How to Fall in Love (77 page)

“I. Did. Not. Steal. You.”

His voice comes out like ice, and it’s clipped.

“Then give us back our memories.”

He makes a growling, throaty sound. “Did you ever think I was keeping those memories for a reason?”

“And what reason could that possibly be?” I demand.

“You’re not ready to process them. I’m trying to make you stronger, trying to build you up before I let you deal with something like that.”

“That’s a poor excuse that’s used by a man with a sick fetish. You tell yourself whatever you need to, William, but we all know what you are!”

“And what is that?” he hisses.

“A
freak.”

The room falls deadly silent. I realize I’m crying heavily now. I swipe the tears from my eyes as I wait to see what he’s going to do. The room becomes eerily still, and I hear nothing for the longest moment. Then I feel him move closer to me. His warm breath comes down to my ear, and I flinch, jerking my head away.

“That was a mistake.”

He takes hold of my arm, and hurls me up from the bed. He tugs me towards the door. He swings it open, and drags me with force out the door and down the halls. I can only see his back, and his dark hair swishing around his shoulders. He yanks me towards the basement, and I dig my heels in. No, he can’t send me down there. I just lost a friend; he can’t do this to me.

“Let me go,” I cry. “Don’t you hurt me the way you hurt her.”

He doesn’t answer, nor does my struggling stop him from pulling me along. He opens the basement door, and we step down. It’s dark down here, but has a faint light that’s enough for him to see what he’s doing. He throws me onto the ground, and yanks my hands up, shackling them to the wall above my head. I try to kick out at him, but he’s too quick. He’s on his feet before my foot even gets close to hitting him.

“All I am trying to do is...”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I shriek. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. You’re a monster.”

I feel something move fast, and then his hand is pressed over my mouth. Hard. I cry harder, and clench my eyes tightly shut.

“Instead of screaming me at every chance you have, maybe you will stop and realize what I’m doing here. I did not steal you girls; I
saved
you. I took you all out of a hard, painful life and I put you in my care. All I ask for is respect. This is my home, and I control what goes on here. If you understood that and just listened, things would go as they needed. Number Three was damaged. She was fragile in the mind, and her life before this was less than desirable. Her mind was scarred; it didn’t matter how much I took from her. Very soon you will learn that if you want my respect, and my kindness, then you will do the right thing. What you did in there was disrespectful, and the act of a bully. I
despise
bullies. Now, you will be punished for it.”

He lets my mouth go and stands, exiting the room before I can say anything.

What is there to say?

He just rocked my world, and I don’t quite know how to process that.

I
’m thirsty.

My throat is dry, and it hurts.

I’ve been down here for twelve hours, and no one has come down to see me. I’ve cried so much my body is beyond dehydrated. It aches, and my heart constantly hurts. All I can think about is Number Three. Her life was cut short before she had the chance to remember who she was. No one deserves that.

I want to hate William for it, but if what he says is true, how can I?

It still doesn’t explain
why
he has us. Why would anyone want to save thirteen girls? Why not two, or twenty? There are so many broken people in the world, so why did he pick us? Why were we good enough to try and fix? My entire body aches, and my heart is jumping around in my chest to a point where it actually hurts.

None of this makes sense.

Every time I close my eyes I see Number Three launching herself off that roof. I remember her words just before she turned and let herself soar. “I want to be free.”

She looked like a falling angel as she so gracefully took her own life.

Just thinking of it has a pained cry escaping my lips. I thrash my head from side to side, wanting the image to just leave me alone. I don’t want it there. My body begins to shake as I let the reality of this entire situation sink in.

“I don’t like doing this.”

I snap my head up, not having heard anyone enter. I see William in the shadows. He walks closer, and but in the darkness I can’t see him properly. I turn my eyes away anyway, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to see the man who is bringing too much pain to my life. He walks over and kneels in front of me, then he pulls something out of his pocket, I lift my eyes enough to see it’s a gag. I gasp, and push myself backwards, only to collide with the wall behind me.

“Don’t, please.”

He takes my head gently, leaning in close. I shake my head from side to side, angry tears cascading down my cheeks. This close I can see he’s got a patch covering his eye. Why is he wearing that? Is there something wrong with his face?

“I’m sorry, Number Thirteen. I do wish you would just understand that if you gave me a chance, this wouldn’t happen. You will go another twelve hours with this in your mouth, and perhaps by the time I take it out, you will stop running your mouth off and begin doing the right thing.”

He reaches up, taking my chin. I jerk my head out of his grips, still sobbing like a small, broken child. He strokes a tear from my cheek, and then leans down, so close his lips are nearly touching mine. “I’m not here to hurt you,
frumusețe
. I just want you to learn.”

I shake my head, but he’s got too firm a grip on my chin. He leans down closer, and I can smell him. He smells masculine, with a hint of red wine. I stare at his lips, watching as he slowly licks his lower one. I feel that right down to my belly, and warmth floods over me. I hate him, I hate...

His lips press against mine.

And for a moment, I stop feeling.

Everything seems to come to a standstill as his mouth covers mine, warming my insides, easing the burning in my heart. I open my mouth and gasp as he slides his tongue out and traces my lips with it. My entire body comes to life, hating that the feeling I’m having right now isn’t one of despair, but one of lust. He’s getting to me. He’s breaking through my wall.

He pulls back, and I realize I’m panting. Big puffs of air escape my slightly parted lips as I stare at his devastating face. He strokes my cheek once more, then he lifts the gag and gently places it in my mouth. The feeling of having something restricting the ability to speak, hell, to even breath properly, is terrifying. My entire body stiffens, and I make a pained sound in my throat.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, standing and disappearing into the darkness.

I kick out in my chains, and the saltiness of my tears burns my eyes.

I hate him. God. I do.

But part of me...just a tiny part...is warming towards him.

I
won’t give in.

I won’t cry out.

I won’t let him see he’s winning. I’m stronger than this. This won’t change my passion; this won’t change my determination. What he’s doing here is wrong, no matter how many times he tries to tell himself he’s doing us all a favor. He’s not—no, he’s being cruel and heartless. One silly little kiss won’t change my mind about that. I won’t let it. I won’t let him corrupt my mind.

I won’t.

FOUR HOURS LATER

It hurts.

My entire jaw is throbbing, and I’ve run out of tears.

He’s wearing me down. He knows leaving me in here for twelve hours is enough to send me over the edge. I hate not being able to speak. I don’t like my rights being taken away from me more than they already have. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much I want to curl up and give in—I won’t.

No, he won’t win.

SIX HOURS LATER

Everything aches.

My back, my body, my legs, my head, hell—my mouth.

I managed to find a few more tears, and I let them go freely. There’s no point in holding them back. I know he’s watching me; I want him to see what he’s doing. I want him to see that I might cry, and I might seem weak, but I’m not giving in. I’m not opening that last part of myself up. I’m not going to give in to him.

I can’t stop thinking about his lips on mine.

I want to, but I can’t.

EIGHT HOURS LATER

I thrash and squirm, yanking my chains and screaming, even though the sound isn’t loud because it can’t break through my gag. I shove my legs forwards and backwards over and over, twisting my body, and growling with a deep, angry frustration that is consuming my body. I can’t let him beat me on this. I can’t let myself turn into...her...Number Three.

He won’t win this lesson. He won’t.

God, he won’t.

TEN HOURS LATER

I hang my head, staring at my crossed legs. I can’t feel them anymore, and I don’t even care. What’s the point in fighting when there’s nothing left to fight for. If I had listened from the start, instead of thinking about myself, then I could have saved Number Three. I was so wrapped up in escape, and look where that got me.

I’m here, gagged.

She’s dead.

TWELVE HOURS LATER

My fight is gone.

It’s been gone for hours now.

Instead, it’s replaced with shame and hatred. Not a hatred for him, but a hatred for myself. This is my fault. If I had behaved and just did as he asked, none of this would have ever happened. I should have listened; hell, if I’d followed the rules we might all be getting rewarded now. Instead, I have a dead friend and I’m here, helpless, my spirit crushed.

My plan was a fail.

I’m a failure.

~*~*~*~

S
he’s broken.

There’s a moment when a person gives in, and their face changes. Her determined glare is now replaced with an empty look of resolve. It’s not where I wanted her to be, but I can work with her now. I can show her that giving in will only work in her favor.

If she would just let me in, I could show her that she can trust me.

“Sir?”

I swing my office chair around, tearing my eyes off Number Thirteen on the camera. George is standing at my door with a phone in his hand.

“It’s Ben.”

I nod, and extend my hand. He walks in, dropping the phone into my palm. I cover the mouthpiece and murmur, “Get her out and back to her room, now.”

George nods, and leaves the room. I press the phone to my ear, leaning back in my chair and tapping my finger on my keyboard to bring my computer to life.

“Ben.”

“Been trying to get hold of you for over a day now, Will. Where have you been?”

“Busy.”

He makes a growling sound. “Don’t give me one-word answers, brother. We’re past that. What went down at your house? I heard there were cops everywhere?”

“One of my servants jumped from the roof.”

“What?” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t know she was depressed. Turns out she had come from the streets. The cops said she didn’t even have a family.”

It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know what I’m doing here. He’d never understand. It took a lot of careful planning to get past the cops. They came close to finding out what I am doing here. I can’t let that happen again.

“That’s horrible. I’m sorry, man.”

I shrug, even though he can’t see it.

“She was unhappy; there was nothing anyone could have done.”

I wish that were true. I shove aside the pain that invades my chest at the thought.

“I’m still sorry, all the same. Listen, I called because it’s Dad’s birthday in less than three weeks.”

“And?” I mutter, feeling my body stiffen.

“Come on, Will. I know you hate him, but what about Momma?”

Momma.
My chest clenches as I think of the frail, broken woman that used to be my mother. She’s not now. She’s just a hollow shell. I feel a certain level of guilt about that, even though I shouldn’t. It’s not my fault this happened, no matter how much my father thinks it is.

“Momma wouldn’t even know,” I say in a dry voice.

“You haven’t been to see her for months, Will. You know she adores you. I’m going to organize a dinner. I’m giving you this now, in advance, because you’re going to come.”

“Am I?” I snap. “Since when do you decide what I do and do not do?”

“Since you can’t pull your head out of your fucking ass. Now, we’re going to have a dinner, you decide where. I’m sure for one night, you can smile long enough to ease some of the pain in your mother’s heart.”

Ouch.

“Fine, Benjamin,” I grunt. “You organize it for here.”

“You’re having us over to your house?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, I’ll let them know. Don’t let me down, Will. I know Dad is an asshole, and I know why you hate him, but Momma doesn’t deserve to pay for his behavior.”

“I know, Ben,” I say, sighing in defeat. “I agreed, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did. Listen, I have another question.”

I make a rumbling sound in my chest. “Haven’t you asked enough for one day?”

He chuckles. “It’s just a question, brother.”

“Fine, let me have it.”

“The girl that works for you, what’s her name?”

I feel my body tingle, and then stiffen. “Which one?” I grind out.

“The tiny one. Blond hair, eyes that make you want to melt on the spot, sweet spoken?”

He’s talking about her.
Number Thirteen
. I stare up at the cameras, and I see she’s been returned to her room. She’s sitting on her bed, staring out her window. Her long blond hair is falling over her shoulders. Hell, sometimes it looks like there’s more hair then there is her...she’s so small.

“What do you want to know her name for?”

He’s silent for a minute. “She’s sweet. I wanted to take her out.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Why not?” he snaps. “Has she got a man?”

“Yes,” I almost spit. “She does.”

“All the good ones are taken,” he grumbles. “Well, can I at least know her name?”