Page 45 of Eye Candy

A key sat on the table, old-looking, all metal. It was a key I’d never seen before in my life, and yet… deep down, I knew exactly what it was for.

I dropped the toothbrush and toothpaste, lunging for the table and snatching the key up in my hand. The metal was cold on my fingers, and as I held it up to the dim light, my mouth fell open in disbelief.

This didn’t make any sense. It didn’t make any sense at all.

Turning my head, I thought maybe my Devil would be in here, watching me. Maybe this was some kind of weird test.

Or maybe he was letting me go.

Either way, my Devil was nowhere to be seen. I was alone in the room and, I immediately noticed, the door to the room sat wide open, beckoning me forth. Clutching the key like it was a lifeline, I turned back to the table, spotting a small piece of paper I’d neglected to see before. On it, two words had been scrawled in tiny letters.

Be free.

I swallowed, reading the words over and over, trying to find some hidden meaning. But there couldn’t be. The words were as simple as words could be; he was letting me go. After all this time, after all he’d done… why let me go now?

It was wrong, but I stood there for a long time, debating with myself. What kind of world would I go back to? What would my life be like? I didn’t want it to be like it’d been before, where I was just a pawn my dad could use however he wanted. I’d smiled and accepted too much back then.

No more.

That’s what I decided when I brought the key to the bed and sat down, that’s what ran through my head while I lifted my ankle to my other knee and worked on undoing the lock. If I was going out there, if my Devil was really letting me go, I wanted to be whoever the hellIwanted to be, my dad be damned. This was my life, and for fuck’s sake, I was going to take it by the balls. No more backseat for me. I wanted the driver’s seat.

The shackle unlocked, and it immediately fell off my angle, clanging once it hit the concrete floor, the key falling with it. I rubbed my ankle, where the shackle had been, for the first time in what felt like forever. The skin underneath the shackle had grown rougher than the surrounding flesh, due to constantly having the metal rubbing against it.

I stood, wobbling on my feet only because of the uncertainty, and then I headed for the door. It was a strange thing, walking to the door, stepping foot farther away from the bed than I ever had. This room had become my life, and yet… here I was, about to leave it all behind.

This would be a new chapter in my life, and I had my Devil to thank.

I made it to the door, and I stopped once I stood in the doorway. With one look over my shoulder, I took in the room one final time. The bed, the TV that sat before it, the small table. I’d been so scared of this room in the beginning, of what I’d experience within it, but the last two years had consistently proved me wrong.

Turning away from the room, I walked away. The hall immediately turned into stairs, and I headed up, taking one step at a time. My legs felt weak, so I had to grip the handrail as I walked. One at a time, I didn’t stop until I reached the door atits height. It sat open as well, and I pushed out into what looked like a kitchen.

A slightly run-down kitchen, but a kitchen all the same.

“Hello?” I asked, not knowing if this was my Devil’s house or if this was just where he kept me, where he cooked me food and visited me twice a day. I received no answer. The house gave me nothing except a tiny echo of my voice.

I walked through the kitchen, half-expecting my Devil to be waiting for me somewhere, but I never saw him. The living room was empty of all furniture, which I took to mean he didn’t live here. Everything was covered in dust; the only place that wasn’t had been the kitchen.

“Hello?” I said again, turning out of the living room and stopping in the short main hall of the house. Based on the sizes of the rooms, on how narrow the hall was, I’d say it was a small house. “Are you there?” I sought so desperately to get an answer, but again, nothing but silence filled my ears.

My eyes moved to the front door. No extra locks sat on it, no chains to stop anyone from the outside world from coming in. Just a normal front door, and an old one at that. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

I couldn’t say how long I stood there, five feet away from the door, wondering what the hell I was going to do. I was free, but I didn’t want to be.

But I had to go. There was no telling that my Devil would ever return, and after all, what abducted person wanted to stay in the house where they’d been kept for two years? No, I had to muster up my courage and leave.

Something stopped me from going for the door, though. A nagging feeling inside that told me I couldn’t leave like this. What would the world think of me if I emerged after two yearswithout a scratch on me, perhaps even saner than I’d been before? They’d call me names, try to say I’d fallen for my captor, that maybe I knew who he was and where he was, that I was trying to help him cover up his crimes.

I had to make it look like a fight, like I’d miraculously gotten free and fought my way out. That I’d been so focused on getting out of this house that I didn’t stop to make sure my kidnapper was dead.

There was no other choice, really.

Turning away from the door, I walked back into the kitchen. The only problem was… how? How to make it look like a fight? How to beat myself up and make it look believable?

I lurched toward the drawers, pulling them all out. I stopped only when I found a drawer full of mismatched knives. My hand gripped the handle of the least-rusted one, pulling it out. Holding it up, I was able to see my face’s reflection in its steel.

My blond hair was a mess, the blueness of my eyes tired and weary. It wouldn’t take much to make it look like I’d been beat up, but I had to make it count. I wanted there to be no doubt at all that I’d fought my kidnapper tooth and nail to get out.

I didn’t think about it. I took the knife to my face, cutting a small line down my cheek. Not too deep, but deep enough that pain blossomed on my skin as it puckered and spread. A thin trail of blood oozed down my face, gathering on my chin until there was enough of it to drip.

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