"How does that feel?" Evan asked, looking down at me. I couldn't answer back to him since my tongue was pushed down by a cold metallic object. It served as a gag of some sort – not allowing me to talk back to him or speak anymore hate speech...about him, or his family.
Or about killing myself.
The cold metal pushed down on my tongue while the gag was tightened as the locking mechanism went around to the back of my head.
I heard a lock fasten into place, preventing me from being able to remove it with my hands. It felt uncomfortable around my mouth and my tongue was beginning to cramp by being forcibly placed in the same position.
Instead of answering, I settled on glaring at him.
How does it feel-?
It feels like I'm being forced to be silent!
"Natalie," he uttered in a dark, warning tone.
I glared even harder, raising up a middle finger in front of him. I wanted to show him just how angry and pissed off I was becoming, not wanting to be gagged in the first place. He firmly took my outstretched wrist with his right hand, reaching for something else behind him.
He had picked everything that he wanted to torture me with off of the walls -- there had been different types of gags and restraining devices. I thought I could see something that might be placed around someone's head in the very back of the room...
It reminded me of the Middle Ages. They all looked like they could be devices to inflict pain on someone from the renaissance period, and I didn't even want to know how old some of these things were.
I didn't want to be here.
"I warned you," I watched him, taking a step away, even though I knew it would be useless. The urge to get as far away as I could from the man that was in front of me was overwhelming -- and I acted on it before I could even think it completely through or come up with a good escape plan.
He still had my wrist captive in his hand, causing him to pull me closer to him. My feet skidded across the floor, and even if I placed weight on my heels to try and make things difficult, it didn't matter since Evan overpowered me.
I watched him intensely, wondering what he was reaching for now. He brought out a pair of leather cuffs, which caused my heart to sink into my stomach – my body being washed over with an immeasurable amount of dread.
I shook my head, not wanting those things wrapped around my wrists -- I didn't want any restraints to be put on me. I hadn't liked the lack of mobility or freedom that accompanied them. My eyes watered at just the thought of having my arms bound together and not being able to fight back.
He eyed me for a few seconds, fully taking in my obvious despair, before letting out a mocking, slow sigh.
"You're going to have to wear these, Nat," he spoke, as though it were obvious. I shook my head again, this time more adamantly as tears were leaking out of the corner of my eyes. I was desperate to move my tongue and yell, but the weight of the metallic gag in my mouth reaffirmed to me that I couldn't even do that.
In an instant, my arms and legs shot out to hit and kick him, all the while I kept shaking my head. Although the gag prevented any screams, I could still make whimpers and whines. I know that it didn't matter, but at least I was protesting my feelings about the entire thing.
I don't want them!
I don't want them on me!
"Nat-!" Evan spoke, trying to get a stern grip on my other arm while still holding the leather cuffs in his hand. He dodged a closed fist strike of mine, nearly getting hit in the side in the process and then narrowed his eyes. "I will drug you to get your compliance," he threatened, and I immediately lost all will to fight against him.
Drugs...they were worse.
Somehow, being drugged meant that I was no longer human in my eyes. It meant that Evan could do whatever he wanted -- I knew he still could even if I could fight against him. I knew that he was no match for me, but in my fragile, feeble mind, I had at least wanted to be conscious and make things incredibly difficult for him --
I didn't want to give in.
I didn't want Evan to think that I would ever accept what he was doing to me. I didn't want him to think that I wanted it. I didn't want him to even begin to imagine that I would play along and give into his sick, twisted delusion of owning me.
I wouldn't give in.
My shoulders slumped and the whimpers were back. I hadn't wanted to stop struggling, but at the threat of being drugged...I knew that I had no choice.
He took my wrist and secured a leather cuff around that one before dropping my arm all together.
Evan then rose his hand, silently telling me to give him my other wrist.
I still attempted to plead up at him, using my face as well as I could. I kept staring at him, knowing that my eyes were watering up. My bottom lip was trembling, and he kept looking at me, never once lowering his hand.
He never once cared about what I thought or how I felt.
"No. Wrist. Now," he spoke, the emotionless eyes of his were back.
I regretfully gave him my other wrist while he secured the other one onto it. I went to reclaim my arm, wanting nothing more than for him to stop touching me. His grip tightened on it, holding it in place.
"A few more seconds. I need to chain it," he took out about a three inch chain from one of the nearby walls.
The 'clinking' sound of the chain caused my heart to stop beating for a few seconds. I hated that sound -- I hated the sound of chains. I never got over it these past five years and would always need to take extra precautions when I went outside to not hear it.
I shook my head, quick starting my heart, which seemed to lay incredibly dormant inside of me. It was as though merely hearing that noise was enough to induce an anxiety attack of mine.
I whimpered again, taking a few steps back. It didn't seem to stop Evan though, as he clipped the chain from one wrist to another before dropping both of my now trembling arms.
"Are you scared, Nat?" He asked, but I could hear the taunting in his tone.
I didn't answer, just resorted to shaking in front of him.
I could do nothing else except shake and tremble.
"It'll be alright," he reasoned off handedly.
Either he chose to ignore my obvious discomfort and terror, or he never noticed it to begin with.
"It's only for about an hour. Then, the arm restraints can come off."
I looked over at him in surprise that he would so willingly take the wrist restraints off.
He must have seen the hopefulness in his eyes because just as quickly a menacing smirk graced his features. His hand raised to stroke my cheek, "You've had a tough day, but now that we know what size cuffs and chain you are for your arms..." He let out a small chuckle. "I might have you wear these a bit more often from now on."
I took a step away from him and turned my back to him in anger, my shoulders tense.
"I would love to hear your kind words, but we really must freshen you up for dinner."
Get away from me.
His voice became louder behind me as did his footsteps. He was right behind me, his mouth just nearly touching my ear.
Get away from me-!
"Did you miss showering with me, my little bird?" He whispered. I felt as though a bucket of ice had been poured on me. I snapped my head to look at him, my eyes were wide with terror. I shook my head once and then kept shaking my head again and again.
I was giving myself a headache -- I didn't want to shower with him-!
I opened my mouth to voice my complaint and words of disgust, but my tongue wouldn't touch the roof of my mouth of say 'No' with the metal gag forcing it down.
I tried a few times, though it just appeared like I was dry heaving, and the sound I was making sounded inhuman. I kept on going, struggling to get words off my tongue. Tears were once more falling down my cheeks as I realized that I could do nothing and that I definitely did not have a choice about anything.
He chuckled loudly in complete amusement as he walked in front of me, taking the sturdy chain link that bounded my wrists together in his hand and pulled.
I was forced to follow him, forcing my head down to hide anymore tears that threatened to spill out.
No.
No-!
No!
...
...
I still felt dirty – I still felt dirty even after taking a shower.
Taking a shower with Evan was never pleasant and instead of feeling clean...I could still feel his touch on every part of my body. It was lingering – the phantom touch of his skin on mine, slowly marking it as he would start at the top of my arm before trailing down to my hand. I couldn't shake the mental image out of my mind at everything that he did -- everything he purposefully did so that I would not dare to forget it.
Ever.
"Natalie," Evan spoke over to me, warranting my attention.
I raised my head, looking up at him with barely focused eyes. My body was here with him – it was always with him – but my mind was wandering away into the depths of my scarred memories.
He lifted up his thumb and rubbed my cheek lightly. I flinched at his fingers landing on my body, of course he never asked to touch me --
Never asked for my consent.
Never needed to ask for my consent.
I felt tears gathering in my eyes and I clenched them shut.
"Natalie," he admonished me for my efforts. I still couldn't talk. He never took that gag out of my mouth – the cold metal still forcing my tongue down to prevent me from even saying a single sound. "You know I love to see your tears..." both of his hands landed on my cheeks.
I shook my head, not wanting to talk or look at him.
I was dressed in a dark blue strapless dress.
I wasn't wearing a bra or any underwear underneath -- I could only wear what Evan had given me. It wasn't as though I could ask for the extra garments, either, since the gag prevented me from even uttering a single word.
The dress didn't even cover that much – the end of the material reaching my upper thigh. I pulled at the end of my dress with my hands. They had still been chained together – the entrapping leather around my wrists kept making me aware that I wasn't going to be free anytime soon.
"Open them for me," Evan urged. It wasn't a suggestion, I knew that. I complied, slowly opening up my blurry eyes to look at him. I sniffed loudly, knowing that I couldn't even cry properly with the metal gag in my mouth.
Imagine that – I couldn't even cry properly.
"Beautiful," he spoke in a borderline obsessive tone.
He stroked my cheek with his thumb one last time before lowering his hands to his sides.
"Stop tugging on your dress," he didn't bother to turn around and actually watch me perform this action. Instead, he must have known just how humiliated I felt to be dressed in something that was so incredibly short. My fingers tugged at the material in a final attempt to magically make the dress longer.
"Natalie," he warned, causing me to clench my hands in anger as I placed them in front of me, listening to him for the time being.
The clinking of the chain that connected my wrists together was enough of a confirmation that I had listened to him. I had somewhat gotten used to the clinking sound over the course of the shower. It was still gut-wrenching to hear that dreaded sound, and I tried to make my movements as limited as possible.
He reached behind him, and I tensed up at seeing the hand that was coming in my direction. I turned my head, bracing for him to swat or smack me, but instead his hand landed on the small of my back, lightly pushing me forward.
I wasn't wearing any shoes – and the cuts that I had given myself by slicing open the leather cuffs around my ankles could be seen prominently. They were an angry red color – not even having the chance to darken yet. I could tell that they were deep, but they hadn't hurt so long as I didn't put any pressure against the cuts themselves.
For the most part, they had managed to scab over slightly.
"Just through here," Evan insisted, leading me to large, steel double doors.
I looked up at the unmovable metal doors with mixed emotions coursing through my head. I breathed in deeply as I felt my heartbeat pick up pace. My hands began to tremble on cue which made Evan take one of my clenched fists in his free hand.
He raised it up to his mouth and lightly kissed the knuckles of my hand. Since my other hand was shackled together, it raised that one a bit in the air, too. I watched for a few seconds before finally realizing what he was doing – he was kissing me.
N-No...
No, I don't want him to do that-!
I took a step to the side, wanting to immediately stop the action that I found downright repulsive. He seemed to notice my wanting to get away and tightened his hold on my hand to silently warn me to stay in place.
"It will be just fine. No more than an hour, I promise."
I didn't want to go in there.
I slowly let out a breath.
I don't want to go in there.
I breathed in again, feeling my heart start to race at the anticipation of the unknown.
I hated being surprised -- I hated not knowing things -- I hated being forced into someplace that I didn't want to be...!
I don't want to go in there-!
I breathed in deeply, not being able to get my breathing under control.
"I knew I should have given you a bit more of your anxiety medication..." He released his hold on my hand, and I let them both fall back to my side limply, unable to even control my limbs. The loud clinking of the chain doing nothing but further increasing my rising anxiety.
I can't breathe.
I let out a shaky breath.
I can't breathe!
"Damn it..." Evan cursed under his breath.
He took into his pockets and pulled out a capped syringe. My eyes locked onto it instantly. I shook my head, this time managing to take a step to the side. I took another one, my bare feet echoing loudly on the cold, cement floor.
"Natalie," he warned, while I furiously shook my head to object. "It will calm you down," he spoke lightly in an exasperated tone – as though he were trying to convince a child. "It will help you breathe again," he paused for a second before he smirked lightly as he taunted me with his next words: "You like breathing, don't you?"
I narrowed my eyes, but couldn't manage to hold that position long before he took aggressive steps towards me.
I couldn't scream for help.
He took a few more steps and latched onto my upper arm with his hand.
I couldn't run.
My lips began to quiver.
Despite the fact that I was gagged, I opened my mouth to tell him to stop.
I wanted to plead and beg even when I knew that it was useless. There was a small part of me that wanted to believe that he would finally come to his senses after all this time. I wanted the Evan that I had first met to come to the surface...but I knew that he was forever dead.
That Evan never existed in the first place.
A prick brought me out of my panic inducing thoughts. I released a guttural scream from my throat in complaint. He pulled me into his strong chest as he finished injecting me with whatever the hell was in that syringe.
I breathed in and out without any trouble this time, while my heart continued beat at a normal rhythm.
He stroked my back. I could only stand there motionlessly and take his forced affection on me. His touch feels and always will feel like acid. His touch will always destroy and hurt me in the worst possible ways -- he was going to kill me.
He pulled away, looking directly into my eyes.
I blinked slowly – having a hard time to focus and think. The contents in that syringe even made me feel dizzy, and I took a step only to catch my balance right at the last second. I continued to breath, unable to feel any anxiety or panic for the first time in my life.
"See?" He questioned. I continued to stare at him. "This dinner will be over before you know it, Natalie."
Then, he opened the door.
...
...
I looked at the wooden table that I had been sat at. Evan sat on my right while my hands were chained to the chair, forcing them to stay out of the way. My ankles had been chained to the chair legs from the moment that I had sat down.
My head lulled to the side, unable to keep itself up on hits own, and Evan scooted his chair closer to me.
Once he did that, he forced my head to rest on his shoulder. I didn't have the strength to move my neck away or even sit up straight in the chair. I blinked my eyes, taking in the forms of the adults that were sitting across from us at the table.
Adults?
I was an adult, too.
I couldn't help but want to spit at the current circumstance that I had found myself in – chained to the table like a child...or a dog.
"She's..." a feminine voice came from across the table. "She's very...pretty, Evan," It sounded rehearsed and almost worried. It wasn't at all similar to the Mrs. Hale that I knew five years ago. The Mrs. Hale from five years ago seemed eager to impress Evan and be on his side.
This Mrs. Hale sounded forced, as though she were trying to fill some role that she didn't want to-
I frowned at my thoughts immediately going to defend the woman that was in front of me.
What was I thinking?
Of course she's evil – she's Evan's real mom.
She was the one that raised him to be vindictive and evil. Half of his traits came from her, didn't they? With that logic, she must have some sickness in her. There was no way that Evan got all of his terrible traits from his father.
"How long -- how long have you two been together?" The mother continued, but I saw the man flash her a glare.
"Bianca..." he muttered out, and she instantly closed her mouth. Her attention went down to the food on her plate. She gripped the cutlery in her hands and began to cut something on her plate.
I looked down at the table in front of me to see food placed there as well.
When did that get there?
I blinked my tired eyes in confusion – it seemed like I was watching everything through a foggy mirror, and being able to just understand what was going on.
"This is the one that you've been searching for the past five years?" The man continued.
Evan held a forkful of food in front of me while I gave it an unimpressed side glance.
"Imagine that – the bored teenager came back home with a wife," his father continued to ramble on.
I didn't really care just what the hell the arrogant bastard was spouting off. I was in no mood to be forced to listen to two arrogant bastards in the same room.
Instead, I zeroed in on the slop of food that was dangling on the fork.
I didn't know what the food was – the colors blended together. It looked like some sort of white pasta sauce, and yet it also could have been rice -- it could have been Gordan Ramsay's beef wellington for all I cared...I was not about to eat it.
I didn't open my mouth -- I didn't want to eat it.
I don't want him to feed me like some dotting boyfriend.
He was a murderer and a psychopath.
"Yes," Evan answered his father.
He turned his attention to me at seeing that I was being reluctant to eat it. He pried open my mouth with his hands, not allowing me to just sit there and look pretty.
On instinct, I went to shove his hands away but remembered that they had been chained to the table too late. The clinking noise that I began to despise was heard, which caused Evan to chuckle, knowing that I couldn't do anything to stop him.
Again.
Again and again and again -- I couldn't do anything-!
He dropped the food on my tongue, and that's where it stayed. I didn't move it to the side of my mouth to chew.
I wouldn't eat this food.
I wasn't going to have dinner with his parents in any sense.
I wouldn't want him to think that I was complying or getting used to anything around here.
Instead, I rolled my head to look down, causing the food to fall onto his leg.
Evan stared down at the food before reaching over for his cloth napkin. He collected it in the napkin before setting it on the table. He let out a tired sigh as he looked at me before returning his attention back to his parents.
"She needs to be broken in, son," his father quipped. "You should know that if you don't make her fear you at the beginning then she'll be disobedient."
Bastard.
Asshole.
I clenched my hands tightly, forcing my nails to dig into my skin.
I hope he chokes on his fucking food-!
"I'm aware," Evan responded lightly. He placed his hands on the table in front of him. "Now that I finally have Natalie in my possession, I'm going to officially take over the duties of the compound," he announced to his parents.
"I'm so glad-!"
"Bianca," the father's voice came to cut off the woman. She looked down at her plate in submission, placing her hands in her lap. I closed my mouth and glared over at the man. I might not have liked Evan's mother, but at least she was pretending to act cordial and welcoming.
He noticed my look and gave me a slow smirk.
"You better break her soon," he didn't look away from me. "I can tell that she has fire."
Evan chuckled and leaned back in his chair.
Then, he raised his arm to rest around my shoulders. "She stabbed me in the chest back in high school..." He relaxed, as though telling a fond memory.
I should have stabbed you in the fucking heart.
"Even hit me with a lamp."
His father let out an entertaining chuckle. I didn't see how being hit with a lamp was funny – then again, I'm sure that his humor was much different than mine. I could see him dip his fork into the plate and take a bite of the food.
"Shouldn't have let your guard down, Evan."
"I didn't think that she would have the strength to strike out against me," Evan gave me a side glance. I narrowed my eyes over at him. "Though, it wasn't really her strength," he looked back at his father, who was holding his fork in his hand, about to scoop up another helping of food. "The person that helped her has been taken care of."
Ally.
Dear, God, Ally-!
I let out a choked sob and closed my eyes shut. He shouldn't have the right to talk about Ally like that – as though she were nothing more than a nuisance to him. She was the one person that I loved in this world. She was the one person that I could count on to take me out of bad situations and to make sure that I was comforted.
She was --
"A lover?"
"Not anymore," Evan responded to his father's question.
I forced my hands up, wanting nothing more than to punch or slap him. I needed to defend Ally, but at hearing the clinking of the chains, my hands only went so far from the chair they were chained to.
Evan chuckled at my anger before stroking my upper arm.
I opened my eyes to glare down at the chair that was holding my limbs captive. I tugged at the chains again and again, while tears streamed down my cheeks. Evan reached over to wipe away a tear, and I quickly retaliated by turning my head away from all the Hale's that were sitting at the table.
I wanted to say just how heartless they all were – that they were all monsters.
"Natalie," Evan's voice reached my ears.
I didn't turn to look at him.
A hand found its way on my chin, forcing me to look into his dark, merciless eyes.
"It needed to be done," he spoke with such absolution that I almost believed him. I stared for a few seconds, before quickly blinking my eyes and shaking my head. "She wasn't good for you, Natalie. She was obsessed with you..." His hand slid over to where my neck was – his fingers lingering on the spot where his henchmen had implanted his tracking chip into me.
I remained silent.
It's all that I could do.
"I got rid of her. I did you a service."
He did me nothing.
"Evan, I-I think --
"Bianca," the father spat out. My eyes darted over to the man who was now staring at the mother angrily. I watched as he slammed his fork on the table. "Do not interrupt our son when he is conditioning his woman."
Bianca looked down at the table.
"You interrupted Evan when he was in the middle of a torture session – what has gotten into you lately?" He continued to say.
He stared at his wife who didn't want to look up from her own barely eaten dinner plate.
"Get up," he ordered to her and she quickly stood up.
I could tell that she was scared – she was trembling. I almost felt bad for the woman, even if she was the mother to the worst man on this planet.
"Assume the position and wait for me," the father said cryptically. Bianca turned and wordlessly left the small dining area. She almost ran out of the room, using a back entrance than the one that we had come through earlier.
Position?
What was he talking about?
The father chuckled, shaking his head.
"I see that your initial reason for leaving the compound was a success," he rose a wine glass that I hadn't noticed before. He took a few gulps of it while I refrained from moving my arms and legs.
Evan's father placed the wine glass down on the table.
"I'll bet you aren't bored anymore. How did you poetically put it – the light in the darkness...?" He looked over at Evan as he also stood up. "We'll need to cut dinner short. I need to discipline her before she gets any other ideas in her head."
Evan didn't say anything back and instead stared at the wine glass that his father had placed on the table.
I watched as his father left...what kind of family was this?
A/N: Oh my gosh, google chrome just literally wasn't working with me for this site. This is why you should always have two web browsers! Fun fact of the day, I guess, haha. So, anyway, lots of editing needed to be done with this chapter (even tho it was so short, like what the hell?) and so sorry that it's posted a little late.
Evan's father is nameless and always will be nameless -- I don't think I ever gave him a name. I think Frank is a good, honest name for him, haha.
Thank you all for your continued support! <3