a bunch of blinds, which made the little girl happy. It meant people had to stop staring. She sat down, and he joined her, sitting behind a desk piled high with folders. “This was certainly not how I expected this to go.”
He drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair, regarding her.
The little girl thought he’d ask her all those same questions, about names and parents, but instead he asked, “Are you okay, kid?”
She shrugged.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” He looked her over from a distance. “Before I make any calls, I want to be sure you’re okay.”
“My arm feels funny,” she said. “It got hurt when I fell.”
“You fell?”
She nodded.
“Anything else? Did anyone else hurt you? Another person?”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she shook her head, not wanting to talk about it.
“Are you sure? You can tell me.”
“He took Buster,” she whispered. “He burned him, but not all up.”
“Who’s Buster?”
“My bear,” she said. “And he made Mommy go to sleep, too. She told me to play Hide & Seek, and she would find me, but she hasn’t.”
“But you’re okay?”
She nodded.
She guessed she was.
He picked up the phone, dialing a number. It rang and rang and rang, but she couldn’t hear it. “Hey, it’s, uh... me. I’m calling to let you know that we’ve located your daughter. We’re down at the precinct.”
He paused, sighing. “An officer saw her this morning wandering alone along the beach. She’s okay, though. She’s fine. You’ll just want to get down here right away, you know, before anybody else catches wind of it.”
Another pause. Another sigh.
“See you in a few.” Hanging up, Dopey looked over at her. “Don’t worry, it won’t be long.”
“Do you know Mommy?”
“Your mother?” He let out a light laugh. “Yeah, I met her when this all happened. Someone saw your front door busted down and found her on the kitchen floor.”
“Sleeping.”
“Sleeping,” he agreed. “She told me all about you as soon as she woke up.”
The little girl smiled at Dopey, taking in his expression, almost like her mother made him sad for some reason. He had polka dots on his face, ones the little girl thought were funny. She’d seen them before, but it was weird, because it wasn’t with her mother.
“Anyway, your mother, she’s made the trek to my office every week since then. And today... today makes ten months since she lost you. I’m sure it’ll warrant a visit.”
Ten months.
The little girl didn’t know what to say, but she really didn’t get the chance anyway. There was commotion outside the office, the door shoving open without a knock.
Turning, the first person the little girl saw was the Cowardly Lion, followed by the Tin Man strolling in.
No.
This was wrong.
It wasn’t supposed to be them.
“Come on,” the Cowardly Lion said as soon as she started crying, pulling her out of the chair, scooping her up in his arms as he whispered, “Don’t make a scene, sweet girl, and he’ll forgive you for this.”
But she didn’t want the Tin Man’s forgiveness. She wanted rid of him.
“I appreciate the call,” the Tin Man said, “and I assure you, this will never happen again.”
“Just... take her home, Aristov,” Dopey said, covering his polka-dotted face with his hands. “Get her out of here before this gets any worse than it is.”
Chapter Fourteen
A buzzing sound disturbs the stark silence, pulling me from unconsciousness, so quiet I think my imagination might be playing tricks on me. Forcing my eyes open, I blink rapidly as the faint noise registers with my ears. A soft glow cuts through the darkness right behind me, illuminating the space surrounding me, like I’m cast in a spotlight, but there’s not a stitch of warmth to it. I shiver.
Pushing off the hard ground, sitting up, I turn and see him. Kassian. Just a foot away, he sits in a rusted metal chair, so close he could’ve kicked me had he gotten the urge. My heart stalls a beat, alarmed by his proximity, as I shove away, the filthy concrete scraping against my bare legs.
I don’t get far. It only takes him a few seconds to react, his foot stomping on the chain, abruptly cutting off my slack. Gasping, I grab where it’s wrapped around my neck, my breathing strangled as I pull my knees up to protect myself, forced to stay there. He’s holding his phone, the buzz coming from it.
Somebody’s calling.
Kassian presses a single finger to his lips, warning me to be silent, before he answers it.
“How nice of you to call,” Kassian says, his voice so loud in the vacant basement that I wince. “What can I do for you, Mister Scar?”
Scar. I let out a shaky breath, my lips parting, words on the tip of my tongue, wanting to spring free, yearning to call out to him. Lorenzo. I force the urge down, though, swallowing back the words.
As much as I want to scream, as much as I want to lash out, I know it’s not going to help me right now.
Kassian listens in silence as Lorenzo talks, before a smile cracks his face and he lets out a laugh, the sound of it chilling. My hair stands on end, tears prickling my eyes. Laughter from Kassian isn’t a sign of happiness; it doesn’t signify peace or that everything is all right. Laughter from Kassian is sadistic, dominating, his sense of humor twisted. He laughs at others’ misery.
This time, I think, he’s laughing at mine.
“I look forward to it,” Kassian says, eyeing me, the smile lingering on his lips. “Until then...”
He pulls the phone away from his ear without finishing his thought, ending the call before pressing another button, the light disappearing, leaving us in total darkn
ess. I blink, trying to adjust my eyes so I can make him out, but there’s no natural light down here in the basement.
“Come here,” Kassian says, his voice so quiet that it’s like the shadows are whispering, beckoning me closer.
I don’t move, though.
I want nothing that lives in these shadows.
Kassian gives it maybe ten seconds before the chain jingles. He grabs it, yanking on it like it’s a leash. I try to resist, losing my breath, digging my heels in, but he’s too damn strong. I cry out as I’m dragged along the floor, the concrete skinning my knees and the palms of my hands when I try to catch myself to keep from smacking into it.
As soon as I’m within reach, he grabs where it’s wrapped around my neck and pulls my face right up to his face. I can hardly make him out, even this close, but I can feel his warm breath against my skin.
“I said come here,” he says, his voice still quiet, a forced kind of calm. “Have you gone deaf? Do we need to clean out your ears?”
I don’t answer him.
He doesn’t care about my answer.
Closing my eyes, I hold my breath as he runs his nose along my jawline, the scruff on his face rubbing against my cheek. I’m trembling. I know he can feel it, and I try to stop, but his proximity makes it hard for me to get a grip.
He makes me feel like that teenager again.
“You are still beautiful when you sleep, suka,” he says. “I could not bring myself to wake you. You looked so at peace. You do not look that way when your eyes are open. Why is that?”
“You know why,” I whisper.
He pulls back some, looking me in the eyes, the tip of his nose brushing against the tip of mine. He tilts his head ever-so-slightly, and I let out a shaky breath, knowing he’s thinking about kissing me.
The thought makes me grimace.
“I came down here so we could catch up on your lessons, pretty girl,” he says, just a whisper away from my mouth, “but it seems as if we will have to put that on hold for now.”
He lets go of the chain, and I immediately move away, scrambling to put a bit of space between us. Just a foot or two, just enough so I can’t smell his cologne, so his cruel warmth can’t swaddle me in the cold, damp room.
Standing up, he starts walking away, like he’s just going to leave, like he’s going to go without torturing me for the moment. My stomach twists in knots, heavier than the thick metal constricting my throat. Here I am, after fighting so hard for so long, once more at the mercy of a man who isn’t particularly merciful.
I don’t trust his passive demeanor.
He’s up to something. I know it.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he says, stalling. “I have something for you.”
Of course.
Closing my eyes, I sigh, hearing his steady footsteps as he approaches again. Whatever he’s got, I don’t want it. He can keep it. He can shove it up his ass, for all I care. The only thing I want is to see my daughter, so unless he’s giving me that...
Be gone.
Kassian stalls in front of me, and I peek through the darkness as he reaches into the front pocket of his black slacks, pulling something out. A piece of paper, it looks like, crumbled and folded again and again, into a little square.
“I have been carrying this around for some time,” he says, unfolding it. “I told my kitten that I would give this to you, a gift from her, whenever I saw you again.”
He drops the paper, and it floats to the concrete in front of me. I don’t reach for it right away, just staring at where the paper lands, unable to make out any of it in the darkness. My heart races, like the paper is a ticking time bomb, like it has the power to detonate everything inside of me that I’ve somehow kept together even after Kassian tried to break me apart.
“It will not bite,” he says, his hand on my head, petting my hair before I even realize he’s reaching for me. I instinctively recoil, expecting punishment for the snub—a blow to the face, a thump to the cheek, maybe a hand fisting my hair—but he merely pulls away, turning to leave. “I will let that go this time. Be a good girl this afternoon, and I will have a mattress brought down.”
I shake my head, although I know he can’t see it, whispering, “I don’t want it.”
There used to be a bed down here. There used to be a lot. The first time I found myself locked in here, all those years ago, it looked like a shabby studio apartment, dirty and dark, but yet, it had been livable. You see, since Kassian spent so much time down here, he wanted to be comfortable, but I changed that, because the only thing he cherished more than his own comfort was my suffering. He’d gladly do without if it meant I had nothing.
It went from a regular little jail cell to solitary confinement.
Slowly, piece-by-piece, it all went away. The blankets, the extra clothes, the towels, the sheets. He ripped out the plumbing after I flooded his basement, leaving just a toilet that only flushes when water is poured into it. The bath was removed after I threatened to drown myself, replaced with a hose that is now kept under lock-and-key after I blasted him with cold water when he tried to come near me.
The bed, though, was last to go. He clung to that convenience like a dying man to his last breath, but after I stabbed him with a rusty piece of metal I tore from the box-spring, he finally got rid of it.
That’s when the chains appeared.
Act like an animal and I will treat you like one.
I guess getting that tetanus shot was Kassian’s final straw, because after that, it wasn’t a simple game of willpower anymore.
After that, he became cruel.
Not like locking girls in basements was nice in the first place, but a line was drawn that day. I drew blood. He decided it was time he did the same.
Before then, it was mostly mental. He didn’t want to ruin the goods, so he left no permanent traces of himself. That changed with me, though, and sometimes I wonder if I brought that on myself. Would it have been easier to escape him had I not fought so hard?
“You will change your mind,” he says. “The first time I slam your face into the floor, you will be begging me for that mattress, because it will muffle your cries a lot better than the concrete.”
I bite my lip to keep from reacting to that.
As he starts up the stairs to leave, I reach over, carefully running my fingertips along the paper, feeling the waxy substance coating it. Crayon. She drew me a picture. I smile to myself at that thought, but it quickly fades, worried about what she might’ve drawn, if maybe it was monsters.
“I will turn on a light,” Kassian calls back to me, “so you may see your present.”
A bright light flicks on, harsh and blinding, hurting my eyes. I squint, trying to ward it off, and look at the paper as I pick it up.
My stomach clenches, bile burning my throat.
I hear the door open and close, locks clicking into place as he walks out, leaving me simmering under the harsh lights with tears burning my eyes. I try to exhale, but the air is trapped in my chest, pressure building until I feel like I’m going to burst. I can’t seem to take a breath.
It’s a picture she drew of me.
I cover my mouth with my hand, stifling a sob, my other hand shaking the paper as I grip it tightly. After a moment, I clutch it to my chest, hugging it as I pull my legs up. Tears stream down my cheeks, streaking my dirty bare legs as I rest my head on my knees and cry.
And cry.
And cry.
Please let her be okay.
I give myself twenty minutes.
Or well, at least I think I do.
I don’t exactly have a watch here.
It’s hard to judge time in a void, and it’s not as if counting the seconds would make much of a difference, since I’d eventually waver and have to start over.
But it feels like twenty minutes before I swallow back my fears, wiping away my tears as I pull myself together, taking it one shaky breath at a time. Getting to my feet, I pace around, moving as far as the chain will l
et me go, stretching, trying to keep my strength up despite my soreness... despite my exhaustion... despite my thirst, my hunger, my fear...
You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.
I need a way out. I don’t yet know what that way is, but I’m imagining it’s not going to be easy, because getting out entails somehow getting past Kassian.
He said I wasn’t leaving this basement until I loved him. I made him believe I loved him once. Hell, maybe I actually did. I remember a time when I looked at Kassian like the universe existed beneath his skin, stars twinkling in his eyes, constellations in his soul, air and atmosphere and water forming his strong, masculine body, like without the breath from his lungs, breathing life into us all, the sun would no longer burn. I thought he was the Heavens and the Earth, I thought he was my savior, but he was really just Hell in disguise. They always did say the devil was beautiful.
I know too much now, though, and so does he.
I’m not sure I could ever trick him into believing I still love him, but unless you have a better idea... no? Didn’t think so.
Yeah, I’m totally screwed…
The basement door opens as I continue to pace, not a stitch of slack left in the chain as I move away from it as far as I can, turning to face the wall, needing a moment to dry my lingering tears before I can bring myself to look at him. There are footsteps on the stairs, too restrained to be Kassian’s, my head dizzy as a soft voice rings out. “Morgan?”
Slowly, I turn.
Alexis.
I saw her just days ago, standing in Lorenzo’s house. She’d been nervous then, but she seems to be even more nervous now. I’d already been deeply entrenched in life here when Kassian found her, another sweet little runaway girl in the city, one of the invisible, the forgotten. If you’re all alone, on your own, it means there’s nobody coming to save you, nobody to even miss you when you disappear. He exploits that, making you believe that without him, you’re nothing.
You have nothing; you mean nothing.
But he made a grave mistake with me.