Uncovering You 5: Confessions (2 page)

This, I hope, is different.

The lights turn off after I’m comfortably settled in my chair. I give myself only ten minutes now, to shower and come back.

I don’t want to suffer any more “
accidents
.”

How long has it been? A week? Two? Maybe more?

My bet is on “
more”
.

I can feel the remaining pieces of my sanity slowly crumbling away. What is an existence like this worth? Where do I find the strength or will to keep fighting?

I scoff. I’m not fighting. Fighting would be foolish. Idiotic.

Fighting would earn me further punishment.

Is this what will become of my life for the next five years? A state halfway between a zombie and a human?

Everything I ever held dear has been stripped away. If Stonehart’s goal is to show me how little control I have left, he doesn’t need to do anything more.

In the back of my mind, I wonder what happened to Rose. It’s the first time in this second—or is it third?—imprisonment that I allow myself to think about the kindly woman.

Does she know where I am?

Undoubtedly.

Has she done anything to help?

Undoubtedly not.

And I thought I could count on her as a friend. I thought—

No
. I stop myself from sliding any further down that slippery slope. Rose has no influence over Stonehart. I remember the dove. Rose can’t do anything to help me while I’m in here.

It’s not her fault. I cannot hold it against her. If I ever see her again—

I stop myself once more.
Will
I ever see her again? I can’t be sure. I can’t be sure of anything while trapped in this dark hole.

Stonehart wants me to break. I laugh. I’m already broken. I am so far gone that no amount of reflection or soul-searching will ever rescue me from the pits of despair.

I have no friends, no love, no goals or hopes or dreams or aspirations.

Stonehart has squeezed all of those out of me.

It’s just sleep, wake,
rape
.

***

I come to face down on the chair, and realize that I’m being fucked.

It’s a strange sensation to wake to, especially since I know that it’s been going on for some time. I can hear Stonehart’s pants behind me. He did not start recently.

He’s been going at it for a while.

It’s a testament to how far I’ve fallen that I don’t even care. It’s a testament to how numb I’ve become.

I don’t let the mixed feelings of pain and pleasure distract me. I simply close my eyes and wonder if I can drift back into sleep…

***

My meals are brought to me on a cart. Stonehart wheels them in himself. He leaves them close by, within arm’s reach, and then leaves.

Even though he does not speak when he does it, and I cannot see a thing, I know that it’s him. I’ve become so accustomed to his presence that I could pick him out if I were blindfolded and in a crowd of fifty.

Part of it is the way he breathes. His breathing is slow and controlled. It reflects the purpose he seems to find in whatever he does.

His breathing also mirrors his voice. I wonder if he trained himself to speak the way he does. That baritone rumble seems to come effortlessly to him. However, for some reason, I can picture him practicing it as a youth.

***

I yearn for someone to speak to. I need a confidante. A friend. I feel so utterly alone and so completely useless.

What have I done to improve my position with Stonehart since I was first given access to his mansion? Nothing. Nothing at all. From the minute I entered his house, it’s been nothing but blunder after blunder after blunder.

First there was the wine bottle that I threw at his face. The memory evokes a brief smile. That was fun.

Then there was the surveillance room disaster. The dove. The nighttime adventure in his office.
Falling asleep
on the day I knew to expect him.

I’ve long since come to grips with the fact that anything bad that happens to me is my own fault. Would Stonehart have ever punished me if only I’d done what he asked?

No. If only I’d been a little smarter, a little more astute… things could be different now.

I yearn for the days when the TGBs meant something. Stonehart claims he is a man of his word, but he promised me that TGBs earned would not be taken away.

The irony hurts so much I want to cry. He
did not
take them away.

He just snatched away all the freedoms they granted.

What a stupid system
, I think to myself.
Why would he even introduce them if he never meant to use them properly?

Probably as a way to taunt me. As a way to tempt me with the promise of ultimate freedom. As a way to ensure my behavior.

I flip over on the chair and scoff. He didn’t need to tempt me with TGBs to get me to behave. All he needed to do was leave me in the dark like this two or three more times.

Because right now, I am sure that I will never, ever do anything to displease Stonehart. Ever again.

He doesn’t even know what this latest stint has done to me. My resolve to get back at him? Gone. My resolution to get revenge? Vanished. I know, in my heart of hearts, that the best I can hope for is to simply tread carefully enough in the next five years to avoid finding myself in the dark again.

Discomfort and discontent boil up inside of me.
Why was I so stupid before?
In the days before I was bound to this chair, I had it made. I was living in a magnificent mansion with a stunning view of the sea. I had access to every nook and cranny on the property—well,
almost
.

Why couldn’t that have been enough?

Because I’m a stubborn idiot, that’s why
.

Was my life really so bad? I mean, sure, I had to make myself available for Stonehart whenever he wanted. But, that was a minor inconvenience—especially compared to what is happening now.

At best, it was absolutely wonderful. I remember the way he made me feel the one time we made love in his bed…

Of course, that was all a lie. It was just his way of exerting his dominance over me.

Now, he does not even treat me like a living human.

Thinking back, I have no idea what right I had to complain. I mean, maybe I had no access to the outside world. But, was it really that bad? I know there are people—monks, hermits—who purposefully remove themselves from society. Couldn’t I have just thought of my isolation the same way?

No. Because it was not your
choice.

I shrug the uncomfortable thought away. No matter what, it was better than this.

I try to imagine what will happen when I’m finally let out. Stonehart said we would be “starting from the beginning.” Does that mean all my TGBs are gone? Does that mean I’m to be confined by the pillar again?

Even that would be an improvement. I won’t complain. Maybe I’ll even be allowed to see Rose again. I’m sure she’ll be happy to chat. At least, I hope she will. I need to ask her about Charles, and the guesthouse I saw her leaving…

I yawn. Fatigue is washing over me. There’s no point fighting it. I close my eyes and fall into a deep sleep.

***

I wake to overwhelming brightness. Alarms go off in my head as I jerk upright. I’ve slept through part of my fifteen minutes!

I curse and scramble up. How long do I have?

Then I notice something that astounds me: The light is coming from
outside
.

Holy shit.

I spin around.

The blinds are open. Cold winter sunshine floods the room.

I can’t believe it. I stare out the window, and bring a trembling hand to my collar.

Is that it? Is this… over?

I hear footsteps behind me and whirl back. My senses are on high alert.

I see Stonehart approaching. I instinctively shy back into the depths of the armchair.

He smiles as he looks me over. It’s a small smile, one that barely touches his lips. But it’s reflected in his eyes, as well.

He looks strong and virile and powerful. His hair is a little shorter than I remember. Maybe he just had it cut. Or maybe not. I could never see his face in the dark.

He stops before me and glances around the room. Hatred and disgust fill me at the sight of him. But, beneath those emotions lies a twinge of fear.

His smile broadens as he sits next to me. I press my back as far into the chair as I can. I do
not
want him this close, not in broad daylight, not when I can see every handsome detail of his face.

He looks at me for a long, quiet moment. To my credit, I don’t flinch. I catch a whiff of his cologne. It’s light, almost like the memory of a scent. But it amplifies his personal aroma, somehow underscoring his masculinity.

To think, I used to respond to that smell.

Now, nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Lilly.” Stonehart’s voice is gentle. He lifts a hand to touch my cheek. My strength fails, and I shy away.

His face falls. His hand drops down. He looks genuinely hurt.

“You don’t want me to touch you?” he asks.

I balk. How do I respond to that?

No shit I don’t want you to touch me
, I think,
but I can’t very well come out and say that, can I?

Instead, I give a resigned sigh, and lean slightly toward him, granting implicit permission.

He gives a sad smile. The tips of his fingers brush my jawline. It’s a soft, gentle touch that makes goosebumps erupt along my skin.

“You know,” he says, staring deep into my eyes, “Rose has been asking to see you. It would please me very much to grant her that request.”

I don’t answer. It’s not like I’m locking myself in here. Everything happens at Stonehart’s discretion.

The thought makes me sad.

“I told her that I would talk to you and ask what you think of that request,” he continues. He tilts my chin up and makes me look at him. “So, Lilly? What do you want me to say?”

“I think—” I swallow. “I think I would like that.”

I jerk my gaze away.

From the corner of my eye, I see Stonehart’s face brighten. “Good,” he says. “I was hoping you would respond positively.” He takes a breath. “You know, Lilly, it gives me no great pleasure keeping you in here. I look at the state you’re in—” His eyes run over me. “—and can’t help but feel that part of this is my fault.”

My hackles rise and my backbone snaps into place.
Part
of it is
his
fault?

Try “
all
,” you motherfucking bastard!
I think.

Wisely, I don’t give voice to my thoughts.

Stonehart rocks his head from side to side, as if trying to see me from a better angle. “But then,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I remember what you did to get yourself here, and that tendril of guilt flutters away.”

I force myself to meet his eyes again. My strength is returning. I don’t know if he’s serious or not. It
sounds
like he’s mocking me. But, his voice is chock-full of the deepest sincerity.

I remember the strength of his poker face, and decide,
he is making fun of me.
I tell myself not to take it to heart.

“Lilly,” he says again, his hand dipping down to trace the collar around my neck, “You are so very beautiful. Why do you force me to do these things to you? If only you’d
behave
—” his fingers come to rest at the soft spot beneath my chin and he tilts my head up, “—we could have the pleasure of truly enjoying each other’s company.”

Enjoying each other’s company? Is the man completely insane?

My backbone is set in place and anger starts to fume inside of me.

He tilts his head to the side and smiles. “Oh, I know that look,” he says. He raises both his hands in mock-surrender. “I’ve said something to upset you. Please, don’t throw another wine bottle at me.”

Then he laughs, a great, rich laugh, as if he’s just made the most magnificent joke in the world.

“But really,” he says through one last chuckle. “Please don’t force me to put you in this situation again, Lilly. I worry about you when you’re in here. You don’t know how much trouble I have sleeping when I know you’re cold, alone, and lonely.”

“Is that why you come in and rape me every night?” I spit in his face. Then I gasp, and throw both hands over my stupid mouth. My eyes widen in fear.

Idiot!
A voice cries out in my head.
Fucking idiot! You’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?