Caged (Savage Men 1)

Because he doesn’t respond to this man outside watching us.

I look at him then back at the man lurking around, and I can’t help but notice he doesn’t even seem to care.

What is going on?

Frowning, I try to get his attention, but the man in the cage doesn’t seem to be interested in me anymore. All he does is stare at the other man outside and wander around.

Who are they?

Suddenly, the man is right beside me with only the thick glass separating us, and I’m spooked.

For an instant, I forgot to keep an eye on him while I was staring at my cage companion, and now this scary man is inspecting me from up close.

“No need to be afraid …” he hums.

His voice is soft but slimy. Totally not like the other guy’s gruffness.

He cocks his head. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

I narrow my eyes and cringe from the way he seems so interested in me, despite being the man who’s outside the cage, not in.

He must be the one who took me from my home.

The one who keeps us here.

I just stare.

His eyes narrow too, and he focuses on my forehead. “You’re bleeding. Must’ve been from the trip. You put up quite the fight. I even had to restrain you while driving.” He smiles again. “We’ll get that wound taken care of.”

The word ‘we’ makes me shiver. But why can’t I remember anything about the whole ordeal? Must’ve been the drugs in the cloth he held against my mouth. Or maybe he gave me something else too so I’d finally calm down.

“Tell me your name,” he says.

My lips part, ready to answer, but my voice is as hollow as his heart.

The only thing that follows is silence.

“Not the talkative type, are you?” he muses after a while. “Doesn’t matter.”

He wanders around the cages again, seemingly checking every nook and cranny. I wonder if he’s testing whether his contraptions will hold up.

“So … since you won’t talk, I’ll start. You can call me Graham. Nice to meet you, Ella.”

Just the mere mention of my name makes my eyes widen.

How does he know?

I glare at him, absorbing his facial expressions and posture, but no matter how hard I look, he doesn’t seem remotely familiar. I don’t know him, so then how does he know me?

“I take it you’ve already made yourself at home?” he asks, giving me that creepy smile again.

I don’t answer, but I don’t look away either. I want him to see me. I want him to look at me and me alone. I want him to feel the pain that I feel. Maybe one day I’ll make him feel.

“Good.” He nods a few times even though he’s conversing entirely with himself. I wonder what the purpose of his visit is. If he’s checking to see how I’ve settled in. If he’s figuring out a way to make me talk. Or if he’s just trying to make me feel uneasy. Whatever it is, it’s working all right.

I’m waiting for his next words, but then he suddenly turns and starts walking.

I can’t let him leave.

I have to know why I’m here.

So I bang on the glass as hard as I can … as fast as I can.

The sudden noise makes my neighbor home in on me like a drone. The look on his face switches between shock and worry, causing me to instantly regret what I just did. What if the man who just froze in his tracks flips out?

Pulls me from my prison?

Hurts me?

Murders me?

Shivers run up and down my spine as I slowly lower my hand, hoping he didn’t hear.

But of course, he did.

Because he’s turning around and walking back to me. He wears pure determination in his eyes. The kind that could make you scream. But I can’t. No matter how much I wish I could.

Right in front of the glass, he stops.

We stare at each other for what feels like minutes before I finally gather the courage to do something about my questions. The desire to know is greater than the desire to stay safe. I’m already in danger just by being here. And answers to my questions may just be my way out.

So I slowly raise my hand and point at myself.

He purses his lips. “You want to know why you were chosen?”

I nod.

A wicked smile spreads on his face. “You’ll find out soon.”

Before I can make him tell me more, he’s turned around and walked off.

Chapter Four

Accompanying Song: “Theoretically” by Kyle Dixon & Michael Stein

Ella

The first night, I don’t sleep at all.

It’s horrid. Being here. As if the world has suddenly disappeared to be replaced with a black void. The only thing I have is my memories, and I often just shut myself off and go there just to feel secure.

But I’m not.