Dark Desires by Candace Wondrak

Chapter One – Juliet

Sometimes it felt like the world closed in on me, pressing against me, stifling me. Choking me. Some days I wondered what it was like to have a normal life, a normal family: a mother and a father who cared for me but let me live, like I saw in all those TV shows. Some nights I lay awake wondering if I’d ever be free.

But did I want to be? After all, being free meant every decision would be mine. I would have no one looking out for me, no one doing what they could to keep me safe; that’s all Daddy was doing when he punished me.

At least, that’s what I believed.

I had to, for if I believed something else, where would I be? Lost and scared, nothing more than a little girl trying to play adult.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I was out of the house with Daddy; we’d gone to a party of some sort in a place called Midpark, and I’d been bad. I’d wandered away from his side even though he’d told me not to. I’d met a man named Markus, and even though I hadn’t seen his face, I couldn’t stop picturing my imaginary prince in the car with me instead of Daddy, his suit snug on his tall, strong body.

Oh, I knew Markus was a stranger to me, but so was everyone else in the world. When you were locked away for your own good, I think you tended to be a bit more idealistic than most. I felt so much older than I was, and I didn’t know whether I should blame Daddy or myself for that.

Daddy’s jaw was tense the whole ride home, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. When I’d wandered back to his side at the party, I’d known it right then: he was angry with me. Beyond angry. Even though his face had been hidden by a mask, he’d wanted to yell at me. Just barely the man had held back, probably because there were strangers around.

He’d excused himself, walked over to me, and took me by the arm, dragging me out of the mansion and away from the man who’d taken off my mask to see my face. Away from Markus and any hope I had that I’d meet the prince who would save me from my own existence. He’d stuffed me into the car, and we began the long drive home in silence.

Not for the first time, I turned my head to look at Daddy, an ache in my heart. I did so hate disappointing him, but what did he honestly expect? To bring me out into the world and somehow keep me tucked under his wing like a baby bird? I was old enough to know there was so much more out there, waiting for me.

But I also knew it was a dangerous place, and if you weren’t careful, it could swallow you up and never spit you out. You could lose yourself, everything you were, in the world and its vices. I never wanted to know what that felt like. I didn’t want to be devoured by darkness.

“Daddy,” I spoke, breaking the silence of the car, “I’m sorry—” Anything else I might’ve said died in my throat when he refused to look at me. It was as if I’d disappointed him to the core, almost like he hated me right now.

I hated myself for making him feel like that. I should never have left his side. The thought shouldn’t have ever crossed my mind, let alone the courage to actually do it. Daddy was all I had in this world; I shouldn’t want to find my prince and leave him. What would he do without me?

When I realized he wasn’t going to respond to me, I settled back in my seat, my eyes on my lap. The dress I wore felt strange. I felt out of place wearing it, especially now that I was back in the car. Don’t get me started on how Daddy looked in his suit; as much as I shouldn’t want to think of that man again, Markus had looked so much more handsome wearing a suit than Daddy did.

Markus. Even though I knew it was wrong, I also knew that man and his masked face would haunt my dreams. Everything he’d said, how he’d touched my own mask, studying me as if I was the most wonderful, innocent thing he’d ever seen. Almost precious, but curious at the same time.

I thought I’d liked it, but the more I thought about it, the more I wasn’t sure. How could you be sure of something you’d never felt before?

I didn’t know how much longer it took us to reach our home. I stopped looking at the clock on the center dashboard, instead fixated on the hands in my lap. My own hands, and yet they looked strange, foreign, as if they were not my hands at all.

Daddy pulled the car into the garage, parking it and turning it off without a single word to me. He pressed the button on the visor and the garage door jolted to life, closing behind us. A vein in his forehead popped as he unclicked his seatbelt and got out of the car, slamming his door behind him. Still, I did not move. I couldn’t.

He came around the front of the car, to the passenger side door, my door. He flung it open, leaned inside and unbuckled my seatbelt for me. Daddy’s hand curled around my upper arm, and he dragged me out of the car, rougher than he’d ever been with me before. Just went to show how much I’d angered him by wandering off—the exact thing he’d told me not to do.

I was meant to stay by his side. Why couldn’t I listen to him? Why did I want to go off on my own? Stupid, stupid. Something could’ve happened to me. That Markus could’ve been crazy or something. How was I supposed to know? It wasn’t like I spent any time around other people, not like I knew how to read them or even interact with them. Watching TV was one thing, but actually being in a room full of other people and knowing what to say and how to act was another entirely.

I wasn’t ready for it. I shouldn’t have gone with him.

But then… even though I’d begged him to let me tag along, the decision had always been Daddy’s. He’d willingly brought me to that party. Surely he’d known I would want a little taste of freedom? I’d been so good for years now, sticking to the house like a good girl; I hadn’t left the house while he was gone again because I couldn’t stand to know how much my actions caused him grief.

Daddy held onto my arm so roughly I winced as he dragged me through the garage, around the car and to the door to the house. He practically kicked it down to get us inside, and within another moment, he dragged me up the stairs. I tripped as I tried to follow him, but with the way he held onto my arm, holding it a bit too high, fingers curled a bit too hard around my flesh, I felt like a dog that didn’t know how to walk on a leash.

I felt stupid. But I guessed that was because I was stupid. Stupid for leaving his side, stupid for not listening to him. I was old enough now to know this was the only place I was safe, and Daddy was the only person in the whole world who cared about me.

Daddy said nothing, not even as we finally came to the hall upstairs. He didn’t have to. Anything he could’ve said had already raced through my mind. Any words from him would’ve only reinforced what I already knew: I’d been bad, and bad girls got punished. Bad girls got locked away until they thought about what they did and why their actions were so awful.

My bedroom door hung open, and as we walked through it, my eyes lingered on the lock. I’d watched enough shows to know the way Daddy had my room set up was unconventional. The lock to my door was on the outside, as was the light switch. When I was bad, he locked me inside, leaving me with no power and my only light from the sun during the day.

Daddy released me, finally, but he released me by shoving me away from him. I tripped on my own feet, tumbling to the floor. I looked up at him, eyes watering, and I opened my mouth to say something, but he shook his head at me, as if he could spit on me, and turned, walking away.

I heard the lock bolt on the door in the hall, shut in my bedroom with nothing but the sound of my racing heart and the light coming in from the moon outside. Hardly any light at all, really, but as I stared at the shadow of my door in the darkness, my eyes adjusted.

A single tear cascaded down my cheek, and I resisted my urge to fling myself at the door and cry for him, whimper and call for Daddy to let me out of here. He wouldn’t come back. He would only let me out when he believed I’d learned my lesson.

But the thing was, I already had, which was exactly why I didn’t bother going to the door and shouting for him, telling him over and over how sorry I was for doing what I’d done. I knew I’d done wrong, knew I never should’ve left Daddy’s side. I knew all this, so whining for him to let me out was pointless.

He’d let me out in time. I just had to get through it.

Time was a funny thing when you had nothing to occupy yourself with. When there was no TV, no games, and the world was too dark for books, what did you have besides your mind? I tried not to think too much, not as I changed out of the dress, not as I found my pajamas in the dark and went to my closet, curling myself in its corner, on the floor, my legs pulled in close to my chest.

Did I have some books in here? Yes, but passing the time with something I found pleasurable seemed like an insult to Daddy, and I tried not to do it, even when I had ample light. When he finally calmed down, when he would come in here and let me out, he’d find me right where I was. My body would ache and be sore from being so curled up, but it was a habit now.

And, even so, beyond being a habit, the utter darkness of my closet was the closest thing to true freedom I could get in here. My mind was the only safe place.

How could I hate disappointing Daddy so much, but also want something for myself at the same time? It seemed like a ridiculous paradox, something that couldn’t exist, but here I was, alone with my mind and a whole world I’d built inside of it.

In my head, the world out there wasn’t dark. It wasn’t full of people that would hurt me the first chance they had. It was full of good men and women, families who loved each other, friends who laughed and joked around at all times, and boys who were more like princes than anything else.

Only now, when I imagined my prince charming, I found myself picturing a man in a suit. A man whose height made my neck crane back anytime I wanted to look at him. A man whose face I couldn’t exactly see but knew in my heart: he was handsome. Handsome and gorgeous and warm. His name happened to be Markus, but beyond that, he had no similarities to the Markus I’d met at the party.

The true Markus would only be a disappointment. He’d want to hurt me. I couldn’t trust anyone out there in the world, and yet that truth did not stop my heart from beating a little faster as I imagined it.

The feel of his hand on my cheek. The pressure I felt beneath those eyes. Those things might lead a girl to imagine some inappropriate scenarios—but I was a good girl, and every time my imagination danced closer to a scene like that, I pushed it away. I would not let the world outside stain me. I was better than that.

At least, that’s what I told myself, but as the night turned into morning and Daddy had still not come to let me out, I found my mind drifting off, wondering if it would really be so bad—if it was immoral to want a man’s arms around me, to want to feel his skin against mine, to breathe him in and know he would do anything in the world to protect me.

Even though I doubted I would ever find one, I wanted my own prince.

Little did I know at that time I’d already met him… only his armor was not the sparkling white I thought it would be. It was black, as black as his eyes and his soul. My prince was no prince, you see, but the devil in disguise.

I knew that now. As I cradled myself in the pitch-blackness of the room, I knew that with unwavering certainty. To call Markus Scott a prince would be to insult all princes everywhere—and, by extension, all demons and devils.

He was the worst of the worst. Vile and vicious, the kind of man who didn’t care if he stained his hands with the blood of innocents. All because of me, to prove a point.

No, I could not forget the air in this room smelled awful, thick with metal and piss, because of me. It was all because of me, because I’d tried to run.

Stupid, stupid girl. There was no running. Once you were in the devil’s embrace, he didn’t let you go. He dragged you down to his level, tortured you, made you as miserable as you could possibly be, and then kept picking at you until there was nothing left.

And there would be nothing left of me by the time it was over.

I knew that. I knew it in my heart of hearts, the deepest, darkest part of me. I knew there would be no escape from him, from this house, from these men and their dark fascinations and fantasies. No running from whatever Daddy did or didn’t do; none of it mattered. You couldn’t rewind time. I was stuck here, hope dwindling inside me with each passing moment.

You know, I’d forgotten what it was like, being locked up. I’d been such a good, agreeable girl since the night after the party. I’d avoided getting locked inside my own room, steered clear of sitting in my closet like a frightened child trying to hide away from the world and its terrors. It was amazing how much you could regress, and how quickly, too.

For instance, I banged on the door, tried to call out to someone, anyone. To Markus, to Will, to anyone who could hear me; but no one could. The light in the hall stayed off, telling me no one was nearby. I was alone, as alone as I could ever be, trapped with a dead body and blood so thick and plentiful it stained my feet and my legs when I collapsed against the wall.

I’d cried. I’d rocked back and forth. I’d lost all sense of logical thought. In here, it was true darkness. Not a shred of light anywhere. No window to the outside world, no moon or sun telling me if hours or days had passed.

Time was impossible to keep, and I knew each minute gone by felt more like an hour, and each hour felt like a day.

I shouldn’t have run. I should’ve known, just like I should’ve known that night at the party not to leave Daddy’s side. It was a bad idea, and I wasn’t a bad girl. I was a good girl, someone who did what she was told. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this.

I felt like I was losing my mind. Slowly but surely, every bit of sanity in my body leaving me as time went on. My mind could not stop picturing the man who was now nothing but a corpse, how he’d looked with his guts spilled out, all that blood… the feeling of it on my hands, in between my toes.

It was not a good feeling, and even when I tried to picture it was something else, imagined it was just oddly thick water, my mind wouldn’t have it. I knew it was blood covering me, knew what the room would look like the moment the lights flickered on. I knew, and I was terrified to see it again.

All that blood. All that bright red, sticky blood. There was no way I’d be able to get it out of my pajamas—my clothes, the only ones I had with me that reminded me of home. I loved these fuzzy pajamas, and getting rid of them was the absolute last thing I wanted to do.

I supposed, then, it was a good thing I’d be forced to. If I got rid of the only thing that reminded me of home, maybe I’d stop thinking about it. Maybe I’d be forced to face the fact I might not ever leave this place alive. Markus Scott and his band of psychos had me by the throat, by the heart, by each and every part of me, and I would never be let go.

This house… I would die in it. I would die here, never knowing true freedom. Never knowing what it was Daddy did to anger Markus. I would meet my end here, and the worst part of it was I’d seen it coming.

I’d seen it coming, and I didn’t fight harder, didn’t try to run immediately. I’d known from the very beginning, deep down, I could never escape Markus and his reach. I was a fool for even trying to get out of this miserable place.

You would think the worst part was knowing. Knowledge itself was a scary thing, after all. Sometimes the mind simply could not handle knowing what it knew, and it broke. Minds were such fragile things, and even though there were some people out there who dedicated their entire lives to studying them, there was no definitive answer. Everyone was different. Every person in this world had a different breaking point.

Had I reached mine?

For me, the worst part wasn’t knowing I would die here. It wasn’t the hopelessness or the pain I felt inside my body, clutching me like a long-lost friend with bony, cold fingers. Not the fear in me that made my heart beat so fast it felt like it would explode right out of my chest. No, it was something else. Something much worse.

I hated Markus, and by extension, everyone in this house—but at the same time, I didn’t. I’d kissed Will, showed him my backside, dressed in one of the lacy underthings he’d bought for me. I’d egged him on, and it had felt good.

I was devastated when Jaxon had pushed me away after I’d kissed him, felt awful that he’d gotten hurt all because I’d refused to take the birth control Markus wanted me to.

And, the biggie: I hadn’t felt what I should’ve when Markus touched me, when he brought my body to the edge and back again. He’d been able to play my body like a fiddle, easily and effortlessly, and to say I felt shame about that was an understatement of epic proportions.

Daddy would be so disappointed in me if he knew everything these men were doing to me. He’d hate that I’d felt blood on my hands, but also that I’d kiss them, had an orgasm. He’d hate that they were defiling me, yanking me off the pedestal he’d placed me on the moment I was born.

But I was here because of Daddy, I reminded myself. He worked with Markus, somehow, and if this was what he did… if he killed people for a living and that’s how he’d been paying all our bills, could I really sit here and idolize Daddy in return? Did he deserve to be on a pedestal of his own, or was he just as bad as the men in this house? I didn’t know what to think, and I was afraid I already knew the answer.

The human mind wasn’t alone in its fragile state. Faith sat right next to it, as did hope. Both my faith and hope had cracked and shattered, and my shoulders felt heavy with the truth. How could anyone live knowing these things? Even if I managed to get out of this house with my life, how could I go on knowing men like Markus Scott existed?

Pointless to wonder, I knew, for the man would never let me go, not after I saw this basement. Not after I watched him kill. Not after he’d shown me that video of a man and a woman torturing and killing another woman. So many secrets I’d been shown, secrets I knew Markus would never let out into the world.

I couldn’t say how long it was. I couldn’t say if it’d been only a few hours or more, but the light in the hall flickered on. I sat in the corner of the room, away from the door, tucked as far away from the corpse and his blood as I could be, even though I already knew I was soaked in it. My knees were drawn up to my chest, and I leaned toward the wall, trying to block out the world.

This terrible, awful world.

Even the light from the hallway shining through the big window in the room wasn’t enough to make me pull myself away from the wall. I did close my eyes the moment it came on, though; too bright for me. Too bright after spending so long in the darkness. When you lost yourself in the dark, the light was simply ugly and blinding.

I tried to convince myself I was hallucinating—hallucinations would be better than reality at this point. If it was Markus coming back, he’d only come back to try to hurt me in other ways. He would never relieve this suffering. He didn’t care to.

The door unlocked, and its metal swung open, a loud creaking sound filling the air. I did not turn to look, didn’t even open my eyes to see who it was. I couldn’t imagine one of the others had come down here to get me, and I didn’t think Markus would give permission for them to do it, anyway.

Loyalty. That was all they cared about, wasn’t it? Jaxon couldn’t kiss me because he was loyal to the Scotts, even though he wasn’t technically one. Will was loyal, but he was edgy enough to want to keep secrets of our own. It was only a matter of time until Markus found out, I bet, and when he did, he’d punish Will like he’d punished me.

This place was a house of horrors, its demons men with handsome faces and warm touches. Its horrors were plentiful and gruesome, and only the strong could survive it. I didn’t think I was strong enough, even though I wanted to be.

The person who’d unlocked the door walked toward me, moving around the edge of the room, probably avoiding the spilled blood as best he could. I couldn’t tell who it was just by the way he walked or the sounds his shoes made on the tiled floor, but I didn’t dare to open my eyes.

Maybe this was all in my head. Maybe I was making it up, a prince charming coming to save his girl from being tortured.

No. Those men did not exist here. No heroes. Only villains.

I heard a sigh as the man knelt beside me. He did not move for the longest time, and even though I did not want to turn my head and look at him, that’s exactly what I did. Slowly, my face angled away from the wall, and I met the dark eyes of the cruel master of this house.

Markus.

His jaw was set, dark black stubble lining it. His gaze narrowed at me, as if he pondered whether or not I’d learned anything from this. He wore a different suit than he had before, the fabric pressed clean without a wrinkle, though he knelt beside me. His towering frame looked almost silly crouched down near me; however he still made me feel like a dwarf, a child, small and insignificant, totally unworthy of attention.

Why did I matter so much? Why not just kill me if that’s what he planned on doing? Why drag this thing out and make it last so long? Maybe Markus simply enjoyed being cruel for the sake of it, the affliction in his blood.

He said nothing, but he reached for me. Those strong, big hands of his stretched out to me, and if I was not already pressed against the corner of the room, in a ball as tiny as I could get, I would’ve shied away from them. I didn’t want those hands on me. Not after they’d done such terrible, awful things.

I wanted to fight him. I wanted to resist those hands, especially when I felt them curl around my bare arm and pull me closer to his chest. I wanted to hit him, to shout, to yell and ask him how he could do what he did and act so nonchalant about it—but in the end, I did nothing. My throat was too dry, my eyes heavy after being awake for so long, after watching a man die because of me. I said nothing at all as Markus cradled me against his chest and picked me up, uncaring about the blood on me and whether or not it got on his suit.

One arm held onto my back, the other curled around my legs. He picked my body up as he stood, as if I weighed nothing to him. And I probably didn’t. Markus took me out of the room, and the moment we stepped into the hall, I breathed in air that was relatively fresh, a heck of a lot fresher than the air inside that room.

My eyelids opened to slits, and I saw we passed two men, one taller, one short. The tall one had black hair like Markus, same eyes, too. The shorter one had red hair and freckles on his face. Neither man looked at us as we walked by, too busy with a cart of… cleaning supplies?

“Go get the cart for the body,” the black-haired one spoke, sounding gruff. His voice… it sounded familiar, like I’d heard it before, but I didn’t quite know where.

“No, I brought this one. You should’ve brought that one along yourself,” the redhead spoke. “This isn’t rocket science. You act like you’re new to this every fucking time—”

“Watch your tone with me, ginger,” the other man growled out, and then we were too far away from them to hear anything else, which was fine. I didn’t need to deal with any other men who could function normally while surrounded by blood and a dead body. No thanks.

I curled my face against Markus’s chest, wanting to block out the world and everyone in it. I could only imagine where he’d take me now, what he’d do with me. A part of me just wanted to tell him to do it already, to get it over with and kill me. Stop the suspense, don’t let it drag on too long.

But I kept quiet. I kept quiet, having no idea where he was taking me, especially since he brought me up and out of the basement—away from the dozens of torture chambers they had downstairs.

Markus breathed evenly, and I listened to the sound, wondering how the heart in his chest could beat so smoothly. Even though I was exhausted, I was pretty sure my own heart beat just as fast as it had before, when Markus had dragged me into the basement and shown me just how evil he really was.

Up a staircase we went, and after a few more minutes of walking in this house that never ended, Markus brought me to a bathroom. He was careful in setting me down, and my legs were too weak after being curled up for so long, so they immediately gave out, which caused me to slump on the toilet seat for support.

I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. When my eyes opened, I stared at the floor, at my own feet and the red staining them. Oh, I was certain I looked quite the sight, with my pajamas and skin discolored with blood.

Or maybe that was a sight Markus liked. Maybe he liked his girls covered in blood.

Markus went to the door, but he didn’t leave; instead, he shut it and turned to me. “Undress,” his rough, deep voice filled the room, an order from the man you never wanted to ignore. An order from someone you had to listen to or else.

The thing was, I didn’t want to undress. I didn’t want to move. A part of me still felt like I was trapped in that room in the dark, losing my mind.

His stare narrowed into a glare, and he moved toward me, jerking me back to my feet after grabbing my arms. I just barely was able to keep myself upright, and I found myself smacking his hands away the moment he tried to take off my pajamas for me.

I might feel awful, but I would not let him undress me.

Markus frowned at me, but once I started to fight back a little, his arms dropped to his sides, and he simply watched, as if wordlessly telling me, Then do it. The intensity in his gaze was unmatched; a power of his to make you feel small and insignificant anytime he looked at you. And I did. As Markus Scott stared me down with those black eyes, I felt as tiny and as unimportant, as trivial and stupid, as I’d ever been in my life.

And that was saying something.

I turned away from him, not wanting to see those eyes of his watch me as I undressed. My knees felt stiff and wobbly at the same time, my legs hard to control. It was as if curling into a fetal position against the wall for hours on end wasn’t healthy; go figure. You know what else wasn’t healthy? Killing people, but that didn’t seem to stop anyone here from doing it, especially the tall man behind me.

My eyes dropped to my pajamas, to the blood staining them. There would be no getting it out, no more fuzzy unicorn pajamas for me. Tears fought their way to the surface, for these things were the last items with me that reminded me of home, but I pushed the emotion back. I would not cry in front of Markus.

My fingers felt strange, my arms tingling as I started to shed my clothes. First thing that came off was my top, and I heard the fabric fall to the floor. The next thing I went for were my bottoms; that’s where most of the blood was, besides my skin. Even my neck had caked-on, dried-up blood thanks to Markus.

I didn’t know if I was in a trance or not; I hardly felt like myself. In a daze, the world didn’t feel quite right around me. It was like everything was fake, a lie, somehow, and I knew it. I was surrounded by demons and the lies they told, and I now knew there was no way out for me.

This was it.

This was it, and there was nothing I could do about it. I was pretty sure that was the worst thing. The helplessness. The despair. It was soul-crushing, for what was a person if they had no hope, no faith? What could any of us be if all we did was wallow in despair?

I didn’t want to take off my underwear or my bra, but I doubted Markus would let me crawl into that shower if any piece of clothing still hugged my body, so I swallowed my trepidation and reached behind me to unhook my bra. My arms were so stiff, I had trouble reaching it.

Something warm brushed my back, and I froze the moment I realized it was Markus. His fingers, really. His fingers softly grazed against the sensitive skin on my back to unhook my bra for me.

He stopped touching me immediately after it was unhooked, and as the straps loosened and fell over my shoulders, I couldn’t help but glance back at him, meeting those dark, devilish eyes. He continued to stare at me, his lips pulled into a frown, but beyond that, I couldn’t read the expression on his chiseled, handsome face.

Was he sorry for doing what he did? Did he regret showing me that, hate himself for locking me up down there?

No. A man like him never felt guilt for anything he did. He never apologized for anything. He was a man that took no prisoners and never regretted refusing to take the high road in life. He was infernal through and through, his hands bloody, even when they weren’t physically. He was terrifying.

And I was stuck here with him.

I turned my face away as I dropped my bra to the floor, my fingers hooking in the sides of my panties and tugging them down after. It was an odd thing, to be so exposed before Markus, and yet I did not feel as naked as I did before, when he’d had me in front of him, holding on to me, making me feel steel in my hand and the blood coating it. I’d take this over that any day.

“Get in the shower,” Markus’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I didn’t hesitate.

I got into the tub, stepping over it, careful to give him my back the entire time. I went to pull the shower curtain, and I only managed to pull it halfway closed. A strong hand caught it from closing all the way, and I saw Markus’s body had moved closer, peering into the space, leaning on the wall.

A sigh left me. He was going to watch me shower.

That shouldn’t surprise me at all. Whatever. I didn’t feel strong enough to fight him on that, so I simply turned away as I released my hold on the curtain to turn the water on. It took a few moments to get warm, and within a few more seconds, I had the water coming out of the showerhead above, pelting my head and instantly drenching me.

I stood there, eyes down, watching as the water coursed along my body. When it circled the drain, it was filthy, stained with the blood and dirt on me. I wished the water would do it all for me, clean me until I was baptized anew, but some of the blood on my skin was caked too deep, too dried. I’d have to scrub. I’d have to practically scrub off the top layer of skin just to get rid of it.

How badly I wanted to break down. How badly I wanted to close my eyes and wipe my mind of the memory. Knowing how a blade felt as it sank into skin… feeling the warm, stickiness of blood between your fingers and toes. None of it was knowledge I wanted. I was in hell, and it wasn’t even because I’d been bad. It was all because of Daddy.

Daddy. Daddy was the reason for all of this, and I still didn’t know exactly what he’d done to merit this. I was his most precious possession, his only family, so of course I was his weakness. I just didn’t know why Daddy didn’t come and try to save me from this. What was he doing that was so important, more important than getting me out of here?

Something in me snapped. I couldn’t say what it was, but my lungs trembled as I scratched at my own skin, where the blood didn’t come off. I rubbed my palms against myself, tried to get it all off. I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling as if I was unraveling. Every single part of me coming undone, getting destroyed.

None of this was right. It was all so wrong, and the man watching me from the back corner of the shower knew it. He knew I wasn’t made for this, and that’s why he’d done it. He knew exactly what to do to hurt me the most, and he had no problems doing it. The wheels in his head always turned, the gears in his mind alight with his machinations. You could never beat Markus Scott, for this was his game. He owned the board, the pieces, the air around us. You could never make your own move, only the moves he wanted you to, and if you tried to go against him, he came down with a hard fist and reminded you of your place.

I’d been such a fool for dreaming of him for so long. Such a pitiful, useless fool.

It took me a while, but eventually I got clean. Eventually the water circling the drain was not stained pink or a light brown color; it ran clear, and when it did, I watched it for a few moments, my skin burning; my neck especially. My little neck, which Markus always seemed so intent to hold onto.

Part of me wished he’d just choke me and get it over with.

“That’s enough,” Markus said. When I did not move, he came around to the other side of the shower, pulled the curtain aside enough to stick his arm in, and turned the water off for me. I was too out of it to turn away, and I met his dark eyes, catching him staring.

It was just a moment. Just a quick, fleeting moment that was over almost immediately, but I did. I saw how his dark gaze had dropped, how he looked at places on my body no one else ever had. A part of me still felt like I was a girl on display, a science experiment of sorts, and yet I wondered if he liked what he saw.

Will obviously did, but Will was a little different. Markus was… well, Markus was Markus. The two were utterly different. Like comparing apples and oranges; it was too hard to explain.

But, anyway, the moment was over practically before it started, and Markus looked away, pulling the shower curtain all the way to the side. I shivered, the parts of my body not rubbed raw from scrubbing cold. Markus got a towel off the wall and stretched it out for me, eyes once again on me as he held it open for me, waiting for me to step out of the tub.

This time his gaze didn’t drop to my body, but I supposed that ship had sailed now, anyway. If things were different, if I didn’t feel so… lost, I liked to think I’d have reacted differently. You know, other than just staring right back at him blankly.

I lifted a leg and stepped out of the tub, but the moment I lifted my other leg, I wavered on my feet. I didn’t lift it high enough; my foot caught the edge of the tub as I stepped forward, and I fell.

Markus caught me—or, rather, he caught me with the towel, his body strong where mine was not. His arms wrapped around me as he helped me right myself, the towel circling around me to dry me off.

He stood so close. So close I could smell him. His musky, woodsy scent. Couple that with the heat coming through his suit, and it was almost too much. I couldn’t look at him, for if I did, I felt like I’d lose my mind completely.

Or maybe I was already there.

I hated this man. I hated what he did to others, and especially what he did to me. I hated everything he stood for, so why did it feel so nice when those hands were on me? Was I that messed up in the head?

Markus released the towel once he was certain I had a good hold of it, and he said nothing as I dried myself off, now steady on my own two feet, thankfully. At least when that body of his wasn’t near mine, I could think straight. I could remind myself he was a monster and I should not be attracted to him in any way. An evil, vile, terrible monster who did equally horrific and unforgivable things.

I hoped he wouldn’t make me put on those bloody pajamas again, and he didn’t. Once I was dry and the towel was wrapped around me, he went to the bathroom door, unlocking it and opening it. He said nothing, and he didn’t have to. I walked past him, into the hall, goosebumps rising on my skin when my arm brushed his.

I needed to avoid him, I think. I needed to do everything in my power to never be alone with this man. I simply couldn’t trust myself, and I definitely couldn’t trust him.

Honestly, I shouldn’t be able to look at him. I shouldn’t even be able to stomach meeting his eyes or staring at that square jaw. Each and every part of him should repulse me. Who knew what else he’d do to me while I was alive, beneath this roof? A part of me already felt broken, but I was sure the man would figure something else out. He seemed like the cold, ever calculating type.

Not that I knew much about people, but still. After everything he’d done, everything he’d shown me, I liked to think I knew Markus Scott pretty well.

I followed Markus through the hall, and we stopped before my room. I saw light shining through the windows, and my heart leaped in my chest when I thought about how long I’d been down there. So long. Too long.

Markus’s tall frame towered over mine, and he slowly tilted his head, staring down at me. “If I were you,” he advised, the timbre of his voice practically one of a kind, the kind of voice that easily haunted your every waking moment and even in your dreams, the kind that crawled over your skin like sweet, deceiving honey and paralyzed you in place, “I would not try to run again. If you do—” He lifted a hand, and my breath came out all in a rush when he ran a finger along my cheek.

A soft touch, almost inviting. Strange coming from him.

“—you’ll be the one fixed to a chair, and I’ll let the men of this house have at you however they want,” he finished, and I knew he wasn’t lying, wasn’t trying to sugarcoat anything for me. He really would let them at me, and after seeing what he did in the basement, after watching that video, I could imagine what would happen to me easily enough.

There were different kinds of deaths, and that was not a death I wanted to seek out.

“I won’t run,” I whispered, every muscle in my body feeling stiff and tired. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to tuck my head beneath the covers—even though they weren’t mine—and sleep for eternity. Become Sleeping Beauty, and then maybe my prince would arrive to save the day.

But then… wasn’t the original fairytale a lot darker than the Disney version? Maybe I didn’t want that.

“Good,” Markus muttered, his hand falling away from my face. He said nothing else, so I took that as my cue to enter my room. I walked inside, brushing past him again—and again, walking a bit too close to him as I did so, which caused a shiver to surge up my spine.

The room felt foreign, like I hadn’t been here in ages, even though it was merely hours. Time, such a funny thing. An eternity could pass and feel like hours, or hours could pass and feel like an eternity. I guess it boiled down to what you did in that time, and me? I’d been locked in my own head, remembering the past. Almost like deja vu, but worse.

Once I stood in the center of my room, I hugged the towel closer to my body and turned to look at Markus. The man in a suit stood near my open door, not stepping a single foot inside. One hand sat in his pocket, while the other rested on the doorknob. Our eyes met, and my heart started to beat a little faster. If I could scold my heart for acting that way, I would.

Without another word, Markus turned away and closed the door, leaving me utterly alone. At least I wasn’t stuck in the basement anymore, with blood everywhere and the scent of piss in the air.

Oh, but back to what I was thinking before. I didn’t know much about people since I didn’t have experience with them, but Markus Scott? I knew him well enough now.

That man would be my ruin.