The Beast

Chapter 42

I tucked my knees into my chest, wrapping my arms tightly around them. Resting my face on the tops of my knees, staring into the large room from where I sat on the floor, leaned against the leg of a large chair. It was as if my eyes could see, but my mind was unable to register what the eyes took in, my mind was off into a dark oblivion, something so restless yet so peaceful I didn't know whether to stay or fight to get out. Fight to break myself out of this self implemented trance. But whether it was safe or not to allow myself to think was another question, one that kept me from finding out. It seemed every time my mind was given a choice it chose to torture me with thoughts of what I'd seen. Horrid memories of his brutality plagued my dreams, corrupting them until they were only my nightmares. My own thoughts had become my demons, but how was one to escape the monsters when they were in your head.

That was the difference between the bliss of childhood, and the miseries of adulthood. Your monsters no longer reside under your bed, but cackled within the depths of your own mind, never to be released, impossible to be ignored. A part of me would always wish I hadn't seen, I didn't know, but I loathed that part, for it connected straight with my heart. My heart wasn't one to be listened to, the heart was foolish, it was naive, it could give great happiness but cause the worst of miseries, sunk us into an abyss so deep hope seemed far away, unreachable. Perhaps that's where I was now, so far in the abyss I couldn't see the rays of hope, that used to shine everywhere.

I'd been trapped in this room for several days now. I'd refused to come out despite his incessant begging, sometimes even bargaining. On the first morning he refused to leave, knocking on my door, calling my name gently, pleading for me to come out and give him a chance to explain. Trying his best to make me open that door just once for him, but I refused. Soon his will began to dwindle and it became a matter only of my meals. He begged for me to just open the door enough for him to slide in a tray of food, but like all his other attempts this too got no response. By nightfall he'd realized I'd rather starve than open that door.
"Raine, I'll be in my room, I promise I won't try to come in, I'm leaving something to eat here, let me know if you want something else. Just please Raine, eat something, go to the kitchen if you'd like I'll stay in my room, I won't even come near you." He says, his deep husky voice getting quieter as he speaks, cracking slightly as he speaks of staying away.

As time went on, his visits grew more infrequent and before my room was always one of his cronies. They paced around the home occasionally knocking on the door and asking if I wanted anything, to which they always got no response, the rest had given up but James still tried. He had been the one to give me the bag I'd dropped that night back, letting me know the plan on my phone had been cancelled. They didn't wish for their prisoner to contact anyone.

They'd begun to get me videos of my lessons, and assigned work from my classes which they would leave outside my door with trays of food. I'd tried to leave the home more then once, but always was stopped, Xavier's men would simply stand in front of the doors staring straight at me. It was usually James babysitting me along with a few other men and he would attempt to coax me into speaking to Xavier, but I refused. James would apologize for my predicament but tell me it was necessary and I would go back into my room, locking the door behind me. They made me uncomfortable to the extent of fear, they'd just stood there while Xavier brutally killed a man, and only the lord knows what the rest of his men did. What the rest of them had witnessed, and not spoken a word of. Hopefully they'd all get bored of me if I wouldn't speak, and perhaps allow me to leave.

Every night in the past few days Xavier would without fail be at my door. Speaking to me gently, but he had always been quiet. Even  in his silence I could feel him there, feel his presence, that had once coloured me with warmth. I could feel him right outside my door, hear his soft steady breaths, he slept out there every night. Right outside my door, perhaps in hopes that I would open up the door, and give him a chance. Allow him to twist up what I had seen with my own eyes, justify what I had witnessed. But I couldn't, not after what I'd seen, now when he starred in my every nightmare. But the trouble that plagued me most was that it wasn't only in my nightmares that I saw him, he was also a part of the sweetest of my dreams.