The bed was hard.

And cold.

In her drowsy state, Ileana Deville shivered and gently blew a strand of silver hair out of her pale, wrinkled face. The feel of harsh iciness and rough hardness beneath her frail skin confused and alarmed the old woman. Where was her soft, familiar mattress? Had someone stuffed it with bricks? It certainly felt like it. Where were her thick, warm blankets? She must have kicked them off during the night, because a dangerous chill tensed her spine. Where were her new, fluffy pillows? The feeling beneath her head was not welcoming at all, just as rough and hard as her mattress felt. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she yawned loudly. Where was her favorite blue nightgown? She felt naked! Slowly, Ileana’s pale blue eyes flickered open, greeted by an oddly dim light and blurred images.

Her lazy mind was gaining more awareness with each passing second. Had she fallen off of her bed? Were her floors really so rough and freezing? Didn’t she have carpets? Did she? Ileana could have sworn she did, but at the moment she was not quite so certain. “Fancy? Olga? Cedric?” Ileana called out weakly, blinking her eyes slowly, finding that her blurred vision cleared up just a tad bit with each blink. Calling out the names of her housekeepers, Ileana was met with no response and so she called out once more, louder, this time having a small, masculine chuckle respond to her. “Cedric?” Ileana asked, using all of her strength to push herself off of her stomach and onto her back, eyes slowly roaming around the room once she had accomplished this. “Be a dear and help me up, please, Cedric. I must have fallen out of bed in the middle of the night.”

The chuckle came again, this time followed by a quiet, girlish giggle. “Fa…Fancy?” Ileana asked, feeling strangely worried as her eyes moved through the darkness, searching for the figures of her housekeepers. Uneasiness filled Ileana’s stomach and she swallowed hard, grunting as she struggled to bring her body into a sitting position. Cedric would have immediately come to Ileana’s aid, had he seen his mistress on the floor. And Fancy would have been calling for the older maid, Olga, or 911 if she had seen Ileana. Then there was Olga who would have soothingly calmed Ileana and the others as she helped the elderly woman back into bed. There was no rush, though, no panic in the other two occupants of her room.

“Not quite, Mother,” said the male voice, the sound of footsteps bringing the man closer. Panic seized Ileana whose struggle to sit up was encouraged by his nearing, her muscles and bones all protesting harshly so that she could barely move one inch before sinking back into the cold floor, exhausted. If there were intruders in the house, the police would be on their way. There were alarm systems, after all! Though Ileana really didn’t recall being woken by the sound of alarms. And she certainly couldn’t remember being woken by her housekeepers’ frantic struggle with the thieves or their calls for help. Blinking rapidly once more, the man who was now standing right above her came into clearer view and Ileana gasped in surprise when she recognized just who it was.

The man was middle aged and he stood tall and straight with perfect posture. His skin held a golden tan and his eyes were a bright, emerald green color. His hair was neat, made up of thick dark brown curls complete with a receding hairline. Thick eyebrows were raised proudly above his wide, amused eyes and his full lips were curled up into a mysterious smirk. Broad shoulders and muscular chest were all hidden under a dark business suit. The man seemed haughty, the way he looked down upon Ileana and the way he held himself with his arms loosely set across his wide chest.

“Lucius?!” Ileana breathed, shocked to see her eldest son standing right before her. Lucius Deville rarely visited his Texan hometown, rarely stepping into the walls of Deville Manor since his eighteenth birthday. The only reason he had bothered returning at all was to secure his inheritance.

An inheritance he hardly needed, Ileana often reminded herself. Lucius had made quite a name for himself as a business tycoon since leaving home. He was the creator, the wealthy head of Deville Industries. He resided in Los Angeles, California with his superficial trophy wife and his eerie slave of a daughter. He was a famous multi-billionaire, and still he visited this small Texan town every few years to assure himself a very good place in the will of his parents. Ileana could hardly understand what Lucius wanted with a few extra million dollars and this old estate.

It was Lucius’s younger brother, Xavier, who needed that money. Xavier had acquired a humble office job after high school and didn’t earn nearly the amount of money Lucius did or that their father Damian had before dying three years ago. He was a good son, though. He stayed in town with a lovely wife and two children. Xavier was always there, visiting Damian and Ileana, always there for his parents and doing whatever they asked.

Somehow, despite Xavier’s hard work and compassion, Lucius had remained Damian’s favorite son and it showed in the original draft of his will—a will that Ileana was intending to change with the help of a lawyer friend. The will stated that no one should inherit anything until Ileana’s death, an event that was rapidly approaching with the sudden onslaught of illnesses that the old woman kept acquiring. It was Ileana’s favoritism towards Xavier and her worry for her nearly bankrupt son that made Ileana determined to change that will at any cost. It was not as if it could hurt Lucius in any way. He was doing more than fine in his blessed life.

“You’re looking…Horrid this morning, Mother. Are you feeling ill?” Lucius asked. It sounded more like an attempt at polite conversation than genuine concern and Ileana sighed, disappointment filling her eyes before she could stop it. No matter what Lucius was like, she always did hope he could change, show a bit of emotion. A silly, lost cause, perhaps. Shaking her head, Ileana looked away from her eldest child, looking to her left and to her right to see which side of her bed she had fallen off of.

There was no bed in sight, however. No window, no dresser, no carpet, no family portraits, no lamp, no vases of flowers, no sight of any of the items that adorned her bedroom. A sharp gasp escaped Ileana’s throat, her chest tightening and quivering, her reaction sending her into a violent coughing fit as she stared in horror at the room around her. It was a spacious room, but that was possibly the only good thing about it. The place was dark and dank, lit up by a very dim light. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and clung to the stone walls of the place, spiders and cockroaches scrambling across the floor and the walls. Floor and walls both made of stone, giving the place a feel of a medieval prison.

That was only the beginning of what gave the room that eerie, deadly feel to it. Rusty chains hung were attached to one wall, shackles dangling at the ends of it. A long, oak table stood close to the chains, stained by blood and urine. A metal toolbox sat in one corner of the table, the contents spread out randomly across the table. In the middle of the table sat a glass jar, the liquid inside too murky to make anything (if anything) out. There were a few things under the table, but the shadows beneath it were too dark for Ileana to see properly.

And that was only one wall. Ileana twisted her body around a bit, her anxious and terrified eyes curiously taking in more of the room. The wall beside the chains had a large stone fireplace. To the left of the fireplace was a bookcase, only a few books on each of the seven shelves. To the right of the fireplace were collections of knives, swords, guns, whips, and brands all sitting on shelves or dangling from hooks. On the adjacent door there was nothing but the exit, the only doorway in the room, a large wooden chair pressed up under the doorknob to prevent anyone from entering easily.

“Luc….Lucius…What’s…Where are we?” Ileana demanded, her entire body trembling harshly in fear. This room and the way her son was acting, Ileana could hardly relax. Despite how tired and sore her limbs were, Ileana struggled to move her body around a bit, only managing to flop helplessly on the floor for a few seconds before settling down, gasping for breath. She received no response, only the feel of her son’s cold green eyes boring into her body as she frantically glanced around the place for any escape, any help. All she was able to do, though, was see how more terrifying the room got.

Right above her, in the very middle of the room, hung a cage. The cage was made of rusted metal and it hung from rusty chains on the ceiling, hovering only about three or four feet from the floor. A cage! “Lucius!” Ileana said sternly, her voice half panicked behind how strong she had managed to sound. She was scared, yes, but Ileana reminded herself that letting anyone know how afraid she was was not a good thing. In all of her years, suffering abuse at the hands of Damian Deville, she had learned that much: never let them know just how afraid you are. Even if she didn’t know for a fact, Ileana had a bad feeling that Lucius was just like his father…Or worse, by the looks of this room.

“Calm down, Grandmother. You’re disgracing the Deville name with all of that shivering.”

The sound of a female’s voice reminded Ileana that there was someone else in the room, and at the term ‘grandmother’, it was immediately made aware to Ileana just who it was. The old woman’s heart sank as her fear-filled blue eyes turned further right, falling upon the only wall she had yet to examine. A large, antique mirror hung on the wall…Dusty golden frame and smudged, cracked glass. Beneath the mirror sat a large wooden chest, a young woman sitting upon it. The girl was seventeen or eighteen…Yes, eighteen, Ileana remembered. Her very presence held the same strength as her father’s in her obvious comfort and confidence in the very way she sat, tall and proud. Ileana met the girl’s eyes, eyes just like her father’s, everywhere from the bright shade of emerald green to the deep amusement filling them to the brim and dark promises being made the moment their gazes met. Other than those eyes, the girl was physically a replica of her mother, Victoria Deville. The two vixens shared the same smooth, flawless, golden skin; the same silky, dark blond hair; the same luscious, pink lips; and the same elegantly slender bodies with just the right curves to get men like Lucius Deville to marry them.

The girl wore a short-sleeved black turtleneck, white pencil skirt, and black heels that all seemed too stylishly sophisticated for someone her age. She sat upon the chest like it was her throne, those long legs crossed, one arm draped across her legs, the elbow of the other resting on that arm, her knuckles placed just under her chin as the girl studied her grandmother. Those full lips were smirking in the same secretive amusement as her father was. Ileana’s eyes drank in the image of the granddaughter she had only seen in pictures for the past three years. She had changed quite a bit, physically and otherwise, Ileana noted. At least the girl wasn’t glued to her father’s side as she usually was. With the girl’s new show of independence, though, came a certain something else that Ileana could not name, a certain feel to the air of her that reminded her of her late husband. The very idea of Damian caused Ileana to shiver reluctantly once again, swallowing a large lump in her throat several times.

“Danna…Oh how lovely to see you again, darling,” Ileana said, trying to keep her voice strong, not flinching as her voice broke and cracked. The girl merely scoffed and rolled her eyes, causing Ileana to sigh and turn her attention back to her son. “Lucius…Help me up now!” Ileana demanded, managing to keep her voice stronger, stricter than before.

Lucius cocked an eyebrow, smirk fading into a frown and the amusement leaving his eyes so that they were almost empty, dead. “I hardly think you are in any position to command me, Mother,” Lucius responded coolly. “Do you have any idea…No, I guess you don’t, do you?” He laughed harshly. “You are in the basement of your own house and you didn’t even realize it!”

Basement? This hardly resembled a basement! The basement of a serial killer perhaps, but no normal basement. Ileana’s eyes darted across the room, trying to find some clue to tell her that Lucius’s words were true, trying to find some way to connect this room to the rest of her house…Trying to imagine this place underneath the ordinary rooms upstairs in Deville Manor. Ileana could hardly see it and she shook her head. “No…No, no, no…You must be jo-…No, L-…No. Stop playing games, Lucius, and just help me up!”

Irritation and fear welling up inside of her, Ileana began moving a bit, using all of her strength to try to roll over yet again, to push herself to her feet…All she managed to do was roll onto her side before stopping, her heart racing as fast as it could, her chest aching in the stress it was all doing on her fragile body. All of her muscles were burning in their soreness and Ileana cringed at the pain that flowed through her body.

“Stop being so damned foolish, Mother,” Lucius snarled, his expensive shoes hitting the stone floor loudly, their sound echoing off of the walls as he walked over to her side and delivered a harsh kick to her side so that she rolled back onto her back, crying out in response to the sharp pain in her side, a pain that felt as if his toes had shattered her ribs and pierces right through her flabby flesh. The feel of that leather on her skin made Ileana suddenly very aware of her nudity. Humiliation over lost modesty tinged Ileana’s face pink as she moved her arms over her sagging breasts and she crossed her legs the best that she could, wishing she could cover almost every inch of her skin as she normally did. Being so exposed felt so unnatural! It was so embarrassing and degrading, and yet Lucius and Danna seemingly didn’t notice. Or rather they just didn’t care that an old woman was lying naked on the floor.

“Aww look, Daddy! She’s modest!” Danna laughed, seeming to be horribly amused by this revelation. Ileana closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep some control over herself. It could not help her to lose her mind in this fear or this embarrassment or any of the other insane feelings moving through her. “God…Dear God please help me…Lord…Please…Save me…”

“Oh my God!” Danna exclaimed in the midst of more laughter. Her voice penetrated through Ileana’s mind, though the woman tried not to let it interrupt her now silent prayers too much. Quietly, the woman prayed for help, needing desperately for God to interfere and to save her from whatever devious plans Lucius and Danna had in store for her. “She’s a Christian? She asks her powerless God to save her! Good God, Daddy, you never mentioned how idiotic the woman was.”

“Danna…” Lucius said quietly, his tone powerful despite how almost silent his voice sounded. Danna’s laughter almost immediately ceased and Ileana heard the young woman’s body shift around and then the sound of those black heels clicking on the floor, growing louder every second. Ileana’s body tensed, sensing the nearness of the girl, and desperately the woman went on with her prayer, begging and pleading with God to save her and to stop these apparent lunatics. Ileana couldn’t imagine what they had brought her here for, and she was grateful for the lack of imagination.

“Oh!” Ileana gasped, eyes snapping open as she felt the ground being pulled out from under her. Somehow Danna had managed to swiftly and easily lift Ileana’s body into her arms, slinging her over one small shoulder and carrying her smoothly across the room. There was no struggle, no hesitation, no slowness in the way Danna walked. Ileana was surprised as she clutched at Danna’s back for support. The girl was so small! Granted she was tall for a woman, but still relatively small in her shape. And she was a girl! It seemed so odd, so unnatural, but Ileana could hardly ponder on that for long. Only moments later, Danna dropped Ileana onto the ground, the woman screaming out in pain. Her hip bone felt like it might shatter at any moment and her spine tingled painfully.

Before Ileana was given any sort of a chance to settle down and relaxed, her body was forcibly being moved around again. Danna hoisted Ileana back up, yanking one arm upwards and the sound of clanking metal alerted Ileana to the fact that this was the wall with the chains on it! There was not much fighting to be done. Before Ileana could protest, one shackle was clapped around one wrist and the other was in the same condition in only seconds. “Please…” Ileana begged, her legs trembling beneath her, not strong enough to sustain her for long. The shock of being upright made her head spin so much that she closed her eyes, feeling a headache coming on. No, no…She had to remain focused for this. Ileana shook her head and opened her eyes, determined not to show any more weakness than necessary, something that seemed almost impossible to do when her knees buckled and her body sagged to the ground as much as it could, arms stretched high above her body now, as a result of the chains.

“What are you doing? I’m…You can’t!” Ileana declared, voice pleading as she watched the two move around. Lucius stepped forward, stopping three feet in front of Ileana. He didn’t speak one word, resting his cold gaze unblinkingly upon his mother with his arms still folded across his chest. As he did so, Danna moved across the room gracefully, headed straight towards the selection of knives and whips and other weapons, causing Ileana to pull helplessly at her restraints.

It was no use, she was aware. She was an old, ill woman. She was too weak to stand on her own, let alone fighting off two younger, stronger people, of her own blood, no less! Lucius and Danna didn’t think much of relationships, though. Ileana swallowed hard, hating how vulnerable she felt. Sucking in a deep breath, Ileana closed her eyes and did the only thing that offered any consolation at all, an act that filled her with hope and strength.

She prayed.