Chapter Fifty Two
Raleigh
Sliding down the hardwood of the door, broken sobs escape me as I realize just how utterly fucked I truly am. There’s no way I can escape my captors even if I wanted to. Along with the man who hauled me out of the woods and into the house, there were at least four other men that I saw who were stationed either outside of the house or inside of it, probably to make sure that I *don’t* manage to escape again.
And even if I were to manage to slip past the men who serve to *babysit* me, where would I go? How would I hide? There is nothing and no one for miles and I don’t know these woods at all, so trying to survive in them, whether it be overnight or not, without being caught, isn’t very likely to happen.
I give myself a few minutes to feel sorry for myself and then I stand up and get to work straightening up the mess that I made. Once I’ve finally got the room back to almost its original condition, save for a few things that are ruined beyond repair, I flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft mattress, and stare up at the ceiling my mind a mess of everything that’s happened over the last forty-eight hours.
Wondering if maybe there is something to write on in one of the drawers of the nightstand, I clip over onto my stomach and then scoot until I’m leaning over the side of the bed. Pulling open the drawer, my eyes widen when I find several empty notepads as well as some pencils lying beside them.
Wanting a way to be able to keep track of time, not knowing how long I may be kept here, I start writing:
*Friday, February 25*
*Day One: This morning I woke up after having been run off the road and then kidnapped. I don’t know who has taken me but they have made sure that I had medical treatment and that I’m being fed.*
*Day Two: I tried to escape today. I was caught and brought back to the room that I had trashed before said escape attempt. I’m scared. I miss my brothers and I miss Lincoln and Serenity. I hope that help comes soon.*
A knock on the door pulls my attention from my writing and I tense, fear taking over as I drop down onto the floor, hiding. When Julia pokes her head into the room seconds before entering with a plate of food and a glass of water, I release a breath and get to my feet, still keeping my distance as I don’t really know if I can trust her considering that she *is* still helping her *Master* hold me hostage.
“Hello, Dear,” Julia greets, her face brightening when she sees me. “I’ve brought you some lunch.” Lifting up the tray slightly, she steps forward and sits it on the bed, then places the glass of water on the nightstand.
Climbing back onto the bed, I lean against the headboard and pull the plated sandwich into my lap. “You caused quite a stir this morning,” she remarks, halting me from taking a bite as she glances about the room, a frown marring her face as she takes in the damage that’s been left in my wake.
“I just want to go home,” I say softly, pleading with my eyes for her to understand and show some sympathy and help me.
“Oh, Dear,” she says and then moves to lean against the bed next to me. I set the uneaten triangle back on the plate and wait for whatever it is that she’s going to say. “Is it really so bad here?” But before I get the chance to say anything she continues, “I know it isn’t your home but my Master feeds you, clothes you, makes sure that you are comfortable at all times. And with time, I imagine he would even let you roam about the property. He wants you to make this place your home just as much as what it is his, he just wants for you to accept it as such first.”
“But it’s *not!*” I shout, tears of frustration building in my eyes. “He ran me off of the road and he took me and now he is holding me against my will,” I explain, thinking maybe if she knew the truth of what happened, she would let me go, or help me, something. *Anything.* “I don’t want to be here! I want to go home to my family. Home to my brothers, my best friend. To my boyfriend. I don’t want to be kept here waiting for this insane *Master* that you speak of to do God only knows to me. And who even refers to themselves as someone's *Master* anymore?”
Instead of answering my questions, Julia stands up gives me a sad smile, and then gestures to the bathroom, “You may want to clean up. You don’t want any of those scratches to get infected. There are plenty of clothes for you in the dresser and in the closet,” and then she heads for the door.
I watch as she opens the door and then shuts it behind her, the sound of the lock clicking into place a moment later but all I can think about is that this *Master* bought me clothes? The sandwich in my lap long forgotten, I hop off of the bed and first rush over to the dresser, opening the first drawer that I come to and find it filled with panties.
Pulling out one of the scraps of lace, I find that they are in fact my size. Then, opening another drawer, I find matching bras that are also in my size. With dread pooling in my gut, I walk over to the closet and wrench open the door, only to find it bursting at the seams, it’s filled so full of clothes that I have no doubt will also be not only in my size but also my style.
Flipping through a few of them, I find that my suspicions are correct when I pull out several items that are the exact same as what I have in my own closet at home.
It’s at this point that a few things occur to me.
Firstly, there is no way that this was a spur-of-the-moment thing. This was definitely premeditated.
Secondly, whoever this person is, even if I don’t know them, they certainly seem to know me and the fact that someone has paid *this* close of attention to me and I’ve not noticed…It makes me sick.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
