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17. Road Trip.
The sun settles through the window, shining onto my exposed skin and warming it. The air conditioning is chilly, and I'm blanketless thanks to Kellan. He had jumped up to fix breakfast and bring it up. It's almost the same everyday. Three meals, humiliating shower if I've behaved and some crazy, uncomfortable, or painful experience. I'm debating on throwing my entire mind away, because I'm becoming accustomed to this. Eerily comfortable. The intimacy of it all, the nudity, the abuse have all destroyed my modesty and sense of morality. I've become so focused on staying alive that I've lost my ability to separate what I thought was my acting from my true nature.
I slept like a baby last night after I summoned the nerve to wake him and ask for water. He had instead brought me a warm tea, and it soothed me. Ibtry to stretch as best I can and situate my cramping neck. I had fallen asleep with ny neck in a bind. Kellan was still holding
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Viscious 18. Guests.
My face is pressed against the crack as I listen and watch. No sign of anybody yet, and the heater finally is starting to effect me. I'm sweating and tired. Still sore from my bruises, stabs and recent slaps and strangling. She has to come out. She can't just spend the night. It hasn't been long, perhaps he is trying to fix her food and a movie in the livingroom so she can't find anything incriminating. I feel pathetic and stupid, spying as I am, but I have hope still. Even if it's a slight spark, it's still enough to keep me going. I debate even screaming at her when she comes out, but I know that he'll likely follow her out and come mock me. I hear the telltale creak of the screen door and I hold my breath, listening. "Where are you going? Wait!" I hear Kellan yell. "I'm going ho
Viscious 19. Liar.
It has been days since the teller was murdered. I have been quiet most times, not certain what to say to Kellan and certainly in no mood to comfort my captor about his sadness at eventually having to kill me. Kellan has alternated between talkative, soft, and brooding. One minute he has nothing but praise and foot rubs, the next I'm getting lashes or struck for no reason. He especially becomes angry if I refuse to tell him I love him, or that I don't remember saying it. I don't though, and I don't remember it either, but I no longer argue. He could tell me the sky was purple and I'd go in depth to describe the shades to him just to avoid the whip. He enjoys whipping me. If I am too 'good' he will purposely set me off or frighten me so he has an excuse to get his hands on me. After he does this he will pamper me. Lotions, praise, extra
Viscious 20. Out of Line.
I had forgotten how sore ny body was, every muscle and injury competing for attention as I back into the spindle, prepared to run again. The crack has given me hope. I can and I will bust this spindle and run. I tuck my arms to the same side and angle myself so I can use all my strength and speed without damaging my arms as badly. A fresh wave of adrenaline washes over me and I bolt. I almost squeal in delight when I hear the satisfying snap of the spindle. I pull the chains up with me and reel in the spindle shard as I take off. I bound for the woods, smart enough not to go straight down thevroad as my heart yearns to do. He would find me too easily. I can follow it from the woods. I feel guilty at leaving the girl behind, but maybe with him searching for me it'll distract from her and I can contact police. Yeah, and what about when he rolls on you for killing Bobbi? Should I try to ki
Viscious 21. Warped.
I remember very little after he brought my mom inside. He put her in the other room, and after taking anything out that could be a weapon and chaining her on one side of the room by a wrist, he left her food and let her be. He swore to me that she could walk about comfortably. She has a bathroom and bed, and a TV that he controls for her that is out of reach. It's hard to believe him though, because he lies.After telling me this, he helped me to shower and fed me soup through a straw, but I couldn't stand to use the straw. It was excruciating and I cried. So he patiently ladeled little spoons full of broth into my mouth, encouraging me to take more and more. He held the cup while I sipped my drink. The voice he spoke to me in was as smooth as the honey in the hot toddy I sipped for pain relief. It was stout, and warm. And after it slipped down my throat, a needle slipped into my skin. I fought against it in shock and fear, but soon I slipped away still coc
Viscious 22. Mother's Instincts.
Mom sits at the foot of her bed, legs crossed and elbows rested on them as she eyes me warily. I can tell she is judging my appearance to find loopholes in Kellan's story. Her brow raises in disdain as she grimaces at my bruised jaw. It's godawful of course, but I expected nothing less. On a positive note, at least nobody will see it other than us. You could cut the tension with a knife. I'm almost shocked to see he had kept his word and kept her safe. Kellan slouches awkwardly by the door. I am worried though, because I can sense my mother's attitude and Kellan's lack of patience both striving to surface. Mom finally breaks the silence. "My baby. I was worried sick." She smiles too widely and blinks too slow. "You sure you okay?" "I'm positive. Are you though?"
Viscious 23. Unfair.
"I would. Is there a problem?" "N-no! No. I was just telling mom how far you would go for me." "I would kill for you." He states, confirming my earlier statement. Chills roll up my spine. Mom is wary as she looks at him. I rise to my feet and approach him, subtly placing myself between he and mom. "I'm glad my daughter has found someone so dedicated. I'd kill for her too." She retorts. "I'm glad we are on the same page." He says flatly. "I'm going to borrow Alina for the evening, I'll have plenty of food and drink for you shortly." He pulls me from the room and into the living room. I'm a bit alarmed at the change in scenery, but I sit beside him on the couch. He gestures me close
Viscious 24. Sorry.
The scent of warm blackberry pancakes wafts through the kitchen. The blinds are open and windows slightly cracked to allow the breeze and fresh air to enter the room. Kellan sits across the table from me in his sleep shorts, his chest bare as he stretches and takes in the scent of the pancakes. He picked these berries himself, and froze them for winter he claimed. I fixed our food this morning, he sat far back guarding the door where he would be out of range of pans or hot liquids. I've already killed two people, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that he'd be leery of me scalding him with a pancake or beating him with a hot pan. We enjoy our meal and Kellan slathers his pancakes with butter and a dollop of cream cheese mixed with his syrup. He begs for seconds, and luckily I had fixed a large enough stack that I could bring him more without having to mix a new batch. He eats and watches me with adorin
Viscious 25. Moving.
I sit in the room, knees up to my chest and chewing the inside of my jaw. My eyes are heavy and burn. I have a lingering headache that I'm quite certain is verging into migraine territory. My bottom is stinging. The sun shines through the window, MOCKING me, as I cannot quite reach the window to climb out or shut the blinds. This is it. I'm nucking futs. You know you are in peak psychological shape when you think the very sun is mocking you, and you want to fight with it. I want to fight everything. I've already been in trouble this morning for being combative and refusing to eat or drink anything that did not come prepackaged and sealed. Knowing that my mother died by poison has curbed any appetite or trust i might have had. He denied me my morning shower, and bent me over his knee like a child to try to 'discipline' me with a metal
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