Captive (Social Experiments #1) (6 page)

Yvonne sniffled and wiped her eyes, careful of her makeup. She avoided looking at me, no doubt ashamed for her ill-thought words. “Sorry. That wasn’t fair of me. I’m just worried and all. He’s supposed to be here. We were supposed to graduate together. Everything was supposed to be perfect.”

“Forget it. It’s fine,” I lied through my teeth, moving away from her. “Look, I see your folks’ car.”

I made a poor effort to comfort her, too embittered by her infatuation with a man undeserving of her love. How could I taste her lips and feel her body responding ardently beneath my hands, and then return to the role of the platonic friend? I couldn’t.

It didn’t matter that I was there to support her on her big day. She spent most of the night checking her phone for texts from Greg, even when the graduation ended and we changed venues to meet at her graduate nurse pinning ceremony. Afterward, I approached to congratulate her for a job well done, and she hugged me awkwardly like I was the creepy uncle she feared touching with her tits.

Once the big event wound down, her father invited me to fill in Greg’s spot in their dinner party. I tried to politely refuse and head home, but her mother insisted. No one says no to Marie Mitchell.

Yvonne picked at her dinner and remained quiet. Her parents tried to lure her into conversation but her stony silence unnerved them until they interrogated me instead. I knew it was coming from the moment Yvonne excused herself to the restroom to check her make up. She was wise to conceal her bruised face. If I hadn’t killed Greg, her father would have.

“Tell us what happened, Jacob.”

“I don’t really know what to tell you,” I said. I couldn’t lie to Mrs. Mitchell; she knew me too well. I decided to skirt the truth instead.

“I’ve never seen Yvonne so upset. Not since she lost the chance to become Prom Queen,” her father said, shaking his head.

“I know you, and I know when you’re hiding something. What is going on with Greg and Yvonne?” her mother insisted. Her worried gaze broke through my conscience.

“She and Greg had a fight. Now nobody knows where he’s gone. That’s really all I know.”

“Such a shame you two-”

“Marie,” her husband interjected in a quiet voice. He never had much of a spine, but he was a nice guy who took care of his family. As a bank manager with a large salary and a lot of successful investments, he guaranteed his daughter’s needs were always met. Likewise, Marie wanted for nothing.

“Oh, you know you’ve said the same. But fine. I just hope she’ll get over it soon. He was too young for her anyways.”

“Sweetheart, you know Yvonne is stubborn. She never goes for the guys you try to set her up with.”

“She’s a spoiled little bitch,” Marie snapped bluntly. “All those lessons and what has she done with them? Nothing. Did you know she rode horseback? Yvonne was a beautiful rider.” James gently attempted to remove the wine glass from Marie’s hands, but she curled her fingers tightly around the stem.

I did remember but the topic of conversation made me want to squirm in my seat. Marie didn’t wait for me to answer.

“Of course you do, you came to some of her shows. Such a good friend. You dropped all that weight and now look at you.” She beamed at me. “You’re quite the grown man now, Jacob.”

“Now Marie, let’s not put Jake on the spot.”

“And handsome, too. Greg looks like a bulldog someone’s molded into a man.” She sniffed disdainfully.

Seriously, how long did it take for a woman to pee and powder her nose? I wanted Yvonne to come back so the attention would shift away from me again.

Marie reclaimed her wine while her husband looked on in defeated resignation. “Don’t you think he looks like a pug-nosed mutt, Jacob?” she asked me. Loudly.

“Er, well…”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be shy.”

“Marie-”

“Oh shut it, James. I’m only asking the man his opinion. Nothing criminal about that.”

Several eyes turned our way and I felt hot beneath my collar. The Mitchells argued in not so very hushed tones while I wished I had ordered that drink they offered. I took a long swallow from my soda instead.

Yvonne’s return heralded a swift change in topic, not that she contributed much to the conversation. Her mother baited her again until I intervened by distracting her. After dinner, her parents dropped us off and Yvonne headed inside ahead of me.

“Hey, Jake?”

“Yes, Mr. Mitchell?” I paused on the walkway and turned to face their parked car. It idled alongside the curb, engine running. Marie dozed in the passenger seat.

“Yvonne didn’t stiff you on the rent again, did she?”

I waited a heartbeat too long to deny it. “N-no.”

“I thought that might be the case,” Mr. Mitchell muttered. He fished out his wallet.

As usual, I protested and held out both hands to ward off his money. “Honest, she gave me rent money this month.” Half of it, but who’s counting?

“I know my daughter. We tried our best with her, but Yvonne’s always... Well. Never mind that. You take this and consider it next month’s rent, okay?”

My pride and dignity resisted the crisp hundred dollar bills, but my ailing bank account accepted the wad of dough. He gave more than I requested from her, and he knew that. I took the money and shoved it into my pocket without counting it. James waved goodbye and pulled the black Tahoe away from the curb.

As unappreciative as ever, Yvonne spent the remaining hours sobbing in her bedroom upstairs after her parents paid her rent for the summer.

I knew right then that things had to change.

Yvonne had to change.

Chapter 5

My graduation took place a few days after Yvonne’s. I’m not on good terms with any of my surviving family members. My uncle, his wife, and a couple of my cousins hate me for inheriting the property they coveted. My grandparents were around to see me graduate the first time at least.

I didn’t have to accept my diploma without support. In lieu of family, I had good friends. Yvonne accompanied the guys in the audience, but her heart wasn’t in it. She greeted me after the ceremony with another awkward hug and headed out with one of her girlfriends. Once she was gone, I was dragged off by Harrison, Bobby, Rodney, and Kirk.

To be honest, I don’t recall much of the two nights away. It was a blur of gambling at the casino, drinking at the clubs, and tucking dollar bills in sweaty thongs at the strip clubs. My wallet was a lot lighter when I returned home, but I had a good time.

Harrison dropped me off and I trudged inside, ready to sleep off a wicked hangover and recover. A plastic wrapped plate of my favorite turtle blondie brownies sat on my dresser, with a crayon drawing of a dinosaur in a cap and gown taped to the top; a graduation gift from Ms. James and Sam. I greedily devoured three before passing out fully dressed on my bed.

It was noon the next day before I dragged myself from the bed and showered. I cleaned up the mess in the kitchen out of habit and heated up a frozen dinner in the microwave for my lunch. Yvonne ambled down to ask about my weekend but the conversation was stilted. She continuously checked her phone, waiting for any word from Greg. Eventually she excused herself and returned upstairs with a drink and chips.

She moped around the apartment for a week without any signs of improvement. Most of the time, I avoided her while the estrangement between us grew. On occasion when I dared to visit her floor, I always found her wearing pajamas and annihilating a bag of Doritos on the couch.

To avoid worsening our situation, I took extra hours at work over the week and handled several repair jobs on the waitlist for the apartments. I thought our friendship could benefit from the time away from each other. Hell, I thought the distance and nights of debauchery would change my mind about the dumb plan forming in my head.

It didn’t.

My resolve strengthened, empowered by my vanishing sympathy for Yvonne’s situation. What girl in her right mind pined after a guy who slapped her around and spent the rest of his night getting head?

I guess that made us two of a kind, since I’d pined after her for ten long years.

It took me several days to prepare the sub-basement for my plans, and then I only needed to check a final item off my supply list.

During my mid-shift break, I lifted a syringe and a single dose of Ketamine from the animal clinic at the back of the pet store. No one batted an eyelash at my presence there, too used to seeing me around. I slipped my ill-gained goods in my pocket and carried on like normal.

By the end of shift, I’d sweated until my shirt clung against my body. If someone witnessed my criminal act, they chose not to confront me for it. I drove home shaking and afraid, with a load of canine goods in the bed of the pickup. As an employee I received a nice discount. My coworkers asked me if I was getting a dog. I lied and claimed they were birthday gifts for Yvonne, who often mentioned wanting a Yorkshire terrier.

Getting everything inside and downstairs without being seen was tricky, but luck must have been with me. I set everything up in the hidden room and made it upstairs before Yvonne returned home from a visit to the salon. She passed on dinner, claiming she’d eaten sushi while she was out. After flashing me a wan smile, she headed up to bed. I finished leftovers and told myself this was my last chance to ditch my plans.

But things needed to change. They
had
to.

I lacked Yvonne’s medical training, so I Googled the necessary information about the medicine. A website warned me that an intramuscular shot may require as long as three minutes to take effect. Three minutes of struggling with a terrified girl. Three minutes for anything to go wrong. With one trembling hand, I approached the bed with the syringe in hand. I tested the plunger quickly, squirting a few drops from the tip. Perfect.

She lay amidst the tangled bed sheets in a thin tank and small shorts. I chose the outside of the left thigh and jabbed her quickly. The needle slid easily into her skin. Initially, I feared miscalculating the amount of sedative to deliver, until she awakened like a hellcat, kicking, screaming, and slapping at me hysterically. I quickly secured her arms and pinned her to the bed, my strength against her adrenaline-fueled terror. I cupped the other hand over her mouth, too conscious of interrupting Miss James’ sleep. She slept in the bedroom positioned above Yvonne’s bed.

“Shhh, baby, shhh. It’s all going to be fine.”

Her struggles roused my desires. My cock swelled as she writhed beneath me. Her tiny shorts barely covered anything, and her body heat radiated through the thin material. Eventually, her wide open eyes began to drift shut and the struggle dwindled to nothing.

***

I sat cross-legged on the floor, nursing a frosty beer from the mini-fridge while I waited for Yvonne to awaken from drugged slumber. In the year since I made my historic discovery, I’d considered making the room a legitimate sublevel basement. Over winter break, I ran electricity and used my amateur’s knowledge of plumbing to lay pipe. Gramps had taught me well, sharing seventy years of contractor’s experience to prepare me as his successor. He wanted me to know how to perform basic maintenance in the building.

An ordinary, inexpensive sink provided fresh running water, and a shower nozzle pointed down from the ceiling in the room’s corner. It wasn’t a beautiful room, but a year ago I never suspected I would be using it for this purpose.

The cramped dog kennel didn’t let her stretch but provided ample room to sit up. I’d purchased the thickest and softest dog bed I could afford. The blankets came second hand from garage sales I’d passed over the weekend. A heavy duty lock secured her makeshift accommodations. I kept the key in the room, hung on a nail.

Yvonne stirred.

My gut flopped with indecision. If I wanted, I could still back out and release her from confinement. It wasn’t too late to change the regrettable path our friendship had taken, but things would never be the same. Yvonne needed to be shown the consequences of her foolish actions.

For years, Yvonne has allowed one man after the next to dictate her life, use her, discard her, and abuse her. No more.  She’d never learn her own worth if I continued to enable her, so I’ll break her down again and rebuild her by force if I must. I have the training to accomplish this. Three years as an obedience instructor, a degree in human psychology, and pure love are the perfect tools.

The dark lashes framing her bright green eyes fluttered slowly and eventually opened. I counted the seconds in my head, sitting on pins and needle all the while.

Yvonne tried to speak around the obtrusive orange ball in her mouth. It stretched her lips taut over its shiny surface and prevented anything more than a muffled protest. Her head groggily thumped against the padded cage bottom again.

“It’s for your own good,” I told her quietly. “I know you hate me now, Yvonne, but trust me. Everything I have planned is for your own good.”

Tears shimmered against her cheeks. Weak cries of protest and condemnation continued without reaching through the layers of soil and concrete above us. She probably would have mumbled every dirty name in the book. That’ll change.