Page 43 of Capo

I inhale to speak, to ask questions my mind hasn’t even begun to process, but Ivan spins on his heels and disappears without closing the door.

Waiting a few breathless moments, I then jump off the bed, grimacing from the strain on my back. I dart to the bag and kneel, pulling open the zipper. Books! All genres imaginable. Classics, new to me authors. My heart speeds up before it sinks again.

Anyone who shows me kindness will be punished.

‘He’s trying to say he’s sorry.’

I sneer and at first, I don’t want to accept his gifts, but then the excitement takes over. An iPad. Headphones. Spotify! An iPad with Wi-Fi! Is he stupid? I try to connect with a browser, with my mail, but it doesn’t work. Fine, not stupid.

I don’t want to feel grateful. I don’t want to feel this sudden burst of happiness, but I do. My insides are as giddy as a child’s on Christmas day. I begin to sort everything in piles, then I snap up my head and look at the half-open door as I jump up. The only times I’ve walked that hallway I was either blinded by a hood over my head, or in such bad shape that everything was blurry anyway.

My feet remember the feeling of the soft carpet. There’s a pleasant scent of sandalwood lingering in the air and I follow it to a bathroom I vaguely remember. Opposite it are the dreaded stairs. I shudder but I already know I’ll take a peek down there as well at some point. Behind the next door is yet another bedroom with an adjacent bathroom. The scent of Salvatore is stronger here. The large bed is unmade and the sheets are crumpled. Is this where he has spent the last few nights? Is he ashamed? I think of the gifts. Is he? Is there a streak of humanity in there after all? I spin on my heels and dart out. My body is so conditioned to react to him that even after his cruel treatment my pussy tingles from the ghost of his presence.

Gritting my teeth against the humiliating onslaught of sensations, my back is burning hot from the memory of his whip, I flee his room and pull open the next door. My mouth falls open as I take it in. A fully equipped gym. From what I can see it has everything you need for every muscle group in the body. Oh, please don’t take this away from me!

Examining the next two rooms, just peeking inside, I find a room with a padded, pale blue gurney in the middle and white cabinets along the walls. It looks like a mix between a sick bay and a beauty parlor. I think I was here once. I remember kind hands on my body, a mumbling man digging around in my mouth. The last door hides an office, looking much like the other I was in when I first got here.

Standing indecisively in the middle of the hallway, I then stare at the door on the far end. No doubt the exit. Assuming it’s locked, I still can’t help trying. I’m not even disappointed. Of course it’s locked. I turn and take in my new relative freedom. I don’t know what to do first. As I walk back to the bedroom, dragging my fingers along the wall, my mind spins, overwhelmed with all the new impressions.

I put on music. Just a random list of latest hits. I realize I don’t even know the latest releases. Not since a long while. I pull off the bandages, shower, rummage my own drawer for a new set of clothes, then I spend the rest of the day in front of the TV, hungry for news. There are political scandals I’ve never heard of. Celebrity divorces. Lots of news about the threat of a recession. Even more news about extreme weather, and of the latest mass shooting. It’s depressing and perhaps I haven’t even missed it. It’s also a shock to see that the world has kept turning without me. I wonder if anyone misses me. My friends? My brothers? I wonder where Kerry went and if she is safe from Christian. I’ve been so numb that I haven’t thought about the outside for a long while.

The next day I try some careful exercises in the gym. My wounds have scabbed, and it hurts surprisingly little.

Ivan comes by three times a day. I’m hungrier now that I move around more, and it’s as if he reads my mind.

“I’ll get you more to eat.”

“Thanks. Aren’t you tired of babysitting me?”

“You’re looking good,” he mumbles and turns.

“Ivan!” I take a step toward him, putting my hand on his rock-hard arm. “Is he coming back?”

Ivan shakes off my hand and pulls open the door.

“Please! Is he… tired of me?”

He freezes for a moment, then he strides down the hallway and disappears. I’m left with my questions, with my skin burning for the touch of a man who only knows how to torture me, and with the self-loathing that comes with the realization.

One afternoon when I exit the gym, wiping my forehead with a towel, sweaty and spent, I stop flat and stare. A few feet from me sits a young boy with short, ink-black hair, tracing the patterns in the carpet with the tip of his index finger. It takes me a moment to recognize David. David Salvatore. I look up, my heart leaping to my throat. Is the door unlocked? When I look back, he has raised his head and pins me with his dark gaze. I frown and abandon the instinct to try to run. With the high wall and all the guards there’s no point anyway, and David looks so lost and lonely. I crouch before him, careful to keep my distance.

“Hi.”

He looks down and continues to trace the swirly pattern. “I’m David,” he mumbles.

I sit down and cross my legs. “Nice to meet you, David. I’m Chloe.”

“I’m David,” he says again, the speed of his tracing increasing.

I don’t move. I wait. He’s stressed. He has somehow escaped his caregiver and he doesn’t know me, and possibly not these surroundings.

He keeps repeating his name and I decide to try to distract him. I’m sure someone will come for him soon. Until then, I can only do my best to soothe his worried little soul.

“Do you like the pattern?”

He stops, his finger digging into a spot. “Red.”

My heart makes a little somersault. It worked. “Yes! Red. What color is this?” I point at a blue dot.”

---