Page 50 of Dark Bonds

My protector.

My savior.

My captor.

The hours crawl by, each tick of the clock echoing in my head like a countdown. My hands move of their own accord, desperate for distraction. I smooth the already wrinkle free bedsheet, tracing the same pattern over and over. The dresser drawers open and close as I refold clothes I’ve already organized twice. My hairbrush scrapes against my scalp, pulling through tangled strands until they shine.

With each task, I imagine Valerie’s approving smile. The thought makes my stomach churn, but I can’t stop moving or trying to please her. If I do, I might remember where and what I am, and I can’t face that. Not now.

The door opens, and I freeze, my hairbrush suspended mid-stroke. Valerie enters with deep blue fabric draped over her arm. My heart quickens in a mix of anticipation and dread.

“Here,” she says, holding out what I now see is a dress. It shimmers in the dim light, the fabric flowing like water. “Put this on. You’ll look beautiful.”

My fingers brush against the dress, and I gasp. It’s softer than anything I’ve felt in… I can’t remember how long. The threadbare T-shirts and worn jeans I’ve been living in suddenly feel like sandpaper against my skin.

“Thank you,” I murmur, the words coming easier now, even as part of me recoils at my gratitude. “It’s lovely, but… why? Why now?”

Valerie’s smile doesn’t waver, but her eyes harden slightly. “Because you’ve earned it, Frankie. Don’t you want to be beautiful for me? For our guest?”

I swallow hard, nodding. “Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

Valerie helps me into the dress, her fingers cool against my skin as she zips it up. She guides me to a mirror, and for a moment, I don’t recognize the girl staring back at me.

My cheeks are still hollow, and shadows linger under my eyes like bruises, but the dress transforms me. It hugs what little curves I have left, and the color makes my pale skin glow. For the first time in forever, I look… pretty.

“See?” Valerie says, resting her chin on my shoulder as she meets my eyes in the mirror. Her breath is warm against my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. “You’re blossoming, Frankie. You’re becoming everything I knew you could be. Soon, you’ll be indispensable to me. Isn’t that what you want?”

Pride swells in my chest, hot and fierce. I want to hate her, to scream and fight and tear this beautiful dress to shreds, but I’m so tired, and this moment of peace, of feeling like maybe I’m worth something, feels like a lifeline I can’t help but cling to.

A sharp knock shatters the moment. Valerie’s reflection changes in an instant, her soft smile hardening into something predatory. Her hands tighten on my shoulders, her nails digging in slightly. “Remember,” she says, her voice low and urgent. “I’m right here. No one will hurt you. You’re safe with me.”

The door opens, and I hold my breath, expecting… I don’t know what, but the man who enters is nothing like I imagined. He’s older, with silver threading through his dark hair. Laugh lines crinkle at the corners of his eyes as he smiles, and for a moment, he reminds me of someone… a teacher maybe? Or a kindly neighbor from a life I can barely remember?

“Mr. Jameson,” Valerie greets him, her voice warm but with an edge I’ve learned to recognize—a warning. “I trust you’ll be a gentleman tonight.”

He nods, his eyes never leaving me. I feel exposed, pinned in place by his gaze. “Of course, Valerie. You know I always am.”

He takes a step toward me, and suddenly I can’t breathe. The walls seem to close in, the room spinning. My heart poundsso hard I’m sure they must hear it. I want to run and disappear in the shadows that once protected me, but then Valerie’s hand is on my back, steady and warm.

“It’s okay, Frankie,” she murmurs. “I’m here.”

Somehow, impossibly, I feel the panic recede, because Valerie is here. Valerie will protect me. Valerie knows best.

Right?

The evening unfolds like a surreal dream. Mr. Jameson sits across from me, his voice a low, soothing murmur as he talks about art and music. I nod along, my responses automatic, while my mind races. His kind demeanor feels like a trap, each smile a potential threat.

Valerie hovers nearby, a constant presence at the edge of my vision. When Mr. Jameson leans forward, reaching for my hand, I flinch. My muscles tense, ready to bolt, but before I can move, Valerie is there, smoothly stepping between us.

“More wine, Mr. Jameson?” she asks, her voice light but with an undercurrent of steel.

He withdraws his hand, and I exhale, not realizing I’d been holding my breath. As Valerie pours the wine, her free hand brushes my shoulder. The touch is brief, but it anchors me, keeping the rising panic at bay.

The clock on the mantel chimes, startling me. Has it really been hours? It feels like minutes and eternities all at once.

Mr. Jameson stands, straightening his jacket. “Well, this has been delightful,” he says, his eyes lingering on me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. “Valerie, you’ve outdone yourself this time. We must do this again… soon. Very soon.”

I force a smile, my cheeks aching with the effort. Valerie sees him to the door, their voices a low murmur I can’t quite make out. When she returns, her face is flushed, her eyes bright with triumph.

---