“I don’t believe half of what he says,” I tell her with a shrug.
“Then watch him closer,” she says as she gets up from the chair and straightens her skirt. “Listen to what he does instead of what he says. You told him your dad was forcing you to marry for money, and in his mind he’s removing that problem for you. He’s fixing it. He doesn’t share the same morals as most folks. Now, eat your stew and get some rest — Christ knows you’ll need it if you’re going to fight him.”
She puts the bowl down in front of me and I pick up the spoon, confused by her words.
“Fight him? I thought you said I should listen to him?”
She shrugs while she walks back up the stairs and raises her arm in the air, as if I’m being naïve and she’s dismissing me.
“More than one way to listen, pet. Listen with your ears, your eyes, your fists, your heart. It’s all the same thing, really.”
Time stretches out until every minute feels like an hour. Alice left the light on, probably so I could eat, but since she’s not come back to switch it off, and I don’t know when she will, I take full advantage of it. I think I’ve looked at almost everything there is to see in the room, which is about what you’d expect for a basement turned prison.
She said Shaun would be back soon. Maybe she was lying, because this doesn’t feel like soon. Or then again, maybe it’s just in my head and the reality is that not much time has passed at all. It’s hard to tell when you don’t have a frame of reference and you have nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company.
I did start trying to process things. Her words struck a cord with me. She paints such romantic pictures of love and what it is. She seems to think fucking and fighting and love and hate are all interchangeable. Half of me wonders if it really is that good, while the other half is aghast at what could have happened to her to make her think this way?
Why would you want to feel that much emotion for someone? How can that possibly be enjoyable or something worth doing? It’s not something I’ve ever experienced permanently and I’m not sure I’d ever want to.
I had a taste of it with Shaun. He’s the only person who’s ever brought multiple feelings to the surface all at once and it’s enough to make you dizzy. He gives me highs like I’ve never felt before, and it was only yesterday I admitted I was scared of never feeling those highs again.
But it’s everything else.
It’s never just highs with Shaun. It’s the ups and downs. It’s like being on a rollercoaster at a fairground, one with the big loops. You’re waiting in line excited but also nervous, you get on anyway because your friend tells you it will be worth it. Then you’re strapped in, you’re going faster than you expected, not knowing which way up you are, or where you’re going. Half of you enjoying yourself but the other half thinking this train could come off the tracks at any minute and that would be it.
The end.
Choosing Shaun, for real, would be like getting on that rollercoaster.
The harness would be down and there would only be two ways out. There would be no switching seats or slowing down. We’d either have the ride of our lives, or we’d not get out in one piece.
I feel my resolve softening towards him so I stop thinking about it.
Instead I start a game in my head where I close my eyes, and the first thing I see, I have to guess whether it’s priced lower or higher than the last thing I saw. I don’t know the answers of course, so naturally I win more than I lose. But I’m going through items quite quickly so I take my time and start evaluating each one like I’m on a fucking game-show. “Well, you see, Judy, I happen to know this is not just your standard screwdriver. This is a gold plated original done in the art déco style and it’s absolutely a fine example.”
That’s what I tell Judy, my opponent, in my head.
I’m losing the fucking plot.
And I kinda need to pee.
A little while later, I hear keys in the lock and footsteps on the stairs. I hope she has a key for this foot clamp because if not I will piss this bed, and I’ll laugh when she has to change it.
That would serve her nicely for not letting me go when I told her to.
But it’s not Alice.
He doesn’t say anything, he just looks at me. His expression gives nothing away either. Not that he’s sorry or that he’s pleased with himself, not that he hates me or he likes me.
Just a blank look.
A stare.
The silence stretches out before us and I try to think of something to say, but where would I even start? How would I begin to untangle the knots in my brain and in my heart?
So instead, I start at the place where it’s easiest.
“I need to pee,” I tell him, watching his face closely. I think he’s been in a daze, because his face changes like he’s only just now seeing me for the first time.
He nods and comes closer to me, bending down beside the bed. I shift away from him on instinct, and he glances at me while he peels back the blankets covering my leg. He holds my foot up and takes a key out of his pocket, unlocking it and letting the clamp fall to the floor.
“Was that really necessary?” I ask, standing up on shaky legs and trying to stretch.
He catches my arm and holds me steady for a second while I get used to using my legs again. “Aye, it was. I had to make sure you didn’t start walking around in the dark all dazed and hurt yourself.”
Sure it was.
“You had to make sure I didn’t escape, more like,” I say, spitting the words at him and taking my arm back.
I can stand up just fine by myself.
“Believe me, darlin, there’s not a chance you’d be getting through that door up there. Tried it myself many times.”
“Whatever. Where’s the toilet?” I step off the mat thing I’ve been lying on and stumble slightly, much to my own annoyance. My legs feel like jelly and I really wish they didn’t. He’s on me in a second, scooping me up and heading towards the stairs with me. “Put me down you big… idiot.”
He just laughs at me, and that serves only to piss me off even more because this is no time for laughing. “Nope.”
He climbs the basement stairs easily and then backs into the door to open it, and we’re in his hallway. I look around and locate the front door behind me.
My exit.
I don’t know where he lives, it could be on a main road or it could be out in the middle of nowhere. I’ll need to plan for my escape meticulously.
Car keys.
Is there a garage?
If there is a window, then I can look out and see if there’s a road… neighbors… someone who can help.
Then maybe I wouldn’t need a car.
My thoughts go on like this — racing at 100mph — until I notice he’s not taking me to the toilet, we’re going up the stairs again.
We round the corner on the landing and he backs into another door. His bedroom.
“I need the toilet!” I tell him, and he puts me down in the middle of the room.
“Right behind you, princess,” he says. “I’ll be waiting right here.”
Chapter 4
SHAUN