Babies For the Billionaire

Part Twelve

©Birdy Stewart, 2014

I awoke to a pin-prick in my arm and my eyes flew open. I wasn’t in the babies’ nursery, nor my bedroom I shared with Rafe. The walls that surrounded me were dark from the lack of sunlight--or any kind of light--and bore no wall hangings, yet I could make out were some had hung before, as if they had been removed. Several sheets blocked all of the windows, effectively blocking all light as well. No lamps, save one upturned on the floor, seemed to be in the room either. The door had multiple locks and chains attached to the hard, thick wood, and a chair was propped under the knob as well. It seemed as if whoever this room belonged to, they liked their privacy. And they wouldn’t appreciate any shape or form of disruption.

I wiggled my body on what I could now feel as an overly cheap box spring bed. Something pricked on the inside of my left arm again and I shifted my eyes down towards it. A needle poked out of my pale skin, with a makeshift tube connecting it to a bag of murky liquid. My gaze followed my arm down to see the wrist in a white zip-tie that wrapped around the tall leg of the nightstand. I suddenly became aware of the snug fit of identical zip-ties on my opposite wrist and ankles. I expected my heart rate to peak, my breathing to hitch as my brain panicked, but it didn’t. My heart and breathing remained slow and calm--more than calm…sleepy, almost. It only caused my conscience to panic even more.

I attempted sitting up, but as I struggled, a shadow moved out of the corner of my mind and my eyes snapped up to see Keith approaching my bed that was bare of any sheets, his lips twisted into a sick, menacing grin.

“Stay aware from me,” I warned, fearing the safety of my unborn children, but my voice came out slurred and unfamiliar. I knew what he was capable of. I’d been the victim for so many years, I could never wish that upon my babies--not in a million years. Keith’s drunken laugh met my ears and I frowned at the memories it shot through my mind.

“Or what, Ella? You’ll…” he paused, trying to get the words out as he stumbled closer, “Kill me? Looks like you’ve got yourself in a little… pickle?” Keith’s rugged hand brushed up against my cheek in a caress. “I remember how much you love pickles. Was it really months ago when you begged me to go to the market and by you chocolate and pickles because you and the baby just craved them so much?” His hand traveled from my cheek and rubbed over my expanded abdomen, touching the only barrier I possessed between him and the twins. I flinched away.

“I never said that.” I snapped. “I haven’t spoken to you since we broke up and I moved away, Keith.” The man’s evil-tainted. content smile quickly morphed into a snarl.

“We never broke up, Ella. I let you have your space when you drove here to see your old friend.” He moved closer. “Now it’s time for us to go home.” I moved my head to the side as he tried to pet my face again.

“No, Keith. This is my home now. With Rafe and Val--”

“No!” He yelled, his fist crashing down on the bed just inches away from my face. “I’m your home! Where ever I am is where you belong!” At the fear in my eyes, Keith’s face softened slightly. “It’ll be just you, me, and Kenny.”

“Kenny?” I questioned. Keith nodded.

“You, me, and my son, Kenny. We can all fit in my apartment,” He insisted but my heart stopped at his words, despite whichever drug he was feeding into my system.

“There you go again Keith.” I snapped. “This is one of the many, many reasons why I left. You think everything of mine is your’s--”

“What are you trying to get at, Ella?” He put emphasis on the nickname he’d given me years ago.