Chapter 14 - Watched

CHIARA

I consider asking Irene about the camera's, but I doubt a psycho like Massimo would let anyone know about them, even if she does know about them, she has shown me that her loyalty stands with Massimo, I can't risk letting her in on whatever I plan on doing.

I have my breakfast while listening to Irene chatter on about her parents, how their love is still solid and their favourite dishes. I gave subtle responses when needed while using my eyes to scan the room for angles where I saw the videos being displayed on the screen. One camera is definitely in the ceiling above the bed, there should be one in the bathroom and one should be across the bed to the left.

I finish my breakfast and Irene packs up before taking her leave. As soon as Irene is gone, I get up and stand on the bed, stretching towards the ceiling, but my hands can't reach it and I groan in frustration. I guess I'll deal with the ceiling's camera later.

I hop down from the bed and begin to systematically search the room for any other signs of cameras. I start with the bathroom, scanning every inch of the walls, floor, and ceiling. I check the shower, the sink, and even the toilet, but I don't see any obvious signs of a camera. I run my hands over the tiles, feeling for any slight bumps or irregularities that could indicate a hidden lens. But my search yields nothing.

Next, I move on to the main room, searching the shelves, the dresser, and the nightstand. I lift up vases, picture frames, and even the clock, but I don't see any cameras or evidence of hidden lenses. I check the curtains, the blinds, and even the rugs, but I don't find anything suspicious. I'm starting to feel frustrated and defeated, wondering if I was wrong about the cameras.

I take a deep breath and try to think logically. If I were Massimo, where would I put the cameras? I think about the layout of the room, the angles and the blind spots. And then, I remember the video feed I saw on the screen. I recall the angles and the views, and I start to piece together the locations of the cameras. I hate that I have to try thinking like Massimo at this very moment, every single thought that goes through his head will always be disgusting to me, but since I am doing it for a good cause, it doesn't really matter.

I decide to search the bathroom again, this time paying closer attention to the walls and the corners. And then, I see it, a small hole in the wall, just above the sink. It's tiny, but it looks like it was recently drilled. I frown, my heart racing with excitement. This must have been where one of the cameras was hidden.

I examine the hole more closely, and I see signs of adhesive residue around the edges. It looks like the camera was removed recently, maybe even since I last saw Irene. Why did he take out the cameras? Right, he probably watched the footage from his office, so he knows I'm aware of the cameras, but why would he take them out? Did he decide to stop watching me or did be just change their locations? I'm very sure the camera in the ceiling is no longer there too.

How exactly does this man think?

I think back to how he made me feel last night and my cheeks heat up. Yes, I did find him attractive in the beginning and I felt something, but all those died when he caught me trying to escape and went full monster mode. Thinking about it now, he never hurts me unless I do something... like provoke him, and that is exactly what I've been doing since the night he forced himself on me.

"Yes Chiara, he raped you. Last night was just your body responding to...him? Fucking hell! My body should not respond to him! I even had an orgasm for fucks sake! What is wrong with me? Did he do something to me while I was unconscious...", I walk back into the room and pull at my hair in frustration.

I pace back and forth across the room, trying to process my thoughts and emotions. I feel like I'm torn between two conflicting realities. On one hand, I know that Massimo is a monster, a rapist and a captor who has taken away my freedom and autonomy. But on the other hand, my body seems to be betraying me, responding to his touch and presence in ways that I don't want or understand.

I stop pacing and look at myself in the mirror, searching for answers. What is wrong with me? Why did I respond to him like that? Was it just a physical response, or was it something more? No, there's nothing more. He touched me, any woman would respond to that even when it's forced, right?

I think back to the night he forced himself on me, trying to remember every detail. I remember the pain and the fear, but I also remember the feeling of being disconnected from my body, like I was floating outside of myself, watching everything happen from afar.

And then I think about last night, about the way my body responded to Massimo's touch. I remember the sensations, the feelings of pleasure and release. But I also remember the shame and the guilt, the feeling of being betrayed by my own body.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I know that I'm not to blame for what happened, that Massimo is the one who is responsible for his actions. But I also know that I need to find a way to reconcile my body's responses with my own sense of self and autonomy.

I look around the room, searching for something to distract me from my thoughts but there's nothing. Wait a second, there's a library.

I hastily find my way to the library and search between the shelves...the very section that caught my eyes the first time I was in here. "The Fashion Designing Books" section. I am pretty sure books like that can never be found in a library, so this section made for a reason...Is it me? Massimo knows I'm a fashion designer, so he did this for me to not feel disconnected from what I love the most while I'm his captive? That's some really romantic fucked up shit. I laugh at my situation before pulling out a book that is filled with different designs sketches and settle myself down on the settee.

I flip through the pages of the book, and I feel happiness wash over me. The sketches and designs are beautiful, and I find myself getting lost in the intricate details and creative ideas. I remember the days I spent sketching designs in my office, the feeling of fabric between my fingers, and the thrill of bringing a new idea to life.

As I turn the pages, I start to feel a pang of sadness. I think about the life I left behind, the career I built, and the freedom I took for granted. I wonder if I'll ever be able to design again, to create something beautiful and meaningful. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I think about the uncertainty of my future.

But as I continue to flip through the book, something sparks inside me. A design begins to take form in my head, and I can feel the familiar thrill of creativity coursing through my veins. I start to look around the library, searching for something to draw with.

"Looking for this?", I jump in my seat and turn to see Massimo standing just few feet away from me, his usual expressionless look is in place. He is holding out a sketchbook and a set of pencils and I narrow my eyes at him. I am surprised but I feel wary of him at the same time. Why is he back so soon? Wait, I must have lost track of time. Still, why is he giving me pencils... something I could stab him with?

I hesitate for a moment but I reach out and take the sketchbook and pencils from him, my fingers brushed against his and I frown at the sensations I feel from the contact. I eye the items in my hands before shooting him a glare.

"You even know the brand of pencils I prefer? How long have you been stalking me?"

"I'm not sure...", he moves closer anf bends down towards me... getting in my face. "Let's say, all your life".

"What?!" He winks and I give him another annoyed look. Annoying motherfucker.

"How exactly do you know me? You must have noticed by now that I have no recollection of you whatsoever. Why don't you just make this easier for us?". I lean back on the settee away from him, waiting for him to spill it.

"I would, but where's the fun in that?"

Another glare and he laughs. I feel a shiver run down my spine. There's something about the sound that's unsettling, yet intriguing at the same time. It's a deep, rich laugh that seems to come from within, and it's infectious. Despite myself, I feel a slight twitch of my lips, a hint of a smile that I quickly suppress.

But what really catches me off guard is the way my body responds to the sound of his laughter. I feel a flutter in my chest, a warmth that spreads through my veins. It's a sensation that's both familiar and foreign, and it leaves me feeling confused and uneasy.

I try to push the feeling aside, focusing instead on my anger and frustration. Fuck him! I glare at him, trying to convey my annoyance, but he just smiles and leans in closer.

"I'll give you a hint. You remember your doctor? The one your dad took you to when you were a kid? Well, that doctor was a psychologist, and she may or may not have wiped out some of your memories...on your father's command."

What.The.Actual.Fuck!