Ravaged By Passion

“Good. Come now. Watch your step.”

I stumble on some stairs, but eventually we climb slowly, and head inside. I don’t know where we are, but our footsteps echo, and the air conditioning is cool and clammy on my skin. More stairs, carpeted, this time leading down. I feel the softness under my sneakers. We reach the bottom, take more halls, the floor covered in tile, and eventually enter in through a doorway, then another doorway, and something clicks shut.

I stand there, not sure what to do. I don’t know where Benedict is. I try my wrists, but they’re still bound. I think I might be alone, dropped off in some room in the back of a hidden building not even Gavino knows about, when Benedict speaks.

I nearly jump out of my skin.

“I’m going to cut the ties on your wrists and take off the hood. If you make a sound, I will kill you.”

I stay very still. Gently, he releases me, until I’m standing there rubbing my wrists and blinking at the dull light.

I’m in a room. No windows, one door. A mattress on the floor. Beige carpet. I don’t know where I am and I don’t want to guess. It seems like it was built for a prisoner situation and the idea is repulsive.

“Sit,” Benedict says, standing near the door. “Wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“Speak again and I’ll cut you. Sit down.”

I obey and sit on the mattress.

He leaves, the door shuts, a lock clicks, and silence descends.

I sit on the mattress, not moving. It smells like mildew and body odor. I’m trembling, my teeth chatter, my toes are numb. I close my eyes, wrap my arms around myself, and cry so hard it feels like my chest is going to break in half.

This morning, I woke up in Gavino’s bed and was so excited to see him I could barely contain myself.

Now, tonight, I’m in some undisclosed location, sitting on a grubby mattress in a room no bigger than a walk-in closet.

I cry hard and for a while that’s all I can do. No thinking, no breathing, nothing, only sobbing for how far I’ve fallen. After ten minutes, or an eternity, it’s hard to say, I get myself together and slowly climb to my feet.

The door’s locked. The walls are barren. There’s nothing I can use to escape. Nothing beneath the mattress or in the crack between the edge of the mattress and the wall. There’s no pillow and no sheets. I’m alone, utterly alone, with an in-ceiling light blaring down on me.

I can’t cry again. I can’t give up. But what am I supposed to do?

The lock thunks open as I’m standing there at the far side of the room trying to talk myself into action. I back away and run into the wall as it opens. I expect Benedict or maybe Walter, but instead Malcolm enters, looking pleased.

He’s dressed like he’s on his way out to the club. Slacks, button-down shirt, hair slicked back. He’s wearing a gold necklace and a silver bracelet and an expensive watch. His smile is dazzlingly bright. He pauses, head tilted and sighs.

“Hello, daughter of mine.”

I nearly scream. I stare at him, all the words taken from my mouth. He closes the door behind him and remains standing there, watching me closely. I have a million things I want say but only one thing clicks into my brain.

I charge. I scream, feral, animalistic, and run at him. I slap for his face and turn my fingernails into claws, aiming for his eyes, screaming, mindless.

He backhands me so hard I drop onto the mattress and see stars in my vision. All my brutal energy is sucked away as my brain rocks my skull and I curl up, groaning.

He sighs and walks over to stand above me. “Are you through?”

“I hate you,” I say, blinking at him, dizzy. I think a tooth is loose. “I hate you so fucking much.”

“I bet you do.” He’s smiling like this is amusing to him. “You found some very interesting materials at Jimmy the bookie’s house. Did he give them over willingly? Doesn’t matter, he’s a dead man by now anyway.”

“No,” I manage to say, my throat choked with rage. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would and I did. Benedict went back to finish the stupid bastard off. I told him if he ever told anyone about the money, I’d kill him. And now I’m killing him.” Malcolm shrugs like it’s no big deal.

Jim, poor Jim, with a family and children. That poor bastard walked away and wanted to be left alone, but he gave me the information because he thought I was with Gavino.