Black Rose

Long day.

Rose.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to look away. I would have to ask Blake or Gwen if I could have it bandaged again. The last thing I wanted was for it to get infected, and if it was covered, then I could just pretend it wasn't there.

I let out a sigh and wearily looked across at the pile of clothes he left out for me. I was thankful to see that he'd left me underwear and a bra, but surprised and a little concerned to notice that the bra he had left me looked identical to a bra I already owned at home. How was it that he knew not only my size, but my preference in bras?

The thought made me shiver, and I did my best to ignore it.

I climbed out of bed and grabbed the clothes, then stumbled out of the room towards the bathroom. My head spun a little, but already I was regaining some strength, and my head was clearing.

I made it to the bathroom and dropped my stuff on the bench, then clambered into the shower and turned it on. The warm flow of water washed over my skin and I let myself relax, and closed my eyes.

With my eyes closed, I was reminded of the darkness, of his hands on my skin, and an aching pain emanating from my core.

I snapped my eyes back open and took a deep breath in an attempt to quell my beating heart.

I tried to distract myself, but my mind just kept going back to him. After a few minutes, I let out a sigh of frustration and turned the water off.

At some point, someone had replaced the towels, and a clean white one had been hung along with the rack. I pulled it off and quickly patted down my skin, before turning to the pile of clothes Blake had given me.

Along with the undergarments, he'd gifted me with a pair of tight Lycra exercise shorts and a red mesh top. When I pulled it all on, as strange as it was, I couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious. Despite that, I was finally back in clothes, and my skin was covered, I felt exposed and guilty.

The shorts barely covered my underwear, and the top was almost entirely see-through, exposing my stomach.

I bit my lip as I stared at the ensemble, feeling self-conscious, then swallowed the lump in my throat and looked away. I tried to remember my life, my old life, before Blake. I tried to remember Jordan tracing her eyes over my skin, her lips on mine. I tried to remember what I felt like when she told me I was beautiful.

But I couldn't feel it again. I couldn't remember.

I blinked away tears and collected myself, steeling myself to head to the gym room. I wouldn't let him see me cry. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

Managing to get my emotions in check, I pushed open the door and wandered up the hallway.

Blake was already standing by the treadmill, waiting for me. He looked over my outfit briefly, then shook his head, annoyed. "Quit dawdling, my Rose. You kept me waiting, so now I am not happy. Get on the treadmill."

I gulped, and did as told. "Sorry." I muttered as I climbed onto the machine, then felt bad about feeling guilty. Why was I letting him manipulate me?

He shook his head. "That is sorry sir to you. Don't let it happen again."

I nodded numbly and took a deep breath. Blake reached over and pressed some buttons, and the machine started up.

I stumbled and began walking with the machine, my mind casting back to the last time I had done this, of my own accord. I wondered if he knew what I had done.

"This will gradually speed up over ten minutes. I want you to keep up with it, and not turn it off. If you do, I'll know. I'll be back once it's over."

I nodded numbly, and he took one last look over my body before turning to leave. I swallowed the lump in my throat and focused on the machine. As it gradually sped up, I tried to formulate a plan of action. I needed to get out, and escape, before Blake hurt me again, or worse, before I hurt myself.

I couldn't imagine what it would be like for Gwen, living in his hell for god knows how long, having to protect a child. I needed to help them escape too.

Except they were where my planning hitched. I had no way of knowing how old her son was, or whether he would even be willing to go. Maybe he wouldn't want to leave Blake. Maybe, beyond this basement, Blake really was a nice and caring guy, a good dad.

Nice guys don't kidnap girls.

I stumbled as the machine picked up the pace again, and almost tripped, but managed to catch myself and keep running. I let out a sigh. Already the exhaustion was showing, and I felt weak and tired. I wanted to stop, to get off the treadmill and ease the pain. But I knew I couldn't. Blake would punish me if I did. I was sure of it.

"Rose!"

Blake's sharp voice cut me out of my haze and I looked up at him and blinked. My vision was blurred with tears. I hadn't even noticed I started crying.

He turned the machine off.

His face creased into a look of concern. "Oh, my rose... come here."

He gently grabbed at my wrist and pulled me into his arms. I let myself fall into his chest, even though I didn't want to accept his comfort. I cried into his blouse, and let myself break down. I felt his hand in my hair, and his voice softly whispering into my ear.

"It's okay, my Rose. You did it. You did it. It's okay."

In his arms, the voice was gone. When he was around, I was sane. My sobs eased, and my breathing grew even. Blake slowly pulled away, and I stepped back, feeling calm.

I hated that he could do that to me. I hated that somehow, he made me feel calm.

And I hated it more when the proud smile he gave me filled me with warmth.

"I'm so proud of you, my rose. You've come so far so quickly." He rubbed my shoulder with his big hand. "In fact, I think you deserve a treat for your progress."

He smiled, and I couldn't help the excitement in my chest, the hope that maybe he would give me a morsel of food, or freedom, or even a chance to contact my family.

He grabbed my hand and led me out of the gym. I was expecting him to take me towards the kitchenette, but to my surprise, he pulled me into the opposite room to the gym, a room strewn with bean bags and bookshelves. Confused, I followed him as he looked over the shelves, searching. He seemed to find the book he was after because, after a few moments, he let out an 'ah-hah!' and pulled a book from the shelf.

He then turned to me and held it out.

I stared down at it, feeling disappointed that this was my treat.

It was a worn and battered paperback book, black and plain, with faded gold trimming and serif lettering, reading the collected works of Edgar Allen Poe.

Blake chuckled. "Oh, go on, my rose. Take it. It won't bite, I promise."

I tentatively did as told and took the book from his hands. He smiled at me.

"It's my favourite. One of the greatest writers of humankind, I believe. This is my old copy, and I want you to have it. Read it, then read it again. We can talk about it together, and I can ask you what you think!"

I slowly nodded and looked up at him. He smiled and rubbed at my arm.

"Well then, I'll leave you to it, and I'll be back down tonight for dinner."

Then, without a moment of hesitation or warning, he leaned down and kissed me.

I didn't even have the chance to react before he had pulled away, and turned to leave.

"Goodbye, my rose."

"B-bye." I stuttered, still feeling the ghost of his lips on mine. He smiled at me one last time, then left, shutting the door behind him. I stood still for a moment, just processing what had just happened. Then, finally, I pulled myself from shock and looked down at the book. It was easily two inches thick.

I let out a sigh.

It was going to be a long day.