Page 12 of Frankie and the Fed
The door opens easily, and I’m once again thankful for my break-in skills. Who knew they would be so useful?
I walk in silence inside the dark house, keeping my steps easy and light. My shoes squeak on the wooden floor, and I stop to listen. I pull out the knife and clench it in my fist.
But I don’t hear a thing. The house is still and quiet.
I continue slowly, moving toward the stairs. The house doesn’t have a basement, so I assume she’s upstairs.
How the hell does he hide what’s going on here from all the neighbors?
The stairs are old and require extra attention. I tiptoe, trying desperately not to alert anyone of my presence, to maintain the element of surprise. Surprise is my only advantage.
I check the first room down the hall and find it dark and empty. The bathroom is also empty. The last room is where I head next. I’ve never done anything like this. I’ve broken into shops to make a mess, and I broke into Lunis for her, but never into someone’s house.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Adrenaline floods through me, waking me up. My pulse is high, and my heart pounds hard in my chest. The fatigue has disappeared.
I carefully open the closed door, inch by inch, afraid of what I’m going to find behind it.
The room is pitch black, and the windows are closed. I move in, trying to gage what I see.
CHAPTER6
Ayala
Iwake up again after a few hours of disturbed sleep. I have no idea how long I’ve been here. The darkness confuses my senses. I can’t tell if it’s day or night. If he comes every five minutes or every five days. He does it on purpose, as torture. I stopped counting how many times he was here. I swore he wouldn’t break me, that I would stay strong, but I’m not sure I can keep my promise. The pain is too severe. I feel a warm liquid dripping between my legs. Blood, maybe? I’m positive he injured me the last time. I felt it.
The door clicks open, and I blink to adjust to the light coming in through the doorway. Light. That means it’s daytime.
He carries a tray in his hands, and I can already feel the saliva building up in my mouth. It’s time to feed the animals. I know it’s been a while since the last meal because my stomach is cramping with hunger. And I’m thirsty. So thirsty. He makes me grateful for the food I receive and for every bit of humanity he gives me. I am disgusted by the unwanted feelings that arise inside me.
“I’ll release you now so you can eat.” He places the tray on the edge of the bed. “If you do anything stupid, you’ll pay for it.”
I nod, agreeing to his threat.
He removes the gag from my mouth and releases the restraints on my arms. I rub them with the little strength I have in hopes of returning some blood flow and feeling in my limbs. The skin on my wrists is red and raw from my struggles. My thighs are stained with blood, some dry and some fresh. I swallow an acidic wave of nausea that fills my throat as I take this assessment of myself and glance down at the coagulated sperm on my stomach and chest.
I command my body to relax. Fear has a distinct smell. I notice it now. I stink of fear. It has a bitter and sour scent, a smell of horror and disgust, and I reek of it.
I take the glass with a trembling hand and drink the water in one gulp. Swallowing hurts. My throat hurts beyond my imagination. “Can I have more?”
He smiles. “Please.” He doesn’t move.
What? Puzzled, I stare at him.
“Say, please.” He says, his tone calm yet forceful. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just teaching you your place. You need to understand how to behave, my dear wife.”
I bite the inside of my cheek in an effort to control the urge to spit in his face. “Please.”
He takes the glass and goes to the adjoining bathroom. I peek at the door. This could be my chance. The door is open, and I’m not restrained. I try to move one of my legs toward the floor and groan in pain. I can stand. My legs are mostly okay. But there’s no chance of escaping. I could never escape him in this condition. And where would I run to? To die in the forest? Would I risk Ethan’s life only to end this with my death as well?
I can’t run away, and even if I could, he would kill Ethan. I know he will. Michael has lost whatever humanity he had. He’s become a torturer. A murderer.
I’m the only one who should have to bear the consequences of my choices. The only one who should have to pay for marrying this man.
How was I so wrong? How could I have thought he was a nice man who would take care of me? I thought I had won the lottery when I married him. How did he become this thing, this creature? The ruler of my personal hell?
He places the glass in my hand, and I sip. I examine the plate he’s brought me. Potatoes and some meat. No fork. I take a potato from the plate and put it in my mouth, followed by another. I’m careful not to rush so I don’t throw up. If I vomit, I’ll starve. He won’t bring me anything else. I know because that’s what happened last time.
I take advantage of the faint rays of light coming from the open doorway to examine my surroundings again. The room is simple, with sparse furniture made of dark wood, making the large iron bed in the center of the room outrageous. On both sides are small chests without drawers. The window is bolted closed and covered with a white lace curtain.
