The Good Girl (4 page)

I was leading her to my car when she finally pulled me back. “My friend. I can’t leave her.”

“She’ll be fine.” I continued to pull her forward not losing a beat in my step in reaction to her protest.

Her strength was no match to mine. Pushing forward, I could feel the pulse in her fingers and I know her heart was racing in her chest. She looked between me and the bar, becoming hesitant about leaving with me. However, when the man who attacked her on the dance floor suddenly appeared on the street, her decision was made.

Apparently, I seemed like the safer option.

I wasn’t – but she didn’t know that.

Eventually, we made it to my car and I opened the door to let her inside. She sat in the front passenger seat, allowing me to lean over and lock the seatbelt around her. Looking up at me, she smiled.

Knowing what I was going to do to her made me smile in return.

She’d made a mistake running from the grip of an intoxicated man into the arms of a monster – a mistake that would cost her the rest of her life.

Grabbing her neck suddenly, I squeezed. Her hands reached for mine, her fingernails digging into my skin. Eventually her eyes hazed over and her mouth opened because her lungs had become desperate for air. Within a few minutes, her eyes finally closed and I released her.

She was passed out, she was in my car, and she would never be heard from again.

Chapter Five

~ Eleni ~

Blinking my eyes open, I instantly realized I wasn’t home. Morning light poured in through a window to the right of the large bed and I noticed the bars that adorned the outside. Where the fuck was I? What was the last thing I could remember from the night before? Shit, it was the drunken asshole trying to shove his tongue down my throat. Looking around the lavish room in which I woke, I realized that I really needed to stop drinking so much. I couldn’t remember where I was or how I got there. However, waking up to a strange room wasn’t abnormal for me and I hated the fact that it was becoming a fucking bad habit.

I closed my eyes against the offensive light of day and suddenly I remembered the green-eyed stranger. Even though my body lay atop soft sheets and a comfortable mattress, it was only his rough hands against my heated skin that I could feel on my body. I vaguely remembered a car, but I wasn’t sure.

Whatever. I must have given the guy a good night and I wanted nothing more than to wash the lack of memory from my skin. It was just another ‘good night’ for some random man that I couldn’t even regret because I couldn’t remember a thing about it.

Stretching my arms out, I rolled onto my stomach. God the bed was comfortable. The sheets were lush – silk, I think – but I was unsure because I have never had the luxury of something besides the Wal-Mart negative four hundred thread count variety and a hand me down mattress from The Goodwill.

The room was bright, a mixture of white and black with modern furniture placed artfully throughout. Lights were mounted on the wall in each of the four corners and two black doors sat adjacent to each other in the center of the large wall. Sitting up, I noticed that my body was off balance. I immediately wanted a drink – just one shot to take the edge off.

I looked for my pants, but they were missing. My purse was gone, inside it my money, my phone and most importantly, my flask. I never left home without it and my headache pounded harder from the frustration of it not being within my reach. Shit. Where did I put all of my stuff?

Finally forcing myself up from the mattress, I kicked my legs off the side of the bed and walked around. It is warm in the house and I wondered if the guy actually had the heat on? It was a luxury I skimped on most days and it felt refreshing to walk around in my panties and t-shirt without the headlights beaming and my skin prickling from the cold.

Regardless of my delight in the comfort of the bedroom, I decided to seek out the guy I was pretty sure owned this place to find my flask and get a ride home. I didn’t know exactly where this place was, but it had to be far from the slums where my apartment was located. Judging by the obvious wealth of the person who owned this place, I realized that I had to be at least 10 miles from my place and that was too long a distance for my typical ‘walk of shame.’

In an attempt to escape the walls of this fabulous room, I padded barefoot over and tried the first door. It was locked. My mind wasn’t as ‘awake’ as my body, so the fact that I was stuck in a locked room hadn’t yet breached my comprehension.

I banged on the wood and listened but nobody answered me. Whatever. I shrugged it off and checked the other door. It pushed right open. But, instead of an exit, I found a bathroom. I have to admit, it was absolutely, fucking beautiful - like something out of one of those magazines with extravagant country homes on the front. A large garden bathtub sat in the corner surrounded by candles and fancy bath soaps and bubble baths. On the other side of the room was a double stand up shower, complete with multiple showerheads and the toilet.

Straight ahead of where I stood was a wall of mirrors. Floor to ceiling, I could see my reflection. I scowled as soon as I witnessed the ragged shape I was in. My hair stuck up in all directions, I had makeup smeared down my face and ink had seeped through the bandage covering the new artwork on my leg. I quickly grew concerned that the alcohol had thinned my blood a bit too much the night before and I removed the bandage to inspect. Luckily, I found the image to be perfect, but in need of a good cleaning. Looking around, I noticed a tube of A&D ointment sitting on the counter.

I could have passed it off as coincidence, but if there was one thing I’d learned in my life, it was that there are no such things as coincidences. Ever. Everything that happens is meant to happen for some kind of reason. Do I believe in God? That I am not sure of, but I do know there is some kind of higher power with a plan. I realized that after I tried to hang myself. I remember everything going black as I hung from a small rafter beam in my Grandmother’s house. I thought it would be my end. Hell, I prayed it would be. But eventually I woke up in a hospital bed. On suicide watch. Isn’t that a funny term for someone who was so close to actually taking their own life? Suicide watch? More like suicide failure. But that was a tangent I didn’t need to travel. Being stuck in a strange place is bad enough, being stuck in a strange place while thinking about the worst things you’d done in your life was a whole different story – and I didn’t want to be that story.

Shaking my head in an effort to refocus, my stomach heaved. The lack of alcohol in my system was eating away at my body. I knew that the shakes would start next, and unless someone left me a magical bottle of Jameson somewhere, I could only foresee my situation getting much worse.

I always refused to believe I was an alcoholic – however the detox I suffered when I didn’t have a drink disagreed with my refusal. It was a lose-lose situation. Either I accepted the fact that I couldn’t live without liquor and suffer the bitter understanding that I was nothing more than a drunk – or I fought it and ended up on the floor praying that the detox would just end me.

I had to fight the oncoming shit-storm that the lack of alcohol was causing so I turned the shower on for a quick soak, although the bathtub looked fucking tempting as well. I could spend all day in there.

While washing away my body, my mind wandered to more important matters. I wanted to know what time it was. I knew I needed to get home and study for my finals so I could complete at least one accomplishment in my life. The past semester had been a son of a cunt, but I was hopeful I would ace the shit and finally be able to go forward in my last year of college.

After bathing my body and shampooing the stink of barhopping from my hair, I was thankful that whoever lived in the house had kept the girly shit stocked. I laughed thinking this could be the guy’s wife or girlfriend’s stuff. It was always so fucking awkward to have to thank the bitch that was screaming at you the next morning for the use of her toiletries.

I grab the fluffy black towel hanging outside of the spacious shower and toweled off. The soft material on my skin flashed me back to my childhood and one of the few times my mother actually bathed me. I shook my head trying to rid my mind of the thoughts of her. Nothing good ever came from thinking about that bitch.

When my body was dry, I wrapped the towel around my head and took in my view once more in the mirror. I rubbed some A&D on my new piece of artwork and looked for my clothes once again. I located my bra, panties, and t-shirt from the night before, but still wonder where the fuck my pants went.

Walking into the bedroom once again, I tried the other door. Clearly, that was the exit to the rest of the house. I couldn’t figure out why would someone would lock it. Shrugging, I decided that the guy really was married or some shit and he was trying to hide me. It was a fucked up situation, but not one I hadn’t encountered before. I hated to bust him by banging, but who knew how long the fucker was planning on keeping me here? I had things to do and didn’t have time to play around while he attempted to save his fucked up marriage. Men were scum – especially married ones who cheated – so I figured I was doing his wife a favor by outing him. With that thought in mind, I banged louder and put my ear up to the door to listen to what was happening on the other side. There was nothing. No sounds, no voices, no dishes being broken or women screaming or crying.

My anxiety kicked up a notch when the realization suns in. I was stuck in the room. I couldn’t get out. And I had no fucking idea where I was.

Desperately, I banged on the door even louder, not caring that the wood splintered beneath my fist.

“HELLLLO??? IS THERE ANYONE THERE?” My ragged voice shrieked through the vanilla scented air. No answer. My stomach rolled suddenly and I ran for the bathroom, praying I could make it to the toilet before I dry heaved whatever bile my poor stomach was housing. I must have dry heaved a half dozen times until I finally felt like I had my body under control.

Ha, control? I’d never had any control over my body. Or my mind for that matter and it was screaming at me. I realized I was in a really fucked situation and I was pretty sure it has something to do with the green-eyed man who ‘saved’ me last night. Judging by my current situation, I wasn’t as ‘saved’ as I originally thought.

In truth, I probably would have been better off with the drunk, date-raping asshole. At least he would have released me when he was done.

Once the realization sunk in that I was technically a prisoner wherever the hell I was, my stubborn will came to life and refused to fucking accept it. Running across the room back to the black door, I pounded harder, not caring that my hand would be bruised from the force of the strikes against the wood. The bangs echoed through the room, but no one came.

Completely freaked out and frustrated, I started to cry for the first time in fucking years. Real tears streamed down my face and I was at a complete loss.

I was so fucked.

Chapter Six

~ Gabriel ~

I didn’t intend for this to happen this way. I never wanted to take her away from her life – but I can’t say I hadn’t prepared for it. However, sometimes in the heat of emotion or at times when a person has no time to consider their options, they make decisions. They’re not always right, or good, or intelligent, but they make them anyway.

And while holding her in my arms the night before, I’d made mine.

Sitting in the living room, I could hear her banging on the door as I lounged in an overstuffed chair. Debussy’s Clair De Lune played in the background and I breathed in deeply while thinking about what I would do next. I tried to focus on the music, but her banging and screaming was interrupting my thoughts. My fists gripped in aggravation and I continued trying to focus on the melody, the harmony and cadence in the music.

‘Let me out of this fucking room! …’

Closing my eyes against the terror in her voice, I grabbed the remote from the table beside me and turned the music up louder. After a few minutes, the banging finally stopped.

She could hear it and I knew she was listening intently for any sign of another person in the house. After a few more seconds, I accepted that I’d need to finally introduce myself. There was no point in drawing out the inevitable. Eventually, she’d know that she was being held and she would know the identity of the person holding her.

She just wouldn’t know why.

Standing up from the comfort of my chair, I took slow, long strides towards her door and I placed my ear up against the wood. I could hear her on the other side breathing loudly, probably within inches of me without even knowing it. Pulling a skeleton key from my pocket, I allowed the ring to jingle in my hand.

“Hello? Is somebody there? Let me out … please.”

She was scared. I chuckled thinking that, in life, she’d always handled problems by yelling or fighting her way out; but now she was trapped and yelling got her nowhere except for being tuned out by the classical music in the living room. I wished I could see her face – wished I could shed my physical body and watch her without her knowing. It was what I did online essentially, but I needed more. I wanted to touch her, to study her – to pick apart her mind to determine how it worked and to find out once and for all how a bright soul could choose the blanket of alcohol instead of reaching for the stars.

Inserting the key in the lock, I could hear her step away from the door. I turned the key slowly, allowing the sound of metal sliding against metal to announce that I was coming into the room. Almost as soon as the lock clicked, she was at the door, pulling at the handle and opening it to find me standing in the doorway.

“Who the fuck are you and why do you have me locked in this fucking room?!”

She didn’t intimidate me and I looked at her with an impassive expression. I believed my lack of reaction may have startled her because she stepped back to place distance between us.