Black Rose

Nice guys

The silence was suffocating.

She picked me up off the ground and wrapped me in a soft towel from a bench nearby. Then she led me back through the basement to the bedroom. She didn't say a word. I wanted to speak, to break the quiet, but I didn't have the strength. When I tried, all that came out were strangled sobs.

She stroked my hair and hushed me, breaking the silence. "It's okay, Ophelia. You're okay. Just rest now."

She sat me down and left for a moment, before returning with the dress I had been wearing before. "Here," She said, handing it to me. "I'm sorry, I would have gotten you something clean, but I didn't want to leave you too long."

I just wordlessly put it on, thankful to have a little more coverage. When I was dressed, Gwen lifted the sheets on the bed and helped me under the covers before tucking me in. I was still crying, silent tears running down my cheeks. She gently brushed tendrils of damp hair from my face.

"You're alright, Ophelia. He's gone, you're safe, and I'm right here." Then, she gently took my hand above the sheets.

Gradually, with her knelt on the floor beside me, I stopped crying. Ashamed of my meltdown, I avoided her eyes and trained my gaze on the ceiling. She didn't mind. She just kept holding my hand, staring vaguely at the sheets of the bed.

After a few minutes, she let my hand go and stood up to leave. I sat up, a knot rising in my chest at the thought of being alone.

"Wait, Iris. Don't go." I said, my voice weak and shaky.

She stopped and looked back at me, her face creased in a complicated expression that I had no hope of understanding. The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity until finally, she nodded. I didn't bother hiding my relief.

"Will you stay with me?" I whispered.

She hesitated, then nodded and stepped across to me. She sat on the edge of the bed, and lifted a hand to gently comb her fingers through my hair.

"I'll stay as long as you need me."

I slowly lifted my own hand and moved hers away.

"Don't make it weird," I muttered defensively.

She chuckled. "Sorry. Motherly instincts."

I shook my head and we fell into a still silence. After a moment, I built up the courage to speak.

"Can we talk about it?" I asked.

She frowned. "About what?"

I hesitated. Then, my voice low, I replied, "What happened... upstairs. What I heard you say to Blake about me. And... the lamp."

Her hand, which had been resting on the sheets beside me, curled up into a fist. She didn't respond for a moment, and when I glanced at her, she looked like she was close to crying.

"Gwen?" I said tentatively. "It's okay, I'm not accusing you of anything. I just want to know... why?"

Her knuckles were turning white. In a pained voice, she spoke.

"I'm sorry, Ophelia. But I can't-" her voice broke. "I can't talk about it right now. Not... that."

Confused, I looked away, training my eyes on the wall opposite. "That's okay."

We fell into another silence and this time, it felt more tense. So, I tried to diffuse the tension.

"Tell me something else then. You told me before that you weren't... taken like I was. How did you meet Blake?"

At this, she softened. She gave me a small smile.

"I was working in the local library, after school. He was always there, studying. He started flirting with me, and it grew from there."

I tried to hide my shock. That didn't sound like the Blake I knew. What was the catch?

"He invited me out for coffee, and I was hesitant but jumped at the chance. We had a good time. He teased me for ordering a hot cocoa. Then we went to his car, drove to a secluded spot, and he kissed me."

She chuckled, looking down at me. "Afterwards, he said his mouth tasted like chocolate powder."

I tried to smile back but it didn't come. I couldn't smile at this feel good story about how romantic my kidnapper was.

"We started dating, and it was great. We were secretive about it, but I liked it. I thought about him all the time. So much so that I started tanking school, doing poorly. My teachers noticed but I couldn't help it. I didn't care about school anymore. I had planned to go to a college interstate but by the time admissions came around I just got a sea of rejections. Blake, he said it was okay. That he would offer me a job instead of going college."

Okay, now something really didn't add up. How can I high school kid be offering someone a job?

Then it all clicked into place with what Gwen said next.

"Besides, he had hated college anyway when he did it, so why should I have to go through the suffering as well?"

Oh shit.

"Gwen," I interrupted, my voice shaky. "How old was Blake when you two started dating?"

She squirmed and looked away. Talking quickly, she said, "Wait, it wasn't like that, he's not a pervert–"

"Gwen," I snapped. "How old was he?"

In a small voice, looking at my feet, she replied. "Nineteen."

"And how old were you?" I said, my voice stern.

She didn't reply.

"Gwen. How old were you?"

The silence weighed over us, and I knew she didn't want to answer. Because she knew it wasn't right. So when she spoke, her voice was shaky and quiet.

"I was fourteen."

Jesus Christ.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I cried out.

"Keep your voice down," she hissed.

I shook my head. "He's a predator, Gwen. Why the hell are you going on about how romantic he is?"

"Because he is! He's a nice guy, I swear, Ophelia—"

I cut her off.

"Nice guys don't kidnap girls, Gwen."

She went quiet.

And all of a sudden, I was crying. I hadn't even realised the tears welling up until they fell. I let out a shaky breath and buried my face in the sheets, feeling overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry," Gwen said gently.

I felt her stand up.

"I'm gonna go. Let you sleep. I shouldn't have upset you."

I didn't look at her as she took her leave. In fact, I didn't move at all for a few minutes.

I just let myself collapse into tears, unable to stop them.

Eventually, the tendrils of exhaustion drew me into a restless sleep.