Deliverance for Amelia (8 page)

Chapter Eighteen: Amelia

I
’M STARING AT THE WHITE CEILING, trying to comprehend that I’ve been in this prison for months now. I’m wearing the sundress that Gabe has laid out for me. It’s a spaghetti strap dress and it’s quite beautiful. My long dark hair halos my head against the satin pillow. I normally wouldn’t think to wear a sundress in the middle of fall, because it is freezing outside – but whatever master wants, he gets.

This is what I do every day. I lay and wait for whatever he has in store for me. Some days, he’s kind; making me luxurious baths, giving me back massages with the finest oils and making sweet love to me.

Other days, he strings me up and has his way with me. He ravages my body. Bites and whips. He bends me over his knee and whips my backside relentlessly for the smallest infraction and then he kisses me and apologizes for being so hard on me.

Hot, cold. Hot, cold. That is Gabe.

“Oh, Amelia. Come here my love!” He hollers from downstairs. I let out a sigh and sit up hurriedly, at my master’s beck and call.

I make my way down the stairs and my eyes grow wide at the sight of sunlight flooding through the front doors. I hurry down the remainder of the stairs and I face the light streaming inside. It’s bright outside. Sun. Oh how I miss the sun on my shoulders. I begin to take a step forward and then stop. Where is Gabe?

“Master?” I say, and wait for about a minute with no response. Perhaps he’s in another room, awaiting my presence. I swallow audibly and once my eyes have travelled to the multiple doors throughout the foyer, I settle my gaze back on the light. This light is my escape. Before I allow the trepidation to take over, my feet take off from under me and I’m fleeing.

As soon as I escape the doors I stop and look around me. I’m in the middle of nowhere and it looks like his home was plopped down right in the middle of the woods. In my mind, I know there is a huge chance that this is a trap, but my heart tells me to run with everything I’ve got.

I see a clearing in the wooded walls as my heart drums away in my ears. It seems the most plausible route, given that that there really is no other clearing for me to go bounding through. I quickly glance behind me to the front doors remaining suspiciously ajar. There’s still no sign of Gabe.

I exhale a shaky breath and I’m off once more. The closer I get to the clearing, the more my heart soars. This is it. This is –

“Ahhhh!” I yell as my ankle is yanked from under me and my body catapults into the air. I’m hanging here. Dangling from the limb of a tree, and tears immediately escape my eyes. I’m such a fool. I’m a fool for having any type of hope.

I hear the ominous sound of slow claps and footsteps approaching, crushing the dried leaves beneath them. Goosebumps spread over my body, and I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or from the fear of displeasing my master. However, I’m not sure how displeased he actually is. Clearly this was just another game. One of his “lessons” that he never fails to teach me. I am his captive, his slave. Escape is a fairy tale.

He clucks his tongue at me and shakes his head in disapproval, “Amelia, did you honestly think that you’d get away?”

The tears are pouring from my eyes and gliding down my temples due to my upside-down state. I feel the anger bubbling under the surface as this man watches me with amusement. My fear is a game to him, my hope is a joke. I know that I should watch my tongue, for fear of any further punishment, but I cannot. I cannot keep the words at bay. My sanity relies on my right to speak them.

“I fucking hate you.” I sneer, and in an instance he is eye level to me – his fist in my hair as he yanks my head as though I’m a rag doll.

“Do you think I care, Amelia?” He stops and pulls my lips to his for an awkward upside-down kiss. He yanks away and looks into my eyes, his pupils hiding the beautiful green irises, showing him for what he is; the devil.

“You can hate me all day, every day. However, I think you’d be lying if you said that you hated me when I’m loving every inch of you.” He says tacitly, his pupils shrinking once more, shooting a chill down my spine. It’s like he’s a man possessed, I’ve never seen someone’s eyes change in such a way.

“Just because my body betrays me does not mean that I’ve fully submitted to you, Gabe. I am not a slave. I have rights like any other living being-”

He strengthens his grip in my hair and I feel as though the strands are being ripped from my scalp, “Oh, please Amelia. A monster, am I? I will never deny that. But, you are a liar. You’ve been waiting for a man like me, a man who will throw a wrench into your perfect little existence. I see right through you. I see how you look at me with lust filled eyes. I see your vein throb erratically when I touch you.” He pauses and runs a finger over my neck and I sigh, “You love it when I’m inside of you. You love it when I dominate you. You love every single bit. Unbeknownst to your father, he raised a perfect little slave. So eager to please.”

Without thinking, I rear back and spit it his face. It lands right beneath his eye and he doesn’t bother to wipe it away. His lips crash into mine momentarily before he turns swiftly, making his way back to the house.

He’s leaving me out here. Maybe I’ll freeze to death. The thought is bitter sweet. On one hand, death would definitely be an easy way out – even if it consists of my blood crystallizing in my veins in a slow, painful manner. On the other, the thought is terrifying – I’m not ready to die. However, unlike Gabe’s other victims – I will not be granted the salvation of death. I’m stuck here, and regardless of how fucked up it sounds, I would let the chill take me. I would swallow my pride and die at the hands of nature rather than those of a sadistic man.

Chapter Nineteen: Gabe

I
CIRCLE MY INDEX FINGER through the thick condensation that has gathered against the glass of my sweating tumbler. The smooth whiskey has warmed the blood in my veins, leaving a tingling reminder of my sweet Amelia’s dangling form outside. She’s likely freezing. Perhaps she’s hypothermic. Whatever the case, I must go retrieve her soon. I can’t have my shiny new toy breaking and dying so soon.

My phone buzzes, sending it into a frenzied dance across the dark wood of the table.

“Yes.” I respond to the unknown number on my newest throw away cellular.

“They aren’t buying it, Gabe. They smell the lie in the rumors about her, I just know it.” The Mayor bellows into the other end.

“Did you tell them about the green eyed charmer who swept her off her feet, flying her away to Cabo?” I ask.

“I did, Gabe. Have you even bothered to watch the news?”

I let out a sigh, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Is she okay, Gabe? Please, let me talk to her.”

My eyes travel to the window, looking out at her shivering body. She’s managed to lift her upper half and is hanging onto the rope, which suspends her, “She’s fine, Tony. Just… hanging out… I’m afraid she’s currently unavailable for comment.”

The Mayor lets out an exasperated sigh in response.

“Look,” I say before taking a sip of the whiskey, “I’ll figure out how to dispel any untruths that people may suspect regarding her disappearance. I’ll keep you informed.”

I end the call and make my way outside to check on the little dove that I’ve decided to keep.

She’s shivering relentlessly. I’m pretty chilly myself. Massachusetts is rather cold during this time of the year. Her tiny hands are grasping the rope with everything she has in her. It’s been hours that she’s been hanging. It’s time to let her off the hook… or rope in this instance.

My eyes seek hers. Those beautiful brown eyes are still filled with absolute hatred. I have half a mind to just leave her here all night, but I’d hate to find my sweet girl frozen and dead come morning.

“Have you learned your lesson, Amelia?” I ask nonchalantly.

I give her a couple of seconds to respond. Nothing. Only her uneven, choppy breaths lingers in the air between us.

“Amelia, I suggest that you answer unless you want to sleep on the rack tonight.”

Another two seconds slip by before she swallows her pride, “Y-Yes Master. I have learned. I’m so s-s-sorry.”

I smile, “That’s good, baby. Now come on. I’ll get you down.”

I carry her to the master bedroom and wrap her in the comforter. She’s trembling uncontrollably, her lips are a light shade of blue and her skin looks milky – goose bumps disrupting its natural smoothness. I suppose if I had any empathy I would feel bad for her. However, such feelings do not exist for me. Even if I tried to feel compassion, it wouldn’t be a possibility. Those emotions just do not come to me. Not for the human race, anyway. I’ve always related to animals, but not humans. I hate people. They call it misanthropy; contempt or hatred for the human race. I’ve got demons, but I’m not sure why. I’ve never allowed myself to delve too deep into the ‘why’ of why I am the way that I am. I just… am. Over-analyzing won’t change a thing. The therapists who tried to fix me couldn’t make a difference either. They studied me like I was a goddamn lab rat. By the time I was eighteen, I was more than relieved when they could no longer poke and prod my mind. My ingenuity perplexed them, my morbid apathy frightened them even more. They just couldn’t figure me out, and to be frank… nobody ever will.

I’m a goddamn enigma.

I leave Amelia cocooned on the bed and make my way to the tub. Running her a hot bath, my mind becomes clouded with the scratchy voices that call to me… they tempt me with the need to cut flesh, to touch blood. It’s a fucking drug. I haven’t had a kill in weeks. I haven’t had any requests, and it’s killing me. The urge to throw Amelia onto the rack and use her to quiet the voices is stronger than ever. But, I’m not about pleasure kills. Killing is my job, a job that I find pleasurable – but it’s against the rules to go outside of those bounds. It’s how I justify my sick urges. With the voices, comes death. With death, comes silence. With broken rules, there wouldn’t be silence. If I went on a rampage, the voices wouldn’t stop, because the boundaries wouldn’t exist.

You’re a psychopath, Gabe. Embrace it. Torment her and then bathe in her blood. Make her scream. Make her squirm.

I smile at the voice.

You’d like that wouldn’t you? Too bad I’m in charge.

Once the bath fills with the vanilla scented water, I go to retrieve my sweet girl.

Scooping her up, she remains quiet… Cold… Frightened. What if she was on my side? Would it help me better control the urge to cut her into small pieces?

If she was like me, would she know my pain?

Would she know my madness?

Chapter Twenty: Amelia

G
ABE LOWERS ME onto unsteady feet. I look up at him and he smiles as a tear runs down my cheek.

“Shhh.” He whispers as he smudges the salty sadness, “Don’t cry baby. I’m sorry.”

I bite my cheek as I try and drown the urge to tear into him. I’m so many different things; freezing, incensed, frightened… The many feelings are a never-ending cycle, the words resting on my tongue – begging to roll off and be freed at last.

Gabe carefully peels the dress off of me, and I flinch as my joints are jostled in the process. Everything hurts. I’d been hanging from the rope for hours, wishing that the brisk air would take me away with it. It never did, of course. It abandoned me, only stopping by for a moment to whisper against my skin, reminding me of the hopelessness that has become my life.

I stand before Gabe, stripped naked of more things than just my modesty – my pride, my strength, all of it. The white dress was only a metaphor, representing my dignity. Representing the cloak that covers my heart; the heart that is slowly turning to stone. In this moment I know that I must hold onto whatever pieces I can that make me myself. I can’t give up. Not yet. Not after what I’ve been through. He can take my body. He can take my pain… but he cannot take my truth.

“Say it.” He says. His eyes are unreadable. He’s trying to hide his intentions, and I will not fall for it anymore.

“Say what?” I say through gritted teeth.

A sly smile spreads across his face as he grips my jaw, “Tell me what is going on in that pretty head of yours.”

I scoff, returning a mock smile, “Other than nearly dying as a result of your psychotic games, not a goddamn thing…” I pause, knowing that absolute hatred is swimming in my gaze, “
Master
.”

His lips drop and his brow furrows as he shoves me away, “Get in the bath,
slave
.”

He stalks out of the bathroom and my eyes follow, the smile never leaving my lips.

“I’m going to win this, you stupid motherfucker. Watch me.” I murmur before lowering myself into the bath. A hiss escapes me as every inch of cold flesh meets the steaming water.

I awake to the welcoming sunlight streaming in through the tall windows. Stretching my arms and legs, I wince at their stiffness, noting that Gabe’s side of the bed is still untouched. Good, maybe he’ll leave me the hell alone today.

Something unfamiliar catches my eye. It looks to be a white maxi dress draped over the dresser with a pair of designer sunglasses. I sit up and swing my legs over the edge before cautiously walking towards the items. There’s a note, perfectly folded down the middle with an “A” scribed on the top folded end.

I cock an eyebrow as I hastily open the letter to display its contents.

Good Morning Beautiful,

Perhaps I’ve found a way to warm you up a bit. Frigid bitch isn’t becoming of you. You’re far too lovely to be so icy.

-Gabe

I roll my eyes. Oh, Gabe. You have no idea how “frigid” I can be.

What does this mean though? The attire that he’s laid out makes me think of vacationing in Hawaii or some other luxurious, sandy getaway. Is he going to take me somewhere? It seems silly even thinking he would do such a thing. I’m his captive. Would he really be stupid enough to allow me outside of my prison? Crazy – yes, but Gabe is certainly not daft.

I creep out of the room and my eyes go wandering. I wouldn’t put it past him to leap out from the shadows and throw me onto the ground. My entire existence is on edge. The eggshells that I’ve become accustomed to are sharp and unforgiving, never allowing me to forget my place in this hell.

I find Gabe perched on one of the sleek, leather stools surrounding the half-moon marble bar. He sips his coffee and reads the newspaper like he has not a care in the world. Well, I suppose if you kill for a living you probably don’t care for much.

His eyes meet mine and he gracefully folds the paper and places it before him, “Good morning, Amelia. Did you see the surprise?” He asks cheerily. His happy tone makes my stomach turn.

“I did.” I respond quietly, feeling as though I’m in a cage with a vicious lion waiting to pounce on me - its prey.

He slides off of the stool and saunters over to me. I try and ignore how goddamn sexy he is, my imagination becomes a traitor as I think about his devious mouth, tongue, hands – No, stop it Amelia!

I snap back into defiance.

He is not your lover. He is your captor. He is your tormenter. He is your devil.

I narrow my eyes at him as he stops inches from me, his breath kissing my face, “I wanted to… apologize for last night. It was uncalled for, really.”

My lips quirk up as I look at this horrible man. Another game. Another jab.

“Oh really? What did you have in mind?” I say, my voice is surprisingly steady.

He grips my shoulders and slowly circles his thumbs – my skin releases unwanted heat from his tender touch.

Hot, cold. Hot, cold. That is Gabe. That is becoming me.

“A vacation.” He says tacitly.

I scoff and immediately regret it as his eyes gleam with warning at my unexcused outburst.

I regain my composure, cursing the shiver of fear that shoots down my spine. I hate how he can turn my strength to jelly in an instant.

“W-where?” I stutter.

The darkness in his eyes dissipates as a pleased smile tugs at his lips, “Cabo.”

I tilt my head to the side. Cabo?

“Why?” I whisper.

“I already told you, Amelia, to apologize for last night. We leave in the morning.”

I frown. It’s as if a parrot dwells in my mind; why? It just doesn’t make sense.

“For now…” He says as his large hands spring from my arms and grasp my waist, “I’d like to apologize in other ways.”

He pulls me close, wrapping an arm around my back and his free hand makes its way to the back of my skull, fisting my hair. His lips hover above mine as we share the lingering air between us, a gush of want wetting my panties, I look into his green eyes – my heart pleading with my unwilling mind; the silent battle that he inspires within me.

As much as I’ve come to hate him – as much as he’s bruised both my body and heart, I cannot stop the urge he possesses me with. It isn’t warranted. It’s wrong.

So fucking wrong.