Chapter 6 : DemitierAfter what feels like a few days, and judging from the moon cycle, Adrian finally pays me a visit. I had been desperate for this moment, never quite certain whether I was dreading or anticipating it more. He's probably just making sure I haven't planned another escape or maybe he has other reasons, I have no idea. Maybe both.
I don't feel great and could do with a new pair of clothes and a nice, long, shower. I probably smell terrible, but it's not like it's my own fault. I haven't really
“Are you going to kill me ?” I ask matter a factly. I've grown numb to the idea of death, I don't really care anymore. I just want out of this place, one way or another. It's being stuck in this limbo that is frightening, because my thoughts are the loudest thing in my prison, and they aren't exactly pleasing. That or I am consumed with the need to sleep and sleep some more.
He shakes his head. No. Well, that's one straight answer I've gotten from him. It's a start. Maybe the technique “Let's punch the wall until someone answers me” isn't the most effective.
“Are the cops going to be here soon ?” he chuckles, just a little, but it's enough to piss me off tremendously. Unfortunately, he shakes his head yet again. Well, you can't ask for too much in life. God, what's taking them so long ?
I am exhausted, “Can I take a bath ?”
He offers me the first nod of the day and heads out without even having said a word to me. The young lady, Mouse as I've nicknamed her because she tries to make herself invisible and never utters a word unless spoken to, walks in carrying a towel, some mini soaps and various toiletries and thank you Jesus, a pair of jeans, a cotton shirt, socks, underwear and a bra. I could just kiss her. Actually, on second thought, no I couldn't.
The steaming hot water feels amazing. Each muscle and joint loosens itself. I feel as if I could just melt any instant. After washing my hair twice, and scrubbing myself raw to removed the layers of grim, dirt and oil that caked my skin, I get out and dry off. Before getting dressed, I examine my body in the mirror. Wiping away the condensation with the tips of my fingers, I look over my naked reflection. My brown eyes no longer hold that special twinkle, my hair is in urgent need of a cut and my skin looks sickly, extremely pasty and paler than usual. I can't make out any bruises that would explain the pain I am in. I press my face closer and turn my head this way and that, but my face is also clear of marks. Maybe it's psychological. Disgusted by my own reflection, I pull on the fresh garments. It fells nice to be a little closer to my older self.
As I walk back accompanied by Mouse, I start brainstorming. I haven't tried anything radical yet in order to get away. She is tinny, shorter than me by at least five inches, and can't weigh more than a hundred and ten pounds, max. She is skin and bones, even in my state I could easily take her. But I feel guilty, she is at a disadvantage, her back to me, leading the way. She wouldn't see me coming. It wouldn't be fair. What am I thinking, this isn't about bloody chivalry and politeness. She is working for Adrian, she must know he's a kidnapper. She deserves each and every punch I can land. This is a matter of survival, I convince myself. I elaborate my plan easily as she takes me back, totally oblivious to what is about to happen. Why does she even agree to work for him, ? She young, she should be in education, partying and whatnot. Maybe she owes him a favor or maybe she is in it for the money. Anyone who can rent a mansion such as this one must be filthy rich.
“What's your name ?” I ask, trying to put on my friendliest tone.
She looks startled. She wasn't expecting me to strike conversation. Probably doesn't know what protocol calls for in such situations. Must have missed the chapter on mingling with
hostages in the “Top 100 Worst Jobs” handbook. I nod encouragingly.
“Demitier,” she answers.
What kind of a name is that ? “That's an original name,” I state (good one Captain Obvious), “Tell me, Demitier, where exactly are we ?”
She's worried, he must have forbad her of saying. I sincerely hope she won't get into too much trouble, but my needs are more important than her reserved attitude.
“Miss Leah, I like you, I don't understand why Mr. Ivanov chose you. And I don't think he will hurt you, you're safe with him. But he won't approve of me telling you.”
The girl actually looks genuinely sad. I act out of impulse, because I swear, I have never been the aggressive type. I just need to know. I grab her by the neck and slam her into the wall, with much more force than is necessary. I didn't even know I had it in me. Her feet barely graze the floor. I can see the terror in her eyes.
“Please,” deciding I should stay polite no matter.
“We're in Canada,” She whimpers hastily, slowly turning blue.
What ? No, we can't be. It's impossible. I live in Florida. Not up in no man's land Canada. I almost forget about Mouse, until she lets out a strangled sob. I let Demitier go, and watch as she falls to the ground.
“You won't tell Adrian about our little discussion, OK ?” I warn, looking down at her with my best glare.
She nods frantically. Ashamed by my behavior, I help her stand but she pulls away from me in fear. I take the lead and find my way back into my luxurious prison.