Page 54 of Left In The Dark

He frowns, reaching for me again. Before his finger can come into contact with my cheek, he takes off one of his gloves and rubs the tip of his thumb under my eye. The skin‑to‑skin contact feels good. So much softer than the glove. So much like Logan’s hands. But it’s not him. What’s he doing while I’m here? Happy I’m gone? Relieved I’m no longer a problem?

Why am I focused on that when my captor is witnessing one of my weaknesses. Seeing the proof of how pathetic I am. Does he see now? I’m not good at being strong either, because I’m not good at anything. I can’t handle the smallest task.

“Stop crying,” I hear my dad’s voice say, so loud, it rings in my ears.

“Hey . . . look at me. Many strong people cry. The strongest of people. Showing vulnerability and emotion isn’t a weakness. It’s better to let it out than hold it in.”

I blink up at him, shoulders dropping. All tension in my body follows behind it when the sincerity shows in his eyes. “You don’t care if I cry?”

“No. I actually prefer it. I can tell you’re not putting on an act when you do. Like you’re actually letting your true self out instead of what you think you need to be. This is you. Let it out. Don’t hide it.”

“Okay.” I sniff.

Drawing a breath, he backs away again and looks behind him. “It’s time for bed now, and it’s been way over ten minutes.”

Forcing a smile, I scoot back to the soft parts of hay, gathering my blanket around me. “Would it be . . . is it too much for me to ask for a radio? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”

Lips tightening, he scrubs at his jaw. “I might be able to do that. We’ll see in a week if you’ve been good enough to earn it.”

“Okay,” I whisper, scooting closer to the space heater. “Thank you for staying.”

“Sure. And thank you for using your manners. See how good you can be? Nothing is unattainable.” He steps one foot forward to pat me on the head. “See you in the morning, piglet.”

That’s my cue to stop playing human, and I do, oinking as I burrow myself under the blanket. His eyes glow in satisfaction and there’s a hint of pride there. I welcome it. Because I want to hold on to that good side of him whenever I do something to summon the bad.

When he turns around again, I don’t stop him from going down the ladder and walking out the door. Instead, I stay quiet, shutting my eyes and telling myself to be good during my bath, so I’ll get more human privileges at night and more of his company. Because when he was talking to me, I didn’t have to hear the unwanted voices in my head. Doesn’t mean I want to hear him, he was just much more prefered today. His words were. He said the strongest people cry and I was worth the effort. He said I helped him and that I can’t ruin anything.

Either way, I’m a prisoner. Except I felt more trapped in my old life than I do here. My stomach rolls and I open my walls to remember why this isn’t better. I’m lying on prickly hay in a non‑insulated cold barn. I’m fed from a fucking pig feeder and drinking water from a bowl. I have to get out of here. That needs to be my goal. Not being his perfect piglet and polite, patient human. But those things will most likely be the ticket to my freedom, won’t they? So I’m doing it for me. Not him.

“For me,” I say out loud, settling against the hay and closing my eyes again, quickly falling into an easy slumber when I think of him telling me how good I’m doing after I try.

Sixteen

Logan

It’s not enough. I pace outside the barn, holding a bucket of water and a bag full of toiletries. Eyes on the lock, I urge myself to calm down before walking inside. Hayden scratched for a few days, had bites on parts of his body, but remained an insufferable prick. Wednesday night, I stopped by the local bar where I was told by my friends he’d be.

I never went inside. As soon as I spotted his car, I got out of mine with the jar of bugs in hand. Lucky for me, no one locks any kind of doors in this town. No one except me. I’m not so trusting anymore. The first door I tried opened, and I unleashed half the jar inside, spreading them as evenly as I could between the back and front seats.

Looking over my shoulder the whole time, I screwed the lid back on, and disposed of my gloves and the cheap plastic coat I wore over my clothes. I dumped everything in the trash, checking myself over before slipping back into my car, and when I saw him exit with some older guy, I drove off. I didn’t stay to see who he was laughing with and throwing his hands on. Then this morning I woke up to a text from Jimmy informing me Hayden had nearly got him fired after sending him to the wrong location to treat the wrong house, twice.

I hate the guy. More needs to be done to him. More will be. For now, visualizing him at his desk, barking orders while he bleeds on that pretty face from his own nails will have to suffice for now. It’s a very short fucking now too.

On a deep exhale, I unlock the doors and pick the bucket back up. No sound or movement comes from up top as I enter and close the door behind me. My mom is gone, visiting my aunt again, but I can never be too careful when it comes to my dad. He hasn’t shown up since he last dropped by unannounced, however, I have gotten more angry texts. I don’t block him because I enjoy his anger too much, his downfall, losing everything he worked hard for bit by bit.

My mom has continued to stay quiet about him, and I didn’t want to give her a reason to think about all the shit he’s done if I don’t have to. She’s smiling again. Light fills her face and she giggles at her phone. I think she’s met someone, but I don’t pry. She’ll tell me when she’s ready. Unlike me, she’ll eventually talk about the new man in her life. What’s between me and Blake is just that. And whatever happened between him and my dad, if it in fact it ever took place, is over.

My dad lost the apartment. That I know for a fact. My grandma told me. He’s in her spare bedroom but hasn’t been home much. Must have a new boy toy or is wasting more money he doesn’t have on getting drunk every night. I don’t care what he does as long as he stays the fuck away from Blake. As long as they all do. With him always here with me, they have no choice but to.

The bucket has been lowered to the ground, and I switch it out with the one full of water. Still only piss. He hasn’t exactly had a proper diet since being here. As I’ve said before, I need him to need me in all ways. Then my word will be the only one that ever matters, even when I’m not around. He’ll beg for relief soon. The built-up pressure is already too much for him. He wiggles in discomfort, hugging his stomach all night. I’ll help him feel better when he’s ready for me to. Just like with the bath.

Blake blinks his eyes open when I finally make my way up the ladder. I lift the bucket high, setting it down between us, and he quickly sits up when I empty my pockets of biscuits and sausage in a zip-lock bag. I set them in the feeder and nod when he searches my eyes for permission to eat.

“Morning, piglet. Ready for your bath?”

He oinks twice. We’ll need other ways for him to show his enthusiasm—for him to communicate the way pigs do. A tail perhaps. I peek behind him, my cock perking up as I envision him kneeling the same way he is now, naked and with the plug wagging in his ass. Fuck. He wanted me to ogle him yesterday and I fought hard not to cave. It’s hard not to take in every part of him. More so when he’s partly naked with that perfect ass hanging out of his pants. The temptation is worse after knowing what he looks like between those fleshy mounds. What he feels like. I bet he tastes nice too.

I bite the insides of my cheeks. I can’t think about that. Not when I’m about to bathe him. Not ever. We can’t cross that line again because all it’ll do is distract me from what I’m trying to accomplish. He bats his lashes at me as he wraps those juicy lips around a piece of meat, and I ask myself what I’m supposed to be doing again.