Page 50 of Blue Velvet

I glare at him, meeting his face just in time to see his expression break.

He looks hurt, devastated.

It’s another one of those moments when I wish I could take back what I said. He’s cruel, a psychopath.

But he’s not a monster.

“This isnotwhat I wanted,” he says in such a low voice that it almost breaks my heart. He doesn’t have to elaborate for me to know that he’s not simply talking about what just happened.

He’s talking aboutallof this. About almost everything that has happened since he took me.

But the sorrowful expression disappears almost as quickly as it appeared.

“This doesn’t give me anything,” he hisses, gesturing toward my body. “I don’t enjoy hurting you like this. I don’t fucking enjoy seeing you like this.”

I bite my lower lip.

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” I say. “It was an accident.”

I reach up to his face, placing my hand on his cheek, and he lets me. He even leans into it for a second, but retreats quickly then as if I slapped him.

“You were right,” I whisper. “I like this. I like what you’re doing to me.”

Our eyes meet, and he reaches up to my hand then, gently removing it from his face.

“But I don’t like this basement,” I say. “I don’t want to be down here. I hate being locked up in here all by myself, every day, all day long.”

My attempts to fight off the tears are futile. I assume that’s one thing we have in common: the inability to allow ourselves to show weakness in front of the other.

I know I’m just churned up by the accident. I was in shock, and now that I’m recovering, I’m bereft of my defense mechanisms to keep the dark thoughts away. They come swarming at me all at once, filling me with despair and hopelessness.

“I don’t like this fear,” I mumble. “I don’t like not knowing what will happen to me. I don’t like the uncertainty of this. I don’t like fearing you as much as I do. I want-”

“Hush,” he interrupts me, placing his index finger on my lips, and only worsening my anxiety.

I close my eyes, trying to calm myself. The first wave of tears is rolling down my cheeks.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers. “I’m not going to end you, toy.”

“But what are you going to do?” I ask pitifully, opening my eyes so I can meet his gaze.

A dark smile plays around the corners of his mouth, frightening me even more.

“Just promise me you’ll be a good girl from now on,” he says. “Just be a good girl for me - and no harm will ever come your way.”

28

Ruby

Nineteen days.It frightens me that I know the number so well.

It makes me sad that my life is so empty that I’m forced to do little more than count the days as they pass by. At least my life is full enough that the days no longer seem as if they stretch on for eternity.

I’ve ascended, quite literally. He allowed me to leave the basement dungeon after falling down the stairs. He claimed it was only temporary until my wounds healed, but maybe it was his way of minimizing his guilty feelings, whether he admitted to feeling guilty or not. I was pretty fortunate to only end up with a few bruises on my leg, a deep bruise splattered across my lower back, and a twisted ankle, as it turned out that it wasn’t sprained after all. It did swell up the following day, but it went down rather quickly once he started icing it. The ankle is fine now, and the bruises are barely visible at this point.

He took care of me much better than one would expect of a kidnapper. I never called him out on it, just as I never mentioned that he called me by my name. We both know he did it and that it means something, just as we both know subconsciously that his gentle, concerned caregiving means something.

It may be my way out, my ticket to freedom. If he accepts that whatever it is that we’re doing is growing into something bigger, then we might be able move on from this. I have no idea exactly what that something different could look like, though.

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