Page 24 of Take Me

“I’m not cold,” I say when he lays down behind me, naked from the waist up, and pulls the blanket over us. I am a little chilly, but I’d rather freeze than be stuck in this pretend intimacy with my captor.

“I know,” he simply says and slides one arm under my head for me to use as a pillow while stroking my forehead with the other.

I tense up, trying not to lean too much into him. But my soul is starved for affection after what I’ve been through today, and somewhere along the way, my resistance lets up. Closing my eyes, I sink into him, and the man who has violated and humiliated me without a flicker of emotion actually hums as he gives me a tiny squeeze.

I stiffen for a second before breathing hard and asking on a long exhale, “Why are you doing this?”

“This?” He gives me another squeeze, tight this time.

I nod my head on his arm.

“I’m supposed to train you, not break you. And I came very close to doing the breaking today.”

“And what do you care?” I try to pull away, but he simply bands an arm around my waist and drapes a leg over mine.

“Special client—makes you special.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“A friend of mine has made a very specific order, and I’ll train you to meet his demands.”

I don’t want to ask the question I already know the answer to, but I need to hear it. “So, you’re selling me?”

“Yes.”

His answer is a punch to the gut, and I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to breathe through theanxiety.

“No worries,Koshechka.You’ll learn to like it. This is part of the request your new master made.”

“That won’t ever happen.”

“I’m very good,” he says with arrogant confidence.

Unable to bear more information about this sick business or have more arguments shot down with cold efficiency, I stay quiet.

CHAPTER

6

My days morph into a warped routine of constant humiliations, violations, and twisted moments of comfort in my captor’s embrace. Time drags on at a dreadfully slow pace, and it’s a struggle to keep count of the days. My only indicators of time are the artificial lights that seem to follow the pace of the day, coming on in the mornings and shutting off at night, and the three meals that seem to occur morning, afternoon, and evening.

Besides the trips down the hall to be washed in the evenings, I spend my days confined to my cell, hands in mittens and chained to the collar. Mikhail only frees my hands for a short while in the mornings, allowing me to eat my kasha and use the toilet, then again in the evening when I’m hosed down.

I’ve never been claustrophobic, but having my hands and arms trapped like this does things to my mind. I’ll pace the small space of the cell until the soles of my feet hurt and the cold bites deep into them, then lie down on the mattress where I’ll struggle to pull the blanket over me and try to lie still.

Moving around seems to be the only thing that will keep the panic at bay. When I lie down, it creeps up on me like a serpent, slithering around my chest and infiltrating my mind with terrifying images and thoughts.

So I shut my eyes and try to think myself away to a better place.

I think about the woods and the mountains I was supposed to hike in. The scent of pine trees, thick moss beneath my feet, and the sun glittering on a forest lake.

But then I remember where my last attempted hiking trip got me. The thick forest that seems to surround this place, holding out anyone who might try to find me.

I think about my friends back home instead, my cozy apartment, and reading a good book in bed.

But then I remember that I’ll probably never see them, my apartment, or a good book again, and the terror slithers right back in.

The only thing that will bring me some kind of peace is thinking about Nikolai.

---