Chapter Text
You didn’t remember falling asleep. You remembered coming home after another fuck ass day of trying to remind your editor that you got hired as a journalist and not some glorified assistant. You were supposed to do research, have interviews instead of just scheduling them and needing to memorize the entire offices coffee orders.
Every fucking lead you’d presented them with, information scraped together in your scarce free time because they didn’t pay you a living wage yet. So one job wasn’t enough, forcing you to job as a barista too, got dismissed. Brushed over or worse, handed to someone else.
Talk about fair.
Not that you had thought it would be easy, but fuck, you hadn’t expected it to be so hard either. Almost a year since you moved to New York and you had nothing to show for it. Not even a loyal group of friends.
Braving the life you’d once dreamed off all by yourself.
No, not all by yourself. You had Pepper. The orange tabby that lived in the alley behind your apartment building. You’d started feeding her a couple month ago. You’d even built her a little shelter out of an empty box and blankets you’d lined with trash bags to make sure it wouldn’t rot after the first time it rained.
If your landlord would allow pets, you’d have already tried to lure her inside. Especially now, since it kept rapidly getting colder and you weren’t sure how well the shelter would hold up during the New York fall and winter.
Right, Pepper. You’d stopped by her spot like you always did, she’d disappeared a couple days ago. The cat food you left out for her untouched. Just like last night. Worry had twisted your stomach when you’d turned around to go inside. Except you didn’t remember checking for mail or going upstairs.
But you had. You must have. How else would you have wound up asleep?
Your body felt heavy too. Like you’d slept for an unusually long time. Hadn’t you heard your alarm?
Where was your phone?
Your body didn’t cooperate when you blindly tried to reach for it. Limbs tangled in sheets, your movements sluggish. A groggy sound made it past your lips, half muffled by the pillow your face was smushed against.
Were you getting sick? Fuck no. You better not. You didn’t have time to. You’d just started compiling notes on something that looked promising. You’d been asked to summarise infos on some real estate tycoon you’d never heard off. You know, doing the research before the research, so whoever took over once you’d found something, would have it easier.
And somehow you’d made your way to accessing financial documents and you knew fuck about finances—- but something wasn’t adding up. Money moving in ways it shouldn’t and then just disappearing from equations.
So you couldn’t afford getting sick. Because this, this could be the break you’d been fighting for since moving here. But judging from the throbbing ache that steadily worked its way through your skull, and the heaviness in your limbs, you were on your way there.
You must have drifted off again. Without ever finding your phone and checking for the time or if you overslept — since nobody called, yelling about your whereabouts, you couldn’t have; because something rouses you again.
Or a lack thereof.
There was no noise, no sound. Not the hum of your refrigerator, not the crescendo of the busy streets outside. There was just silence. Heavy, like a thick blanket covering the world. Something wasn’t right but your mind was too sluggish to connect the dots, too deluded to feel fear or a spark of panic that might have gotten you to open your eyes. Instead you were just pulled under again.
That spark came the third time you clawed your way back to consciousness.
Not because of the lack of noise, nor because your body still didn’t quite cooperate but because you remembered something. Gravel crunching under a heavy boot, a solid body you crashed against, startled, a figure looming over you, a low voice before it had all grown dark.
“‘m sorry babygirl.”
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You were pressed against the wall, your heart racing, your body shaking both from fear and the effort it took you to remain upright. You could taste bile— A panic response, or maybe brought on by the throbbing headache that still penetrated your skull.
This wasn’t your apartment. Fuck, this probably wasn’t even New York anymore. A glance towards the large, floor-to-ceiling windows gave you nothing except the knowledge that you were in the middle of fucking nowhere. Surrounded by a thick green forest. No landmarks in sight. So if you would make it outside, you wouldn’t know where to go, where to run.
Except there was no fucking chance you’d make it outside. Not that you were shackled or in some dungeon. No, the room looked nice, comfortable even. Book shelves, plants, a wall mounted tv, large windows, a walk in closet leading to a bathroom. Fuck if you wouldn’t know any better you’d think you were in some fancy hotel.
But you knew better.
Or enough — your mind was still sluggish, a little slow on the upkeep, but you sure as hell knew that you didn’t know where the fuck you were, how you got here and who the fuck the man was sitting between the bed and the door.
He hadn’t moved or shown a reaction, acknowledgement aside, when you’d scrambled off the bed and to the wall farthest from him. The large black dog laying beside him, had lifted it’s head curiously.
“‘m sorry ‘bout the headache,” the same voice you remembered, a low deep rumble. “’s a nasty side effect. But I had to make sure you’d stay asleep.”
“Where the fuck am I?” Your voice croaked, dry from lack of use. How long had you been out?
“Water’s on the nightstand, pills will help,” he ignored your question. Like hell would you take anything he offered you. And he must’ve seen that on your face, because he offered a “’s just Ibuprofen.” And when you still didn’t make a move, he huffed “Suit yourself.”
Your eyes darted back towards the door he and the dog — a Cane Corso you think, blocked; and then back to the window. “Ain’t gonna hurt you,” he continued, his voice the same, almost soft gravely tone. You scoffed. He’d drugged you and dragged you to… wherever the fuck you were. As if you’d believe that.
The dog shifted, looking up at him before getting up, curiously sniffing towards you. “Titan ain’t gonna hurt you either. ’s just curious. Sat here all day, watchin’ you.” You only pressed yourself further against the wall, not keen on finding out whether or not he was being honest. Watching how he snapped his fingers and the dog — Titan, settled down again, a disappointed noise accompanying his movements. “Got your cat,” he continued unfazed. “Pepper, right? ’s out back, by the barn.”
Your head snapped up, away from the window and the ocean of trees behind it.
Pepper?
“I—- want to see her.” You jaw set, nose turned up an inch. Showing him that you wouldn’t accept no for an answer. As if held any bargaining power here.
“Sure. But first,” he nodded towards the glass on the nightstand and the pills beside it. Perhaps you could smash it against his head and then… and then the dog would be on you. Right, not an option. “’s just water and Ibuprofen Nothin’ else. Look,” he got up and you flinched, immediately bracing yourself for the worst but all he did was grab the glass and pills, holding them out to you. “Which one?”
“Huh?” You stared at the three white pills in his outstretched palm. He’d kept his distance, not crowding you. But he didn’t have to—- towering over you regardless. Tall, broad shoulders, a plain blue sweatshirt stretching over muscles that had dragged you out here. Wherever out here was.
“I’d prefer you take all three but,” he huffed, “‘suppose gotta show you I ain’t poisoning you. ’n fore you argue I knew which one was the placebo…”
You glanced toward the door again, gauging your chances.
They were higher if you made it outside. He couldn’t crowd you there.
“You swear you’ll take me outside to see Pepper if I take them?” Trusting the word of your abductor, how much sincerity could be behind it really?
“I do,” he affirmed, “Titan’s my witness.”
Right, sure. Whatever. “This one,” you pointed towards the pill closest to his thumb, and without much ado, he popped it into his mouth, chasing it with a gulp of water. Much to your surprise, he placed the remaining two pills on the nightstand again, along with the water, before sitting back down.
He didn’t rush you to take it, didn’t force you to take it, he just—- sat there, watching you. Like he must have before you woke up. “Got all the time in the world babygirl,” something inside of you twisted when he said that. “’n case you wanna make sure’s no slow release toxin.”
You didn’t reply, just stare him down. Watching for any changes.
Titan, who’d watched the entire exchange, got up before strolling out of the room. When he came back, he carried a small plush bunny, a soft pastel pink with floppy ears. You watched in silence how he dropped it on the ground, before nudging it towards you. “He’s bargaining. ’s his favourite toy. Has had it since he was a pup,” Titan made a noise in agreement, settling beside your captor again. The plush looked old, well loved, but it was intact. “Picked it himself, didn’t you?” You watched how a hand large enough to crush your neck settled atop the dogs head.
Another huff in agreement.
The dogs ears were neither cropped nor did he have a docked tail. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen a Cane Corso with floppy ears,” you heard yourself say.
“Don’t believe in animal cruelty.”
“Right but taking hostages apparently.”
He laughed. He fucking laughed. “Yeah, there’s a whole lot of irony in that,” he shook his head, “More than you know babygirl.”
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You don’t know how long you stood there, watching him and Titan, who occasionally, quiet pointedly looked at the plush that laid halfway between his perch and you. But eventually wanting relief from the raging headache that still had a tight grip on you won out, over any distrust you were still feeling. You took the pills, praying they’re in fact ibuprofen and then gulp down the water, praying that it was in fact just that. Water.
“Good girl,” he praised and you shuddered.
“Don’t call me that!” You snapped.
“But you did well, babygirl. Taking care of yourself. ’s all I want.” Your stomach lurched painfully and for a moment you thought you’d see the pills and water again but by some miracle, they stayed down. “’s fast release. You should feel better soon,” he continued like you hadn’t just almost thrown up. “You ready to see Pepper now?”
You shoot him an irritated look, because he had said he would only after you took the pills.
Instead of an answer, you bent down to grab the plush, watching Titan’s tail wag immediately. Maybe if the dog liked you, he wouldn’t hunt you down when you made a run for it.
“Or you want me to explain everythin’ first?” Your head snapped up and Titan inched forward, towards you. ‘Coz I need you to understand why y’re here,” he continued, his voice the same calm, almost soft drawl wrapped into a thick southern accent.
Did it make a difference? Why you were here? Why you had been taken.
In the long run? No. Because you couldn’t even be sure whether or not he would be telling the truth. Which so far he had. Titan might be continuing to inch towards you and the plush you still held but he didn’t seem threatening towards you and you hadn’t dropped dead from the pills and water either.
Yet.
And the the investigative journalist that still was very much alive in you, wanted to know.
“Okay,” you decided to bite, sinking down along the wall just as Titan had cautiously sniffed towards your fingers. The pup instantly jumped back, almost looking concerned like he’d caused this, looking back to your captor for help. “Sorry,” you immediately gave into the urge to comfort the four pawed beast of a dog that now towered over you. “Didn’t mean to startle you,” you said, offering him the bunny plush.
He didn’t take it, sniffing your fingers instead. You’d always loved animals, and when the pup pressed his massive head into your palm you didn’t think twice about petting him. “Why am I here?” You asked, trying to ignore how pleased he looked when Titan settled beside you.
“You’re not a prisoner,” he started out.
“Great, then let me go.” You countered.
“Can’t. And if ya’ll let me talk ya’ll see why,” you glared daggers at him. “Good,” he breathed, “‘m Joel,” he finally introduced himself. As if you cared. As if it made a difference. “’n I work for an organisation that deals in—- problem solvin’,” he explained.”Ya know, when, say, some investigative journalist goes diggin’ at somethin’ she ain’t supposed ta.” Your mouth went dry.
What?
No.
“I get hired, t’make sure the journalist stops diggin’,” you swallowed. Fingers curling around the plush you still held. “An t’s done best by makin’ sure the journalist won’t ever dig anywhere ‘gain.” You got what he wasn’t saying, what he didn’t want to say.
“Hitmen don’t exist,” you blurt out. “They aren’t a thing. That’s a myth. An urban legend!”
“Ain’t a hitman. Solve problems, ’s all I do.”
“Right, right. But you draw the line at animal cruelty. Good to know you have boundaries.” You snapped.
“Ain’t a joke babygirl. You pissed off the wrong people, they wanted you dead,” he didn’t rise his voice, “Know’s a lot to take in, but’s the truth. You’d be dead if anyone else would’ve picked up your assignment.”
“Bullshit!” You snapped and to your surprise, Titan didn’t move an inch or respond in any form or way. His head continuing to rest heavily in your lap.
Good. So he might let you make a run for it.
“Whatever fucking lie you tell yourself to support this weird ass saviour fantasy of yours, doesn’t work on me.”
He didn’t seem annoyed or irritated, he just tilted his head. “You ain’t in the right ‘space for this conversation. Shoulda known. ‘m sorry for springing this on you right’way.” You blinked confused, not having expected that. “You ain’t a prisoner,” he repeated his earlier words. “This’ your room. Brought some of ya belongings an clothes, to help with the settlin’ in.” You scoffed. Yeah, right. “You’ve got free roam of t’house. Garden too,” He glanced towards the window. “Not past the fence line. For y’own safety. Forrest’s thick, wild animals roam it. Next small town’s thirty miles away.” So he had dragged you to the middle of nowhere. “No neighbours.” Go figure. “You’re safe here. Got cameras lining the property, a security system.”
“You mean you can be sure that I won’t make a run for it.” You huffed.
“’s for your own safety. Ya’ll understand eventually.”
Yeah, if he kept you long enough and the Stockholm Syndrome hit. You shudder. “I want to see Pepper now.”
“Sure,” he nodded, snapping his fingers and Titan got up from your side, trotting back over to him.
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Again, he didn’t crowd you. Waiting for you by the door until you were back on your feet. “My room’s back there,” he gestured towards a door at the end of the hall and for a moment he looked like he expected you to go look. As if you gave two fucks about the house tour he apparently wanted to turn this into. “Study’s here,” he opened a door to your left. The room very much half a library, floor-to ceiling-shelves and rows and rows of books. A large window much like in your room, even if you refused to see it as that. A set of comfortable looking chairs and a couch, a heavy desk in the middle of it, another, smaller one towards the window.
Your laptop. Right beside it was your notebook and the small pencil case that had survived with you from high school to college to New York. And now here apparently. Wherever here was.
“Y’got internet access. Gotta make sure you leave no digital footprint. Closed server system, untraceable. An I hope you understand that I can’t let you access every page.” He explained. “Had to destroy your phone, but got all files backed up.”
What the actual fuck was all this? What sick and twisted game was he playing? He must expect you to try and access any help line possible? No? Closed server? What?
“Problem solution must pay pretty well, huh?” You remarked drily, taking in the space.
“Yeah,” he shrugged a little, “’s a lucrative business.”
“I’m sure.”
Downstairs pretty much was a giant living room with an open kitchen. Again, large windows everywhere, a lot of light. Dark wooden floors, a deep green couch, a fire-place, a TV, Titan’s dog bed that he marched off towards to. As if to show you. Along with a basket full of his toys. A lot of wood and warmth that didn’t fit the image you had of hitmen or the abducting type.
This all made no fucking sense. He’d abducted you, ripped you out of your home, your life. And now he was giving you a tour of his home? Like you were some esteemed guest?
As if you gave a fuck about all of this. Even if the investigative part of your brain did try to piece together the image he presented, the fact that he’d abducted you and this fucking house.
To no avail. There was no logic or sense to it.
Wasn’t he worried you might use one of the large kitchen knives to protect yourself and harm him? Sure, he was taller than you, stronger. But if you caught him off guard?
“Fridge’s fully stocked, pantry too,” he told you, apparently not at all fazed. Or seeing her as a threat as he led you through the kitchen.” Got yer favourites,” he explained, opening the fridge to show you it was stocked with your favourits. Sodas, iced tease, cheese sticks and that yogurt that you liked.
You faltered, taking a step back. Had he been watching you? Observing you? But shouldn’t you have noticed him? How the fuck did he know that you had an unhealthy relationship with cheddar cheese?
“You’ve free range of either and can eat whatever. Provided you eat three balanced meals a day. Can’t live off of greasy take out and sugar forever, babygirl.” Your skin crawled. So he would control what you ate now? You remembered how he had looked at you, pleased, when you’d given in and taken the pills.
The praise that had followed.
Good girl.
“What the actual fuck is all this?” Your arms were crossed in front of your chest.
“My home.” Matter of fact. “Yours now too. Gotta know your way around.” Right, right, sure. Your mistake. What a silly fucking question. Your irritation must have showed on your face, because he continued. “Don’ like people. Stay away from ‘em. Built this place to make sure I don’t have to be around ‘em much,” a shrug. “Made an exception for you.”
Lucky fucking you.
Right, fucking right. You want to snap, to scream, to push, to make a run for the knife block and grab the largest and sharpest to show him just how fucking grateful you felt. But you didn’t know how he would respond to that. Didn’t want to test before you had a weapon in your hands.
He was intimidating. Even if he didn’t try to be.
Same calm voice and a constant distance to you.
So snark it was. “Why am I not surprised that a hitman,” you still didn’t buy that, for all you knew he was some weird, rich freak, wanting to play house with you. “Doesn’t like people,” you deadpan, resorting to dry humour. Because that was easier than attempting to wrap your mind around all of this.
Both a defence and a coping mechanism.
It didn’t help that Joel chuckled.
“I want to see Pepper now,” you reminding him. Not quite sure if he was stalling. If the claim that he had brought the cat too was just to placate you.
“Course, cat’s out by the barn,” he lead you towards a small mud room. The sight of your coat up on a hook right beside his, like it was always there, leaving your skin crawling. He’d made space for you, for your life in his. Like you were meant to be here.
He grabbed his coat, his boots too. While you fought hard against nausea. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to be here. “’s cold out babygirl,” he grabbed your coat, your scarf too. And you wanted to scream at him not to touch any of it. But all you managed to do was grab the coat when he held it out to you. “Good, good girl,” he praised, “No more rushing out without a jacket in the cold, alright?”
You didn’t say a word, too busy fighting against your gag reflex.
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The cold hit you like a slap the second the door opened. Real cold. Not the kind that bit once and then settled. No, the kind that cut deep. Straight through the coat, through your clothes all the way down to your bones.
This definitely wasn’t New York anymore.
Wherever he had taken you, was across state lines.
You hesitated on the threshold, Titan bolting past you like a bullet fired. “Always has to check the permitter,” Joel answered a question you didn’t ask. Right, the fence. Freedom if you managed to make a run for it.
Maybe if you ran in the opposite direction of the dog.
Away from the gate, the road you could track along for some thirty miles. Unrealistic, but better than being at his mercy.
Your eyes flicked towards the fence, following Titan’s direction.
Too high. Too clean. Too intentional.
This wasn’t just a fence, this was a fucking wall.
Impossible to scale. Impossible to get over.
Your stomach dropped.
“T’keep out the wildlife,” Joel had followed your gaze, “Kept messin’ with the chickens a green house.”
No. You think, to keep you in.
You swallowed, finally taking a step forward. Out of the house. Careful to hide your disappointment, the sense of dread that nestled behind your ribs.
“Pepper’s at the barn,” he gestured towards a large red barn. “Set her up inside. Blankets ’n such.” You nod, mechanically. Your legs like lead. The realisation that this was it. That there was no way out, bringing forth a fear you hadn’t felt before. When you’d still hoped that you could get away. “Had her checked at the vet’s too,” he continued, seemingly unaware, luckily, about your struggles. “Got a clean bill o’health.”
Another nod, mechanical, stiff. An attempt to show him that you listened even if you had trouble to follow him the shrill, alarm-bell-like ringing in your ears, drowned him out.
You were stuck. With a freak that had abducted you. After stalking you. To learn every fucking thing about you. Spinning some outlandish tale about how he’d safed you. How he kept you safe.
And he went off about the alley cat you’d been feeding for the last couple months that he’d taken too. Because ruining one life wasn’t enough.
That much for being against animal cruelty.
You were halfway towards the barn, when you spotted an orange fur ball moving through the thick grass.
Pepper.
Titan barrelled past you again, aiming for Pepper and for a moment you want to call out. Rush after him and intervene, but the Cane Corso stopped right in front of her. Down on his front paws, tail wagging.
“Hasn’t quite gotten the hang of interactin’ w’her,” Joel breathed, “Think she’s tolleratin’ him.” You watched, how she studied him, tail flicking. “Means she can come inside, w’it bein’ cold ’n all. ’s only gonna get worse.”
Having grown tired of Titan, Pepper made her way towards you, unleashing a string of complaints all the way into your arms.
The ringing stopped at once. A sense of calmness, fragile and tied to the purring cat in your arms settling over you. Because for a moment you could pretend, nose buried in her soft fur, that you were at home. In the alley behind your apartment building. That this only was a terrible fucking nightmare you would wake up from any moment.
Except, that it wasn’t.
Because Joel was right there, watching you, always watching you, when you opened your eyes again.
“She’ll come inside then,” you decided, not letting Pepper off your arms when you turned back towards the house. Wanting nothing more than to outrun the fence and the realisation that had settled in with seeing it.
He only nodded. “Sure.” No arguments, no objections. Like he’d planned for this all along. Your fingers trembled, the idea that he somehow anticipated every reaction, every decision, an unsettling one. It felt like you were a pawn in a game you weren’t aware of yet.
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He left you be. Neither trying to stop you nor trying to follow you when you rushed up the stairs and back into your room, Pepper still on your arms.
You could hear Titan on the steps behind you, until a snap cut through the air and the noise of his paws died down and then headed the opposite direction. Joel had called him back and you can hear him say something to the pup before you closed the door. Not caring enough to listen closely to make out what he said.
No lock.
Go figure. Of course you couldn’t lock the door. But there was a cat bed. Right, of course. A fucking cat bed. You have half a mind to throw it out the room but then you don’t want to deny Pepper her comfort, even if you carefully settled her onto the bed.
For a moment you consider to block the door, or at the very least the door handle, with a back of a chair like you’d seen in movies or on television but at the same time you were sure that if he wanted into the room, he would get into the room one way or another. So you abandoned that for the time being and dug through the room instead.
Maybe you’d find a weapon. Anything to guarantee your safety. Something that ensured you weren’t completely at his mercy. Except, all that you find are your belongings, your books, your clothes.
Not all. But enough. The last book you had started reading was on the desk, bookmark still tucked between the pages. Your favourite hoodie, the shirt you tended to sleep in, worn soft, a pair of sweats—- alongside it clothes that you would buy, that would easily fit into your closet to downright belonging there. Except you’d never bought them yourself.
He had.
Nausea twisted your stomach when you pulled open another drawer. Socks and underwear. Both bought and yours. Your fucking underwear. Your stomach lurched painfully at the thought of him touching it. But it wasn’t what had you heaving over the toilet.
Seeing your skin care set up on the bathroom counter, placed and sorted exactly like you had it at home, was the final nail in the coffin. You threw up what little had in your stomach. Water and bile. While hot tears burned against your cheeks.
He’d watched you. Observed you, stalked you. And then bent his life in a way that fully enclosed you. Why hadn’t you seen it coming? Why hadn’t you noticed him? How long had he watched you? Had you been too wrapped up in everything else that you hadn’t notice him?
Fuck.
You just wanted this nightmare to end.
“Babygirl?” He knocked, your captor fucking knocked. “You gotta eat some,” he called through the door. He had completely invaded and violated your privacy and now he knocked.
In an attempt to create the illusion of it. A false sense of security, that you had a choice here.
“Gonna make dinner. Figured you wouldn’t eat somethin’ you didn’t see me make…” he wasn’t wrong about that You didn’t trust him at all. Even if the ibuprofen turned out to be just that. Because your headache had dimmed. If not fully disappeared. “Babygirl?” Another knock.
“I—- I will come downstairs.” You called back, your voice tight, sure that he wouldn’t accept a no. “Just a minute.” You didn’t let him see that he, that this got to you. Whatever twisted game he was playing, until you understood the rules it was better to play along.
He wasn’t waiting in front of the door, when you stepped out of the room after splashing water into your face. Pepper snuck out of the room with you, darting away to explore the house.
Downstairs Joel was waiting for you in the kitchen, Titan getting up from his perch on the couch to greet you. Tail wagging and all. As tense as you were, this wasn’t his fault. So you did offer him a quiet “Hi,” and an ear scratch. Maybe too so, because you stalled. Not keen at all to be in Joel’s proximity.
Your legs like lead, your steps slow, dragging almost when you finally force yourself to move towards the kitchen, towards him.
“Was thinkin’ we could do your favourite,” he offered, voice still in that same smooth tenor it had been in since you came to, to him watching you and your stomach lurched again. “Gon’ add some veggies, yeah? Makin’ it a bit more balanced. “
You nodded, mechanically. Not trusting your voice and terrified that you would throw up again if you opened your mouth. You didn’t step any closer either, to see what he was doing, what ingredients he was adding. Too occupied with the knife he had pulled from the block.
Long and sharp.
A weapon, if you got your hands on it.
But side stepping him to make a grab for it, was no option. He would stop you in an instant. Maybe tonight. When he slept—- provided he didn’t lock the bedroom door. Just because you couldn’t lock it, didn’t mean that he couldn’t.
At the least he didn’t force you into any conversation, but you knew, that even if he was stirring in pots and pans, his attention was still on you. On the way you stood there, a good chunk behind him.
He got two plates, two glasses and for a moment you feared he’d set at the breakfast bar, forcing you to sit beside him, but he went for the dining table. Opposite one another. But still too fucking close.
You weren’t hungry. Your stomach still queasy and so full with fear and unease that you only picked at your food. Pushing it around on the plate instead of eating. Joel on the other hand, ate. Not saying anything at first. Perhaps assuming that you weren’t eating because you were fearing he had tempered with the food after all.
Which you did. But that was beside the point.
“I said eat!” He snapped eventually, when you hadn’t followed his three earlier requests, fist slamming down hard enough to rattle both plates and glasses.
You flinched, tears immediately pricking your eyes. The fragile bravado you had managed to paint onto yourself before coming down here, shattering immediately.
“No, no,” he was on his feet and for a moment you feared he would walk around the table to comfort you, but instead he headed for the pantry. “‘m sorry babygirl,” he breathed, placing a granola bar in front of you. The kind you always had in your bag for food emergencies. “Didn’t mean—- know all o’this issa lot for you.” You eyed the sealed bar, tears still blurring your vision. “’s okay. Shoulda remembered t’start slow.”
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You hadn’t managed more than a few bites of the granola bar. More nibbling away than eating, but he hadn’t forced you to eat more. Joel hadn’t insisted you linger downstairs and near him either. So you’d slipped away and upstairs into your room, a small tin of cat food — the same fucking brand you bought —in one hand and carrying Pepper in the other.
Like hell would you let her roam the house of this lunatic if you weren’t around.
You had no means to track the time. No clock, no phone, no remotes for the TV. He must have taken them to prevent you from watching the news and like that figure out where you were. You’d tried turning it on manually, but no chance.
So you’d no idea how long you’d been unconscious for, let alone how late it was. Sure it was dark out now, but what did that give you? Without knowing where you were, you couldn’t assume when the sun set.
You retreated to the bathroom regardless. The only lockable room. Even if it was easily unlocked from the outside. It was something at least. An illusion of safety.
Pepper by your side, the damn hairbrush that looked so much like your own but was brand new stuffed into the front pocket of your hoodie. The one he had—- packed. So you had something to at least attempt to protect yourself with. Should he decide he wanted your company after all.
But Joel didn’t come. You don’t know how long you sat there, leaning against the wall, knees tucked into your chest, until you heard what sounded like another knock against the bedroom door. Followed by a “Night babygirl. Tomorrow’ll be better. I promise.”
You didn’t respond. You quietly count in your head what you hope to be seconds. Waiting for what you hoped was an hour, before you got up. “I’ll be right back, Pepper,” you whispered into the quiet of the room before braving first the bedroom and then trying to open the door.
The house laid in darkness safe for a dim light at the bottom of the stairs. Good. You were just about to hold your breath and sneak downstairs, praying that the floorboards wouldn’t creek, when a noise from the end off the hallway drew your attention.
Joel’s bedroom. He’d told you it was back there.
The door was ajar. Not just ajar. Open. Wide enough that, the longer you stared, the more you could make out of the room.
Titan’s dog bed, a dark lump curled up atop it, a bed, sheets—-
Your stomach twisted, and you had to fight every instinct in you that screamed to slam the door and hide in an effort to remain quiet and disappear back into the faux security of the bathroom.
That much for that.