Usually, studios are filled with natural light and the sun shining through the windows. I guess it’s a perfect metaphor for his work as Aiden’s is in the basement, enveloped in darkness and a putrid smell of something rotting.
He has all of his supplies here, and all day … he paints me.
He won’t show me the paintings, but from his evil grin I just know I wouldn’t like them if I saw them. Remembering the last
time I saw one of his paintings of me sends shivers down my spine. It was dark, twisted and bloody, my body contorted and broken in unnatural ways only a sick mind could come up with.
While he paints, he talks to me.
He tells me how successful he is under a fake name. Earns millions. With a wicked smile, he tells me Blane and I go to many of his exhibitions, not even knowing it’s his. And he’s even more pleased to inform me that he was behind the raffle that got us tickets to this hellish paradise. He brought us right into his lair, and we didn’t suspect a thing.
Marissa is like his servant, bringing us food and almost kissing the floor he walks on. Their whole relationship is disturbing and I try hard to talk to the girl, but I’m gagged and bound for most of the time, unless I’m eating. When I am, Aiden holds a knife to my throat to stop me from screaming out loud, my tears mixing with the stale food they feed me.
I hate the fact that my worst nightmare has become a reality.
I let the darkness take me, and spend time in a state of semi-consciousness, not even fighting the currents that are pulling me under. I know I won’t last long, even though he hasn’t touched me, tortured me … But I know it’s coming.
And when it does, I don’t want to be here anymore.
Hope comes in the shape of a knock on the door, so loud I can hear it from the basement. My hopeful eyes shoot up, but Aiden immediately yells for Marissa to get it, coming closer to me and pressing that well-known silver blade against my throat.
“Not a word,” he hisses in my ear, and I whimper softly, listening to the conversation upstairs.
I hear the door opening and Marissa’s voice speaking next. “Can I help you?”
“Hello, Ma’am,” a man’s voice comes through. “Don’t mean to bother you. Just wanted to let you know a woman’s gone missing from the island. Have you seen anyone around here?”
“No, not at all,” Marissa feigns ignorance. I start thrashing in Aiden’s arms, but he presses the blade closer and I feel it cutting my skin, gasping against the gag in my mouth.
“Told you,” Blane whispers in my ear. “You let them see you, you’re gone.”
I turn deathly still in his arms, the tears of humiliation burning my cheeks as they stream downward.
The conversation upstairs becomes muted and we sit there for what seems like ages until I hear Marissa saying goodbye and she comes down the stairs quickly.
“Didn’t suspect a thing,” she says triumphantly, her eyes feverish with the need to please Aiden. “We’re off the hook! He had no idea.”
Aiden finally lets go of me and I tumble to the floor like a sack while he walks over to Marissa, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss against her mouth. It’s the first sign of affection I’ve seen him show her since that display on the beach, which I’m now sure was just for my benefit.
Then, he slowly turns towards me, and his eyes are burning with a new desire. My heart blackens with soot as I realize what he has on his mind.
“Now, Emme,” he says softly, a grin splitting his face into a grotesque mask of horror. “It’s time to play, wouldn’t you say?”
Chapter 6
The days are passing, and no one comes for me. I don’t understand it at all, and keep hoping someone will remember to check this house, find something that leads them to believe I really am here. But it just doesn’t happen.
Aiden is insane, I’ve come to realize this now and once and for all. The slightest thing will throw him off guard. I’m getting sick in the damp and cold basement, and once, I sneezed while he was painting me. It sent him in an insane rage and he tore the canvas he was working on, before coming towards me, his fists ready to strike.
He seemed to calm down some when I raised my hands in front of my face to protect myself. “Don’t,” he told himself, his voice painfully raspy. I think it was the first thing he said that day, being too caught up in his art and his mad mind. “Mustn’t hurt her. Need her perfect.”
He still punished me, though. Because I sneezed and interrupted his creative process, I was left without food for an entire day. All I got was water.
The food I get is sparse anyway, and I ended up passing out with the pains of my rumbling stomach. I woke up hours later, or at least what felt like that. There’s no telling what time it is in this dungeon I’m kept in.
I tried hard to connect with Marissa, but she always refused to meet my eye. I finally see my chance when she comes in with some food and Aiden is out somewhere, so it’s just the two of us.
I see my chance and my voice is raspy when I call out to her. “Marissa,” I say pleadingly.
She completely ignores me and I reach for her hand hesitantly, my fingers trembling as I grasp her wrist. It’s one of the few days when I’m not gagged and I know this might be my only chance.
“Marissa, we need to get out of here,” I say finally, hot tears already streaming down my cheeks. “We can get help … You and me, we’ll do it together. We don’t have to suffer like this.”
She actually ponders my words for a moment, and for a second I think I’ve gotten through to her and she might actually consider helping me. But then, she rips her hand away from mine and slaps me so hard I fall back on the stained mattress.
“Don’t touch me,” she hisses at me, but her bottom lip is trembling and I think she’s on the verge of crying, too. “Don’t ever touch me. Aiden is right … he’s always right.”
Why does your sentence sound like a question, then? I wonder sadly.
I don’t have a chance to say anything else after that, and when Aiden returns, I immediately know she told him what I said. He storms down the stairs and as soon as he reaches me, he slaps me, too. My cheek is still burning with the impact Marissa’s hand made on me and now it stings even more. I curl into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest. I’ve never felt more hopeless in my entire life.
Aiden is strange today. He doesn’t paint, just pulls up a chair next to me and stares at me. Every so often, he runs a finger down my skin, taunting me. It scares me more than when he’s painting, because at least he’s taking it out on the canvas, not me. And as the day goes on, I feel the tension building up in the room. I know he’s going to explode, and I’m dreading the consequences of one of us setting him off.
Finally, what seems like hours of being watched later, Marissa comes downstairs with a tray of food. When she’s coming down the stairs though, she trips on the last one and goes down, the tray of food flying in the air.
It’s like time froze still. Marissa is tumbling down the stairs, and at one point, her horrified eyes meet mine as she falls. We connect in that moment, and as she lands on the floor, her eyes still on mine, I see her mouth a sentence to me.
It seems like she is saying Help me. And that breaks my heart into even more shattered pieces. But it’s nothing compared to what happens next, what I know will haunt me for the rest of my life.
The tray rattles to the floor, the sound echoing in the room. But the food that was on it splatters everywhere. It stains Marissa’s clothes and some of it lands on the canvas which is positioned in front of the stairs. What is more, when Marissa lands on the floor, she ends up taking the easel down with her, ripping the canvas as she grips on for something to hold.
What follows is an incredibly tension filled few seconds.
Aiden is still facing me and I’m there to see the expression change in his face. One moment, he’s focused and deep in thought. Then, it’s as if his eyes froze with evil. He turns around ever so slowly, taking in the sight in front of him.
Another painting, ruined.
Food everywhere.
Marissa on the floor.
All of it combined sets him off and my heart stops in my chest when he advances towards Marissa, reaching her in a few long steps.
His hands wrap around her throat and he raises her in the air, his hands choking her. Her eyes connect with mine, the horror the only emotion left in them. I gasp lightly, scrambling to get off the mattress
and come help her, but I’m still tied up.
Still clutching her throat, Aiden comes for me and kicks me back on the mattress. I take a sharp intake of breath as the force sends me plummeting, the sharp kick to my ribs knocking out all of my fear, but unfortunately, just for a moment.
Marissa uses the distraction to her benefit and fights out of Aiden’s arms, running for the stairs. But he’s too quick for her, catching her on the second stair and grabbing her like she weighs nothing.
“Aiden, please!” she yells out, tears streaming down her face as he drags her downward. “Aiden, I love you. Don’t hurt me … You know I’d do anything for you! Anything!”
He positions her in front of the easel and makes her look at the mess in front of her.
“Look at what you did,” he says softly, too calm for my liking. “Look at this mess.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whimpers, stopping the struggle between them. She’s compliant, soft, just like he wants her to be. “I’ll clean everything up. I’ll make it up to you. I love you so much, Aiden …”
He looks at her face long and hard. And it makes what happens next that much worse, because I know he took the time to think about what he is going to do.
With full force, he smashes Marissa’s head against the concrete floor. I hear her scream and I know I’m screaming, too.
So much noise. So much.
It hurts my head.
But I still watch.
I watch until she goes limp in his arms, her head a gaping hole of blood.
He drags her body towards me, dropping her in front of me so her empty eyes stare straight into mine. It’s like I’m hypnotized - I can’t look away. I look into the gaze of the woman whom he killed, the woman who was a person just a few seconds ago, but is now a dead body.
“Look what you made me do!” Aiden screams at me. “You stupid bitch … You’ll get what’s coming now.”
He storms out of the basement and I’m left stunned and horrified with a corpse staring me accusingly in the eyes.