Page 102 of Love is Strange
He growls a low rumbling noise, which vibrates off him in waves and fills the room with more truth than words ever could.
“I need to get you out of here.” He stands up and walks over to the table. “Do you know where the key is to the chains?”
"No," I reply and bow my head. I know from where he stands in the room I’m shrouded in darkness, and I prefer that. He can't see what I am –the dirty little whore I've become.
"Layla." I get lost in my own thoughts I don’t notice he's right in front of me until he bends down and lifts my chin, so I’m forced to look up at him. My body’s screaming at me to push him away, but I’m lulled into a sense of security by his warm breath on my face and the spell he weaves from the pools that are his charming black eyes. "I'm going to go and find some bolt cutters. I’ll be back. Nobody’ll come in here. You have my word. Prez is taking care of your father.”
“He’s killing him.”
“No. Not yet,” he replies with such bluntness I gulp.
He gets up and disappears without further interaction. I’m left alone in the room, which has been my home for so many years. Something has shifted in the last few minutes though. Despite what has occurred within these four walls, it has always felt like my sanctuary. The place where I can lose myself in thoughts of an imaginary life where I’m a princess in a massive castle with a husband – my knight in shining armor. He worships me, he cares for me, and he rescues me from dragons and all the evil within the world. But it’s a dream I know will never come true because I’m too dead inside to be worthy of love.
Heavy footsteps draw me out of my brief daydream, and I see Caim coming toward me with what looks like giant scissors. I cock my head.
“Bolt cutters?” I ask.
"Yes. I need you to come into the light a bit more." My eyes go wide and look to where the light from outside the room shines in and creates a beam of angelic brilliance. "It's dark where you are, and I don't want to hurt you."
I push myself up, and with stiff movements, I lock my knees into position and make my feet move forward one step at a time until I reach the light.
“You won’t hurt me with them, will you?” I ask nervously.
"No"–He reaches down and tugs on the chains, which are joined to a bolt on the wall at one end and to the cuffs around my wrists on the other–"I can't get the cuffs off here. I'll need to do it at the compound, but I'm going to cut these chains."
“Not my flesh?” I question, and a growl fills the room again.
“Never.”
I nod at him to proceed. In seconds, the age-old barrier to my movement is gone. My legs wobble, and dropping the wire cutters, Caim wraps his arms around me. I don't have the energy to fight him. The significance of being free is sending me into a spiral of emotions I'm not sure I can handle. I want to scream, cry, lash out, but I don't have the strength. He tucks me under his arm, grabs the t-shirt from where he left it, and then holding me steady, he slips it over my head. I instantly feel constricted. The material claws at my skin, and I make to pull it off.
“No,”–he orders– “wait a minute. It’ll feel strange at first because you aren’t used to it.”
"I'm scared," I whisper.
“It’s ok. I’m not going to leave you.”
He pulls me into his chest, and I allow him to do so. I can hear the steady beat of his heart, and I let the tears finally fall. These ones aren't for my daddy, they are for me, for all I've suffered. I weep for the victim I've become and allow the salty water to start healing the wounds of my fragile mind.
Eventually, Caim swoops me up into his arms, and effortlessly strides out of the room where I've been captive for nearly half of my life. I’d thought the moment would be more significant with a choir of angels singing hallelujah, but there is nothing. I feel nothing. There are men everywhere in the house, all of them wearing cuts with green eyed skulls displayed on them. A memory from my childhood slams into my head of men standing around wearing the same logo, but not here – a different place, a black room with women and noises – sex. My temple pulses, and I feel as though my head is going to explode. Caim shifts me in his arms.
"You ok?" he asks, but I've got my eyes screwed tightly shut against the memories. "Layla?" He shakes me.
“Memories,” I gulp out before the pain overwhelms me, and I slip into oblivion.
Chapter Three
CAIM
I rubmy hand over my face as weariness sets in. Layla is still unconsciousness when we start back for the compound. Heat and the others have brought a couple of vehicles with them, and I place her in the back of the truck that is the more comfortable of the two. Snake is riding in the other with Prez, Heat, and a couple of the prospects. Iron, my VP, offers to join me on the trip back and drive, which I am grateful for because I don’t want to leave Layla's side. When we get back Ebony, Prez’s eighteen-year-old daughter, sets about organizing a couple of the more genteel club girls to bathe Layla and bandage some of her wounds. She still doesn’t wake, so the Doc is called who says it is just shock keeping her unconscious, and it’s better if we let her sleep. Everyone files out of the room, and I’m left alone by her bedside. Iron tries to order me to come out, and the ever-present urge I’ve buried deep inside myself to punch someone, anyone, in the face, manifests itself in a fist that narrowly misses its target. Thankfully it did because punching out my VP would have led to a punishment I don’t really want to have to deal with today, not when I want to be there when the girl lying in the bed in front of me wakes up, so I know she’s ok.
Damn, I need a drink! Quietly pushing back my chair, I get to my feet and place my hand on hers.
"I'll be back in a minute. Just going to get a beer. I'll bring one back for you." I snort a laugh because I must sound stupid talking to someone who is away with the fairies in a deep sleep.
I open the door to the bedroom, hoping it doesn’t creak, and breathe a sigh of relief when I get out of the room without creating a racket. With size twelve feet, I’m not exactly the most graceful of people.
“Caim.” Prez appears out of nowhere with a beer in hand. “Thought you’d want this.”
