Page 1 of Sugar Coated

Then, Laina

I was never one to freak out over stupid things. Tests at school I might’ve done not so well on, wanting certain boys to ask me out… it was funny how trivial it all was now that I was kidnapped and chained to a bed.

This? This definitely warranted a freak out, if you asked me.

Trapped in a tiny room, my ankle surrounded by a cold chain linking me to the bed, only allowing me to go far enough to use the nearby toilet and tub. This wasn’t a life. This was torture. Being alone with my thoughts, if I managed to survive, I’d probably be insane.

Who wanted to be alone with nothing but their thoughts? Not me.

With no windows, I couldn’t tell what time of day it was, whether the sun was up outside or not. I was pretty sure at least a day had passed, but I couldn’t be one hundred percent certain. For a while, I tried to pull my ankle free of the shackle, but the thing was tight. There was hardly any wiggle room; I only ended up rubbing the metal against my bare skin enough that I rubbed the skin underneath raw.

I didn’t use the tub yet. I’ll probably have to do a balancing act and keep the shackle out of the water while trying to wash the rest of me.

If I survived that long, that was.

I couldn’t say how much time passed before I heard the door to the room unlock, but I sat up at attention, my jaw grinding as I waited for my captor to walk in. I wished I had a weapon, something I could use to kill him.

Stab him. Slit his throat and watch him bleed out, only making a move to search his body for the key to my shackle once I was sure he was dead.

But, I realized as I waited, he might not even have the key on him—and if I killed him and he didn’t have the key, I’d be screwed every which way. I’d die here, slowly withering away, if this whole thing was a one-man job.

So I waited, and when the man himself walked in carrying a tray of what looked to be food, my stomach clenched in anticipation.

God, I was starving. I didn’t even realize it until now, until the man wearing the devil mask stepped closer to my bed and I saw the meat-filled sandwich and bag of chips resting atop the tray.

He said nothing at all as he set the tray on the foot of the bed, near my chained ankle, and even though his devil mask hid most of his face, I could see his eyes. He watched me with every step he made, every movement, never once taking his intense gaze off me. Shadows clung to their hue thanks to the mask, so I couldn’t quite tell what color they were.

Every muscle in my body screamed for me to lunge at him, to try to overpower him, but I didn’t. I sat there, watching him as he watched me, and I eventually broke the silence of the room by asking, “Who are you?” Not the first time I asked that question, and it wouldn’t be the last.

This man… this Devil, he never seemed very talkative. In fact, I didn’t think I heard him speak once yet.

With every aspect of his face covered, wearing all black, it was obvious he didn’t want me knowing who he was. Maybe so he could be free of the consequences if I ever managed to escape… or maybe for a different reason entirely.

“Why am I here?” Another question I asked him before. “Why won’t you talk to me? Why won’t you tell me anything?” That last question I shouted at him; I had no patience, and I’d be lying if I said I was calm.

How could a seventeen-year-old girl be calm when her future might consist of nothing but violence and torture?

The Devil tilted his head at me slowly, so slowly it almost looked comical, but in the end, he said nothing as he turned away from me and started for the door.

“Wait!” I called after him. “Talk to me. Please.” As much as I hated it, my voice broke on the final plea, cracking loud enough for him to hear. Begging my kidnapper to talk to me; how pathetic could I be?

I didn’t know what made him stop, but when my voice cracked, his legs halted, and he measuredly turned around to face me. Dark hair, a fit body; it was all I could discern. Every identifying feature was hidden by that creepy mask.

“Please,” I said again, though softer this time. “Just… tell me the truth. Are you going to kill me?”

The Devil slowly shook his head, and though I should’ve been filled with relief, I knew I couldn’t really trust a word he said. Or, since he didn’t use words, anything he did. On a list of untrustworthy people, he’d be at the tippy-top.

And since I was a girl, I also knew death wasn’t the only thing that could happen to me here.

I swallowed hard. “Are you…” Something about these next words made them hard to say. “Are you going to rape me?” My heart beat faster at that, threatening to spill out of my chest. You couldn’t really trust men, no matter how old you were as a girl. We all learned that young.

I swallowed again as I watched him bring himself back to my bed. He didn’t stop at the end of it, though; this time he stepped around it and came closer to me. I was sitting up, my back rod-straight, my fingers digging into the sheets below so tightly my knuckles were white. Compared to me on the bed, he stood tall, towering over me and making me feel extremely small.

If I thought my heart was going to bust out of my chest earlier, sitting there with the Devil gazing down at me made my body feel like it was going to explode. The whole thing, not just my heart. I was frozen, trapped in place, unable to move.

And then the Devil lifted his right hand and brought his gloved fingers to my face—to my cheek, to be more exact. The back of those fingers ran softly down the side of my cheek, along my jawline, until they reached my chin and stopped. The touch, so soft, so gentle, confused me more than anything else had in my life.

He did not speak, but he did finally answer my last question by shaking his head once. Even though he was my kidnapper and I was his prisoner, even though he wore a mask to conceal his features, the entire interaction felt way more intimate than it had any right to be.

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