Page 8 of Leave Me (Touch of Death 2)
He does, and I’m exactly where I need to be.
He’s trying to work me out, dig beneath my lies. I vow to myself, right here and now, that he won’t see a thing. I will appear as the willing bride to be. An act, Daddy used to say.
Only when he truly believes me willing, will I pounce. I’m prepared to sacrifice everything for this one goal. It could take weeks or months, but as I once again conjure the image of Enrique with his throat opened and bleeding out, I know it will be worth it. He’ll never see me coming. A shadow in the night armed with a blade that I will embed in his cold, black heart.
Nothing else matters. Only this.
For you, Daddy. I will do this for you.
This room has been my constant for the last three days. I didn’t really know what to expect when I handed myself over to Enrique. The man was and still is a complete stranger. I told myself that I was braced for anything: his violence, his unwanted attention. Of course, violence is exactly what I got, and yet, I haven’t seen Enrique since. This…lingering, is both unsettling and relieving.
I’m fractious, though, imagining all the possibilities. I hate not knowing what’s coming next, and I despise feeling useless. At this very moment, all my plans lay barren, wasted, and pointless. Frustration is my ever-present companion.
The room Enrique keeps me in opens onto a balcony that overlooks the gardens. It’s the only reprieve I get from the four walls. Pushing off the bed, I step through the open doors, trailing my fingers over the curtains that catch on the soft breeze. Below the balcony is the swimming pool that runs almost the entire length of the house in a narrow strip. Sunshine plays through the liquid, painting pretty patterns on the blue mosaic tiles at the bottom. But what grabs my attention is the woman leisurely swimming lengths. Her white bikini contrasts against golden skin, and she’ so graceful. So free. Unlike me. She seems unaware of my presence, but I have to wonder who she is. Enrique doesn’t have a sister, and I’m sure he doesn’t let his staff use the pool. His girlfriend perhaps. I wouldn’t put it past him to marry one woman and keep another to fuck.
I stay there, watching her with envy, inhaling the scent of wildflowers and the ocean that trickles on distant winds. Gardeners mow and trim, making everything look shiny and perfect. The sprinklers arc through the air, creating a rhythmic hiss that’s an ever-present backdrop to my existence.
I swipe a hand over my brow, feeling the collected sweat. That pool looks very appealing right now. Though the sun heats my skin, but it only lingers on the surface. Inside, I’m always cold.
Being out here makes me feel a little more sane, less caged. Though, really that’s all this place is, a beautiful cage. From the roses blooming in the flower beds to the bright, emerald-green lawns that look more like carpet than grass, it’s all just…glitter. The lawns give way to a wooden fence, the top covered in thick spikes that are a potent reminder of exactly what this place really is—a prison.
I’ve debated trying to escape, just to rid myself of the boredom, but there would be no point. I came here for a reason. It just requires biding my time. He wants to marry me, which means he’s going to have to let me out of this room at some point…. I think. Honestly, I imagine Enrique would have no problem imprisoning his wife.
The sun eventually dips below the horizon, painting the sky in amber and crimson tones. With the darkness comes a chill that has the hairs rising on my arms. Stepping back inside, I turn on the bedside lamp before I get into the shower. I allow the scalding hot water to wash over my tense muscles, though it does nothing to ease them. There was once a time when my biggest concern was my next deadline for a dissertation or texting back whatever boy I was seeing at the time. How I wish I could go back and become that girl again. I never truly appreciated the lengths Daddy went to in order to grant me that normal life, away from all this. I see all too clearly now, but the innocence and naivety of youth can never be regained once tainted.
When I get out, I cross the room and go to the fully stocked closet. I don’t know whether I should find it creepy that Enrique had all these clothes bought for me or not. Opening one of the drawers, I pull out a shirt and shorts pajama set. The cotton is soft against my skin, and I almost hate that he bought such nice things.
