"I can't keep up with your turning tables
Under your thumb, I can't breathe
So I won't let you close enough to hurt me"
Turning Tables - Adele
"You're an idiot."
Logan growled gravely at the insult, but said remained deathly silent. The two brothers stared down curiously at the slip of girl before them. Logan observed her, acutely aware of his brother doing the same. Vague irritation stirred within him.
She had an exceptionally round face, complete with plump cherub cheeks and a freckle-scattered, pale complexion. It was true that Logan usually found himself attracted to women on the curvier side, but he could definitely see the appeal of Frieda. She appeared infinitely innocent, with vibrant eyes that were always stretched wider than what seemed to be their limit. Her body was considerably smaller than the average woman, but she had a certain agile lift in her step that made up for what she lacked in curves. Frieda mumbled in her sleep and rolled over, exposing her front. She had twiggy little wrists and from them emerged perfect, feminine hands with long, lithe fingers. The perfect hands to play piano, he mused thoughtfully.
But it was her glorious hair that Logan liked the best.
It was positively brimming with body, her fiery curls would bounce about as she walked. She was forever battling with the tresses to force them into some sort of styled order, but he appreciated the sight when they were flowing freely. She looked carefree and wild, like a cheeky little forest nymph plucked from a secret history book. Throughout the few days of his surveillance of the girl, his fingers had ached more than once to explore those curls. To dig his fingers in and burrow his nose in her scent.
"She smells good," his brother noted, as if reading Logan's thoughts.
He nodded, agreeing. "She always has a hint of floral to her. In the morning she smells very strongly of coffee and coconut."
"So you're familiar with it, then?"
"I suppose that will be helpful in the long run if she tries to escape."
Logan glanced at his older brother, and recognizing processes going on in his mind, decided that he did not need an explanation. Zane Blacc was an incredibly assertive and intelligent man, who disliked everything metaphorical or artistic. He was rigidly set in his ways, enjoying the comfort of statistics and complex computer problems as opposed to the touch of a woman. With Zane, what you saw was what you got. There were no underlying idiosyncrasies. Brutally honest, thoroughly calculating and beyond bookish - Zane was everything Logan was not. Logan jumped into situations without thinking, was extremely impulsive and relied heavily on his instincts to guide him.
This was a trait that Zane never failed to undermine.
"What are you thinking?" Logan inquired, uncharacteristically curious.
"I want to know why Tobias was there at the same time as you. And I want to know why Evie showed up and asked to stay with us. It's entirely too coincidental that this all happened at the same time." Zane glanced over at his younger brother, deeply concerned with the turn of events that had arisen. "Did you tell the girl anything?"
"Nothing," he replied, not once removing Frieda from his sight. There was a stray curl that he longed to sweep away from her face. "I didn't think that would be wise."
"Well, you're right about one thing." Zane offered, realizing what this must've meant to Logan.
"She's who you say she is. All the scans indicate she has the same lineage, DNA, dental characteristics, everything. Quite fascinating, really."
"What do you think this means?" Logan finally gave in to his desires, and swept the hair away tenderly, tucking it behind her ear.
Zane shook his head and ran a monstrous hand over his closely shaved scalp. "I don't know but I don't like it, Logan. I've never seen anything like this in my entire life. I'm not even sure it's possible." There was a pause and the brothers shot each other a look only they could decipher.
"Could you leave us alone for a moment?"
Tersely, the elder brother folded his shoulders and let the tension between them travel back and forth. It was difficult for them both, and Logan was being entirely selfish. They both knew it. "I don't think that's very wise," Even though he didn't want to leave, Zane knew that he'd give in eventually. "she'll be waking up soon."
"Go." Logan reverted back to his usual grumpy, expressionless self. The demand hung over Zane's head like anvil.
There was another long pause, where Logan thought that Zane would refuse again. But after releasing a thoroughly frustrated sign, the older man slipped away from the room, angry demeanor leaving the atmosphere thick with unsaid words.
Finally, when Logan emerged from the bedroom hours later, his overall attitude had not altered. He was still stomping around the house, snapping at anyone who dared irritate him. But there was something different, something unrecognizable brewing within him that he did not appreciate. His thoughts kept swaying back to the sleeping girl upstairs, and he anxiously waited for her to awake. He wanted answers. Needed them, even.
Eventually, she would awake. And then there'd be no telling what he'd do to ease his worry.
I could smell bacon and eggs.
Delicious, mouth-watering bacon and eggs. I imagined that I resembled something akin to a dog as I flung my nose in the air and sniffed longingly. My stomach pestered me, as if to spur my desire further and I wailed quietly into the pillows. It was a shame that I was hiding, because I was so desperately hungry.
I'd woken, believing that I was safely in my own bedroom, when the memories of the day before came flooding back to my consciousness. It was ridiculous really, but the first thing I'd done was blush at how close to me Logan had been. Once I'd quickly regained my senses, I'd pulled the covers around me stiffly, as if this were to protect me.
I had been sleeping in a stranger's bed. In a stranger's bedroom. And, I also assumed, a stranger's house. The gravity of the situation had my plunged my heart deep into my ribcage and I felt all the colour drain from my body as I imagined horrifying, torturous scenarios in which my captive forced me to do unspeakable things to him. Then I'd blushed at the absurdity of my actions and silently scolded myself. This what not the time, nor the place.
The bedroom was luxurious, boasting a simple form of grandeur. The four-poster bed was intricately carved, expert hands had created a beautiful scene, peeling out exquisite flowers and entangled vines in the deep wooden material. The stark white sheets were crisp and impossibly clean with a mocha throw-rug folded neatly at the end of bed and pillows matching the deep coffee shade. The rest of the room was fairly minimalistic, with a large bay window, a organized desk and a bedside table. The bedroom and closet doors were shut firmly and I hadn't yet plucked the courage from within me to explore these aspects of the room further.
Outside, the sights that greeted me were spectacular. It was obvious that I was not in suburbia. There were rolling, vibrant green gardens and blossoming flowers. My feet itched run amongst them. The trees were towering and healthy, and I spotted the perfect, peaceful place to have a picnic. Somewhere in the distance, there were mountains obstructed from view by the slight fog in the air. The garden was whimsical and beautifully magical, I couldn't possibly imagine a kidnapper living in such a pristine environment.
My stomach growled again and I hugged myself in a consoling manner.
I had no idea where I was, with very little in the way of self-defense. Unless I wanted to bonk my kidnapper over the head with the lonely clock ticking away on the bedside table.
I thought against it.
Suddenly, a terrible idea somehow shoveled its way through my onslaught on thoughts. What if this had something to do with my parents? They were both extremely celebrated lawyers in their respective fields. My father, a corporate lawyer, was grueling and arduous with his defense. My mother, who worked in the criminal justice department, felt the sting of working in a predominantly male-dominated industry. Which was why she worked that much harder to put hardened, filthy criminals behind bars.
Maybe my one of my parents had pissed off my kidnapper. Perhaps even himself had gone to jail? Or one of his buddies? Logan wasn't exactly Santa Claus, that much I was sure of.
He was predator. I could feel it in my trembling bones.
"What have I gotten myself into?" I whispered, scared out of my wits.
Suddenly, there was a sharp knock at the door and a pause, before the door swung open a crack.
I let out a terrified yelp and rolled off the bed, crawling underneath it for extra protection. I heard footsteps as someone entered the room, closed the door and coughed heavily. Feet came to the edge of the bed and I blinked in surprise when I realized they were female feet. Female feet wearing preposterously high heels.
They didn't look like the type of shoes someone would torture their victim in. Wouldn't a kidnapper go for something more sensible?
Laughter erupted, and I gasped in shock when I realized I'd said my thoughts out loud. Oh, my God. Could I have been more idiotic? I slapped my hand over my mouth, breathing erratically. Way to bait the kidnapper, Frieda.
A soothing, amused and distinctly female voice filled the silence of the room. "Well considering I'm not going to torture you, I think I'll stick with my not so sensible shoes." When I did not reply, she spoke again. "Did you really think I wasn't going to look under the bed?" I saw her cute-as-a-button knees as she knelt onto the carpet and a blonde head emerged, sporting a wide grin.
"I was hoping you were ridiculously stupid." I explained numbly.
She giggled, "Well, I promise you, I'm not going to hurt you. So why don't you come out so I can talk to you properly? As lovely as this is, I'd like to get back to my breakfast." My stomach growled at the mention of food and I went bright red. She smiled sympathetically, "You should join us, you must be starving."
I hesitated. "Is that caveman dude down there?"
She let out another string of giggles before nodding. "But I promise you that I'll keep him in line."
It took a few more minutes to coax me from underneath the bed, but once I'd crawled out my cramped limbs thanked me for it. Twisting around, I observed the woman in front of me with a mixture of fear and jealously. She was possibly one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. Rivaling the looks of a Victoria Secret model, the lady had impossibly long, brilliantly pale blonde hair and cloudy gray eyes. She was several inches taller than me, with milky white skin and the strong, powerful legs of someone who'd worked hard on their body. But most of all, her dazzling smile was what stunned me.
Her pearly whites sparkled from underneath her perfectly shaped pink lips. I felt my heart do a complicated, gymnast-worthy flip deep within me.
"My name is Evelyn," she spoke, completely unaware of the green monster raging within me. "but my friends call me Evie."
"Er," I felt so clumsy and foolish beside her. "...hello."
My voice was barely above a whisper, and yet it was as though she'd heard me perfectly clearly. "Are you hungry?" She was grinning at me enthusiastically, so much so that it made me feel squeamish.
"I...suppose," I was beyond confused at these turn of events. Wringing my hands nervously, I searched about for something to defend myself with, hoping I'd missed an obvious make-shift weapon upon my first inspection. "but since when do kidnappers offer their victims breakfast?" My search failed. The room was positively barren.
Evelyn rolled her eyes, "Logan can be such a brute, I'm sorry. He shouldn't have frightened you so much." I merely blinked at her expectantly. She was being so hospitable, it was thoroughly befuddling. "You'll understand soon enough,"
"I'd like to understand now, please." I felt my resolve growing stronger by the minute. How dare these people pretend they were in the right!
Evelyn smiled in apathy, "I don't think I am the right person to tell you that unfortunately, Frieda." While her words were kind and light, they held a certain amount of underlying stubbornness, alerting me to the fact that she did not intend on granting my wish. "Let's just go downstairs, drink some orange juice and eat a lovely meal, 'kay? All your questions will be answered...in time. Please, be patient for us."
Emotion bubbled within me. Be patient. Patient? She was asking for patience? I felt my anger begin to grow and rise, threatening to spill over the edge. I'd held it together up until now, hoping desperately my silence would warrant an explanation. I'd been yearning for this to be over, to wake up and shake off the strange dream. I wanted to be back home, laughing with Danielle and watching crappy, dramatic TV. The dam exploded and I let felt my fury escalate.
"No!" Evelyn blinked in surprise at the sudden change of my disposition. My fury gave me strength. Courage. "I will not be patient!" My chest was heaving weightily, my breaths releasing in uncontrolled, wheezing pants. "How dare you. I cannot believe your sheer nerve. You've taken me from my home, drugged me, laughed at me and now you refuse to tell me what the hell is going on. Do you seriously think I'm going to let you push me around?"
"Look," Evelyn said speedily, "you're not in any danger."
"And how do you expect me to believe you?" I was raging now, blind with ferocity.
She arched one perfectly manicured eyebrow and sighed. "I understand you're frustrated, but this will all go a lot more smoothly if you just trust us."
"Trust you? Trust you!" I flung my arms in the air and laughed at the ludicrously of her suggestion. "You could be murderers! Rapists! Who the hell knows what you've done to your previous victims? I've seen Human Centipede. I know what kind of psychos lurk out in the world, waiting to ambush perfectly innocent people like me."
Evelyn gaped at me, stunned.
"What?" I asked, "Did you expect me to lie down and take it? I might be a weedy, skinny-ass girl but that does not mean I'm going to let you amputate me or God knows what else you've got planned."
She spluttered. "You think we're going to amputate you?"
"I don't know! You're supposed to be the criminals, isn't that what you people do?" I was backed up against the wall now, heart pounding madly. I'd let my anger get ahead of me and insulted her. Who knows what she'd do now? Sense started to creep back into my thoughts and I gulped, suddenly seizing up. How could I have been so stupid?
"Okay," my captive let out a frustrated breath, obviously trying to compose herself. "I know you're scared. I know this is all very confusing and you're probably terrified right now, but I can promise you that all I came to do was offer you something to eat. You really should have something to eat before the sedative completely leaves your system."
My stomach gurgled, furious with me for refusing food this long.
"Okay," I let out a breathy, tired whisper. "but only because my stomach is starting to eat away at my lining."
She screwed up her nose, but nodded anyway, heading towards the door.
I tentatively followed closely behind her, cautiously waiting for someone to jump out and restrain me. But no one did. I stared down at the threshold of doorway, where the expertly cleaned carpet met gleaming, polished hardwood floor. My toes wriggled, and for the first time I realized I was still wearing the same socks from the other morning. I smiled at the little bit of home, took an enormous breath and stepped over the edge - heartbeat in my ears.
"Welcome to Blacc Manor," Evelyn's words broke through my distractions and my head whipped around, gasping at what greeted me.
An attempt at a cliff-hanger!
I dislike the stories where the heroine has been plunged into a new world/situation and she immediately adapts to it and is fine. That isn't realistic, so I tried very hard to steer clear from that.
I really tried hard to show Frieda's dramatic side, here. You saw a bit of it at the party and snippets with Danielle.