Breathless (6 page)

We stood in silence, I had been staring at the snow, hearing my escape plan crumbling around me. You stood tall, shoulders back beaming with pride – I assumed it was at my defeat and inevitable demise.

“Don’t be so solemn, don’t analyze everything until it barely exists. Just live,” you whispered in my ear, your breath warming the frost that was trying to form.

We walked back through the living room; my eyes had darted in every direction as I searched for something. I didn’t know what I had hoped to find, but I’d know it when I found it. You pulled me back down the hall. I stopped at the first door and you allowed me to pause. My hand ran slowly down the smooth wooden door.

“My room,” you said, and pushed the door open easily.

Inside, my eyes had seen a simple cot and nothing else. No dresser to keep clothes, no night stand beside to hold your personal things – just a simple cot with a simple white blanket on it. Yet again, a simple wood-burning stove was all that was used for warmth and that realization that there had probably been no other heat source in the whole house sent shivers down my spine.

The door closed and you pulled me to the next door. You paused, your eyes scanned my face looking for a sign of something I wasn’t sure you saw.

“We’ll wait on the tour of this room.” You spoke lightly.

You tried to walk again but I pulled against your grip and refused to move until you stopped hiding things from me.

“I’m not a child, I’m not so easily broken. If you want me to trust you then you have to start being honest with me, tell me things.”

You nodded and pulled a key from your pocket to unlock the door. It was another bedroom, but this one was more filled – more real. The bed was directly across from the door and had large posts on each corner that curved up to meet directly in the middle. A large dresser and even a rug decorating the floor had also caught my eye.

“Go ahead,” you said as I started to take a step into the room but paused.

I moved to the dresser and slowly opened the top drawer. Inside were white cotton panties, the same as what I’d been wearing. I frantically closed the drawer and opened the next, more clothes – the same pants that time. The next held men’s clothes, exactly like you’d been wearing – jeans, white shirts, boxers.

Looking back at you, I could see the concern on your face. You opened your mouth to speak but closed it back without uttering a word. I moved toward the bed, everything looked new, fresh. No one had slept on this bed, I knew it, deep in my bones knew it had been unmarred.

“One day this will be our room, when you are ready and not a minute before.”

I shook my head. “No!” I yelled at you.

You didn’t say anything, you simply dipped your head and stared at the soft rug that took up the space between us.

“My parents will look for me.”

You nodded.

“They have money, they know people. They won’t give up until they find me.”

You nodded again, still not looking up to meet my eyes.

“No matter how careful you were someone had to see you, I saw you every day, always near me at work, someone else had to see you, too.”

“Yes, I’m sure they did.”

“Someone had to think it was strange, they’ll tell the police when they know I’m gone, they’ll link it back to you.”

“I’m no one, Annabel, there is nothing for them to find. I do not exist; I never have.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, but you didn’t hear me, your thoughts were a constant stream and I saw them swirl behind your eyes.

“I’ve never lived anywhere but this house and that mall. They can look, but they will never find anything, there is no one to find. Here I’m Cage, and there I was no one. I had one task, to find you and bring you home. I did that and we’ll never need to leave home again.”

“No matter who you are, someone had to see you forcing me to go with you. My parents will be on TV talking to anyone who will listen, someone saw you and they will find me,” I demanded, as the realization that you’d always intended this to be my world came crashing down around me. This house, you, me – you’d had it all planned out.

“Not likely.” You’d shrugged and taken two steps toward me. “Not a single soul saw us talking that night and there was nothing to see any time before that, I made sure of it. What but a few smiles back and forth that only we knew about – nothing for others to see.”

“They had to see you steal me away.”

You laughed and the sound was like acid to my ears. “I didn’t steal you away, sweetheart, you willingly came. You walked to that car and you eagerly climbed in. Then I hid you away so no one could see you, covered you as you slept and brought you home.”

My chest tightened and my throat had begun to close. I envisioned myself then, my body crumpled from the drugs, curled into itself seeking comfort and safety as you carted me away like something you owned, possessed. It was like an intense after school special, only it was me that I saw in the dead eyes staring back, my body being taken by the scary man that lurked just outside the shadows.

“There was nothing suspicious about you. We took a train and you leaned on me, curled into me for protection from the cold. I stroked your hair and you practically purred at me for more.”

Flashes of what you described flew through my mind. I could hear the train and smell your honey scent mixed with the smell of the train fumes. Women watched us as we climbed the stairs to board and smiled at what they saw, a young couple in love. Your voice echoed to them, “She’s just had a little too much to drink, we’re celebrating.”

They believed you and congratulated us. My body leaned into you, my curves fitting perfectly along yours. Your warmth pulling me closer, holding me captive. I felt your hot lips touch my cheek; the smell of honey burnt my nostrils but I still sloped into your kiss. It brought me comfort in my darkness, a beacon in the unknown. My unconscious was drawn to you.

“You remember,” you stated confidently. “I hoped you would, I hoped you’d remember that we grew close.”

“I hate you,” I muttered.

You moved so close that I felt the heat from your body invading mine, you felt like a furnace that had been left on high for too long. Your eyes burned intensely and reminded me of the night you took me, the same look of longing mixed with a knowing that I didn’t understand. I’d fallen for that look, I’d longed for that look from you then.

Your hand touched my face. “I know it’s hard for your mind to grasp right now, but you need me. Maybe even more than I need you. I brought a light back into your soul, I could see it. It flamed from the first moment you saw me, and if you’ll trust me it can burn even brighter.”

“No I don’t want to be here, I don’t want you.” My head spun and whirled with fear and regret. I wondered if I’d helped cause this, had I made it too easy for you to steal me away. I regretted every look, every glance I’d ever shared with you and longed to take them all back.

“You wanted to come here, you told me that yourself. Those exact words came from your mouth; I wouldn’t have brought you if you didn’t tell me that. You longed for me like I longed for you and then you told me. I brought you here to make you happy, you will be happy.” You calmly tried to convince me.

“I hate you!” I screamed in your face.

I felt the sharp burn of your hand connecting with the side of my face and the rush as I fell back onto the bed. But my mind didn’t immediately register that you’d hit me. That realization slowly came as you climbed on top of me and held me down. My body flat against the bed, your arms holding mine down, your knees bent by my side.

“Remember, the easy way or the hard way.”

My jaw clenched as I drew out the words, “I. Hate. You.”

“That’ll change,” you declared, your head rested in the crook of my neck as you calmly inhaled and slowly exhaled. Then you traced your mouth up until you placed a single kiss just under my eye.

Canvas for life

Back in the white room, my
room for now
you called it. But this wasn’t my room and I refused to consider that it ever would be. Anywhere that you were would never be my home. It had almost been tempting, to lose myself with someone that was already lost, but in the end that wasn’t my reality.

My face still stung from the impact of your hand and my legs ached where your body had held me down. Every inch of me was raw with hurt and mental exhaustion. After I screamed at you over and over how much I hated you, you simply drug me down the hall and threw me back into this room. The sound of the lock clanging behind me had been a clear indication of your displeasure, but all it did was fuel my hate more.

Your actions were off; you’d wanted to make me care for you with the ultimate goal of making me love you. But everything you did only made me hate you more, only made me work harder to get away from you.

Time passed slowly while I did nothing but stare at the blank walls thinking, my mind rambled from one idea to the next never locating one worthy of landing on. Not thinking about my pitiful situation, but instead devising a plan to remove myself from you. My stomach churned with hunger but I had no reason to believe I’d see food soon; instead, I filled my emptiness with my hate. Hatred can fuel you, in the absence of real nourishment the right amount of hate can sustain you.

I considered what my escape would be – an escape from this house, from you, or an escape from life itself. I longed to live, but I refused to allow you to be the source of my navigation through it. If I was going to remain, I would be in charge of my own path, not you.

Visions of how I might escape ran through my head. I lacked the strength to bulldoze my way past you, I wasn’t skilled enough to fight with my bare hands, but I might have been smart enough to trick my way out of this house. But in order to do that, I would have had to make you trust me. I had to find a way to earn your trust or I’d never see freedom again.

I knew you were always watching me. Even when I couldn’t see or feel you there, I knew you always were. I had to pretend to be content – happy with this place you had brought me. I knew I could do that, I could place a façade of happiness around myself just long enough to fool you.

I remembered the black soot that I’d marred the walls with. It was still there, calling out to me as a break from my scrutiny of everything. I had analyzed everything to the point that it barely existed anymore.

I grasped one large piece of burnt wood and rolled it around in my hand, coating my light skin with its blackness. When I pressed my palm against the cold, white wall it left a perfect imprint. The lines and curves of my fingerprints were more prominent than if I’d used ink.

I held the skinny piece of wood in my fingers like a large pencil and made one straight line down the wall. The black, a sharp contrast to the stark white, caused me to smile. Art had never been an interest for me, but that was before I had nothing but four blank walls to stare at.

I whirled and arched the wood across the wall until the entire section next to the stove was covered. No longer white, now it had become my canvas for sanity. I had thought about trying to draw my parents with smiles on their faces to keep me company, but I refused to let you see what gave me the last glimmer of hope.

Instead, I drew what restrained me, this room. But instead of what my eyes saw, I drew it how it should be. I started with a huge picture window across from the bed. The moon cast beams inside that reflected across the floor and circled around the room. I’d lost track of all the stars shining brightly in the sky. The slopes of the shadows that danced across the moon were all visible in my mind. The wood panels made the perfect shape of a cross as they held the window panes in place. A deep brown curtain hung across the top and was just dark enough to block out a small amount of moonlight. I’d drawn it all, on that stark white wall.

Then I had begun to work on the bed. I didn’t draw the posts at the end that I’d been tied to, instead I merely sketched the slope of the edge covered with a beautiful blanket draping over the end. It was covered with huge, swirling flowers that bunched together and laid over one another. I’d seen it once when I was working at the mall, I had been saving up my paycheck to hopefully buy it for myself at the end of summer. But of course, I never got the chance to do that. So I would own it now, it would be nothing more than a black and white drawing on the wall – but it would be mine nonetheless.

I stepped back to admire my work. Wiping my arm across my damp forehead, I’d felt the black soot stain my skin and liked the way it marred me. Not unclean, but labored purpose. I knew exactly what needed to be drawn next – me. Not me how I was at that very moment, but the me that would be free from my cage.

I drew the shape of a simple body sitting on the bed. Then looping the black lines I elongated strands of hair well past my shoulders, not stopping where I knew it currently did, finally trailing off in the middle of my back. Long wispy curls that seemed to almost caress the bare skin beneath.

That’s when I heard your footsteps nearing the door. I dropped the burnt wood and moved quickly back to the bed not removing my eyes from the door the entire time. Slipping under the covers, I pulled them up, tucking them under my chin and holding them as securely as if my life depended on it.

The door slowly creaked open and I clenched my eyes shut, not wanting to see your face. Not ready to see your face after you struck me. Even though I didn’t want you to know you scared me in that moment – frightened me more than I had been since I woke up with you near.

Opening my eyes, I saw your gaze trained on my half-completed drawing. A small smile stretched across your face as you turned to me.

“You don’t have to stop because of me, go ahead keep drawing,” you told me.

I didn’t speak or move.

“It’s very good,” you said. “I didn’t know you could draw.”

“I can’t,” I whispered.

“You can,” you declared. “I see the proof before my eyes.”

“Not very well,” I informed you.

“You can, but you will get even better if you keep after it.”

You smiled at me, and even though it was the same smile I’d seen on your face from the first instant I saw you, it was different – off and distorted. It wasn’t you though, it was me, the way I saw you had changed. You were no longer the handsome man that I’d wanted to impress; you were the man marred by ugliness that I wanted to escape.