E-Written: Elle 02

Mike watched his step daughter shuffle into the kitchen and get a poptart out of the cupboard, then shuffle back. She hadn't showered at all, or hardly come out of her room in weeks. She had intended on going to Houston early to get a job, but as far as he knew, she wasn't even going to go to college anymore.

Since the day he had picked her up, covered in blood and looking half out of it in shock, she had hardly spoken at all. He couldn't say anything to her, he had just lost his job out of the blue. 'Cutbacks' that didn't affect a single other person in the facility, just him. The income from her estate was all that was keeping them in the house. He had been loath to mention it to her, having been her guardian and executor of her estate, he had never once mentioned to her that she even had an inheritance. He would have to when she moved out, but if she didn't...

He had secretly been overjoyed when she disappeared, having a good excuse as to why he hadn't handed everything over to her. Now he had just as viable an excuse, she was in no state to handle it. Whatever had happened to her had clearly unhinged her.

Anna came out moments later. "Daddy, my card still isn't working and I need this purse! Can I use yours again?"

"Have you called to see why yours isn't working?" he asked irritably.

"No, I've been busy. Some weird glitch online happened and I got locked out of all of my social media. I had to make new everything and I have been trying to regain my followers. Can I get it, Daddy?"

"This is the last one. Call today and see why yours isn't working."

"Thanks Daddy!" she cried happily, running back to her room.

Mike looked and Elle was in her doorway, looking at him numbly. "Are you alright?" he called to her.

"She thinks her social media accounts were all accidentally deleted all at the same time, and at the same time as her credit card? Has she called her bank? Have you? Does she have an account anymore, or were those deleted too? How long has she been just using your card?"

Mike felt his face go red with anger as he blustered. "She can use my card if she wants to! That's no concern of yours!"

Elle just dropped her eyes and slipped into her room, shutting the door.

Mike immediately began calling the bank to find out what was going on.

Elle sat down on her bed, wondering if Anna was really that stupid. Who didn't realize they had been erased? Even if it was summer break.

She looked at her half packed bag that had been there since before the conference. She had started packing to leave for Houston, to get a job before school started. Now she felt like school was a little ridiculous.

She made herself sit up. Was she going to hide in Mike's house the rest of her life? Put up with his glowering looks every time she poked her head out?

She went through her clothes and went to take a shower, the water washing away some of her dark mood. It had been weeks and no one had come for her. No word at all, not even a phone call. Anna had still had her phone and wallet, she had tossed them in her room when she got home that first night after Elle had disappeared.

Maybe he was dead and no one was looking for her? Maybe he was letting her go. Maybe he was in the hospital.

Every scenario had gone through her mind over and over again. Even being dragged away by the police for murdering him.

She went back to her room, drying her hair on the way and Mike stopped her.

"You have mail here, it's been stacking up."

She paused and looked at the stack, then went through it, tossing most of it. She paused at one of them, staring at it.

Lenotre.

She turned it and opened it slowly, her hand shaking. Acceptance, tuition paid in full for the culinary arts program. Class schedule. Everything.

Enraged, she ripped it in half, then again and again before flinging it at the trashcan. She fled to her room and finished packing, then got online to find a job near the dorms and a bus ticket.

In two days, she was on her way out the door, her bags in tow when Mike stopped her.

"Elle, we need to talk."

"My Uber is here, is it important?"

"Kind of. It's about what your mom left you."

"What my mom left me? My mom had nothing."

"She had insurance, and she inherited her parents estates which fell directly to you since she was gone."

"What? I had grandparents?"

"They were estranged."

"When did they die?"

"A couple years ago. Your grandfather seven years ago, your grandmother two. Do you... remember your freshman year I think it was? The older lady who came over for dinner and asked you all those questions?"

"Mirriam, I remember."

"That was her. She didn't want to upset you and say who she was since you thought she was dead, but she wanted to see you. I let her because... it was a condition she put in her will. I am your legal guardian so I am in charge of all of that until you move out. It's usually 18, but since you turned 18 during your school year, the wording was changed."

"How come you never told me?"

"I never discuss business with either of you girls."

"But I could have just paid for school and done what I wanted to! I didn't have to do something I hate to get a scholarship!"

"It was my prerogative and it was a valuable lesson for you about working hard for your dreams."

"Right. As my guardian, how much did you get to take care of me? All this time I thought you were just being as nice as you were able because of my mom. How much, Mike?"

"That doesn't matter. All that matters is now that you are moving out, we need to find a new solution. I am still your guardian and still keeping a room here open for you, so I feel like I am..."

"You are what, Mike? Entitled to it? After how you have treated me, you and Anna? Is this how we are living here in this neighborhood when the other people you work with live in middle class suburbia? Is that how you moved us here?!?"

"Elle, I wanted a better life for you, a better place."

"A better place! Seriously? You gave Anna two bedrooms with the master for yourself and me the little office nook and the whole time it was coming out of my inheritance? You have some fucking nerve telling me about what you are entitled to, Mike! Fuck this," she snapped. She dropped her bags and pulled out her phone and called her old guidance counselor from school, one of her two friends in the world.

Within 48 hours, she had a lawyer and charges filed against Mike, forcing him and Anna out of the house to stay with his mother.

The rest she could take care of from Houston. She had a job lined out and she kept it since it seemed Mike meant to keep her inheritance tied up in court. She cared less about getting it and more about keeping it out of his and Anna's hands. Hateful, hurtful people. She found a cheap car and basically lived out of it for a couple of weeks as she worked as many hours as she could get, then found a temporary roommate until college started and she could move in the dorms.

She liked the little coffee place she was working at and she liked her coworkers, even if it did take time to get used to being around people again and not being afraid every time she turned around and someone was there.

By the time school started, she felt comfortable in her job and in the area, but was less happy about the dorms. She liked her quiet, goth, wiccan roommate at the little apartment a lot more than she liked the bubbly cheerleader she was sharing a room with. She reminded herself she was also a cheerleader, but the thought of getting in front of massive crowds and smiling made her want to puke.

When practice was getting ready to start, she considered not going. Quitting that and college and working until she could put herself through culinary school.

Once the idea occurred to her, it stuck and she did it. She moved back in with Luna and worked full time, excited to have a plan. As soon as she saved a few hundred dollars, she went to the local tattoo place and went in, looking around.

"You need something?" an older man asked darkly.

"Yeah, uhh, I need this covered," she said, showing him the snowflake over her heart.

"Wow, that's pretty big... and really good work. Why would you want to cover it?"

"I just do. How much?"

"Something that big? It would have to be bigger and I would have to draw up something around it to cover it with. Probably 14 to 18."

"Hundred?!?"

"Yeah, babe. How much did that piece set you back? You had to know covering it would be more."

She sighed and left, then took a weekend off and drove back to San Antonio. It was easy to find Ricky's tattoo parlor and she stalked in Friday night, furious.

He recognized her right away as he stood up off the man's arm he was working on. He went pale as he looked behind her, as if looking for cops.

"I'll be right back, man, I need to take this," he said to the man. "I'll discount you."

He went to the back to a curtain and nodded her back, but she hesitated. "Out here," she demanded.

"It's cool, just back here out of the other customers way. Please?"

She stepped back, crossing her arms. "You are going to cover this monstrosity on my chest and you are going to do it for free."

"Yeah, yeah, no problem. I can draw something up and have it to you by next weekend."

"No. Before Sunday, I have work Monday I have to be back for."

"Sunday! There's no way, I am booked solid all weekend!"

"Then I tell the FBI agents I have been working with about you and what you did to me. Right now they think I have no name or identity and I was drugged. You do this by Sunday or I tell them."

"Fuck, fine! What's a good number for you? I will draw some things up and send them to you. Can I see it again? Measure it?" he asked.

She showed him and he put his hand on it, measuring against his palm.

"Wow, are you sure? It really does look amazing. Can I see the one on your hip?"

"No, and yes, I am sure. I want his brand off of me."

Ricky nodded. "Ok, I'll get on it, but seriously... there is no way I can have it ready and done by Sunday. Can you come back next weekend? Or even like, Wednesday?"

"I have Thursday off, I can come back then."

"Awesome, cool. Thanks. I will work up something great, I promise you. You have anything in mind?"

"Something opposite."

"Like the sun?"

"Yeah."

"I can work with that. Ok, I will text you mock ups, ok?"

She didn't answer as she scribbled her number and name down, then left. She was able to pick up shifts that weekend and get Wednesday off and she was both excited and terrified. It was going to hurt, but she would be rid of that constant reminder of that week of hell.

Tuesday she had clocked out, and was considering going to San Antonio that night when a woman stepped in front of her in the parking lot.

"Hello, it's Rainelle Brooks, right?"

"Rainelle Lewis now, may I help you?" Elle asked warily, looking up at the tall, leggy, beautiful blonde. She was perfect in a completely plastic way.

"Hello. I am Marjori Hallan."

Elle froze, shock ringing to her toes.

"I see you recognize my name even if you didn't recognize me. I wanted to speak to you, if you please."

"About?"

"About my son. There is... something very wrong with him and I think you might be able to help me find out what. Can we speak privately, please?"

"Ok..."

"My car is right here," she said, gesturing to a limo as a man opened the door.

"Oh, no, no thanks. We can go inside at a booth or something."

"It really will only take a moment, you understand why I am upset, right? I need to know how to help my son. I don't want to be where those people might overhear, do you know what it would do to our family name?"

Elle sighed and looked at the empty seat, then back at the woman who looked like she was in pain. She eased into the car and the woman followed, the man closing the door and getting in.

"Now, I understand you were a guest of his at the hotel we stayed at in San Antonio?" she asked as the man put the car into gear.

"I don't want to go anywhere!" Elle yelled, grabbing at the handle and yanking.

"Oh, dear, it stays locked if the car isn't in park, it's ok. I don't want to sit in the parking lot and anyway, my husband also wants to know what happened. Wynter has been beside himself and we don't know how to help him. He needs help, but he won't tell us what happened. Nothing. We looked into it and discovered you were his guest that week."

"Guest is not the right word. Prisoner. Captive. Rapee. Torture subject."

"Oh, dear, I am so sorry! We are going to get this sorted! I promise you! And we will get him the help he needs. I want to know everything, every single thing that happened, but I want you to tell my husband too. He needs to know all of this too. I don't know if he will sign the commitment papers if he doesn't hear it from your mouth."

Elle glowered at the woman, feeling like this was a little much. Would his parents hunt her down to commit their only boy? Wouldn't that tarnish their name? It would be worse if he hurt someone or himself, she guessed. Maybe the woman actually cared about him.

"Your husband is here in Houston?"

"Yes, we have one of those Airbnb houses by the river, he is there."

"Why now?"

"It is getting bad, we didn't know what else to do. Not since that week when he harmed himself the way he did. It is all we can do to keep him from killing himself."

Elle sat back. She knew, on some level, those words should have evoked a sympathy response, but she had none for Wynter. One less abusive asshole in the world. "Where is he?" Elle asked warily.

"A hospital back home. Sedated for now."

Elle let out a breath slowly. She had been afraid she was being taken to where he was. "How far?"

"Not much further. Cris?"

"6 minutes according to GPS," the driver answered quickly.

"So, Rainelle, tell me about you. Wynter has said so little of that week."

"Because he is a kidnapping rapist. Who wants to tell people about how they tortured someone for a week? He tattooed me! Permanently. Pierced me. Raped me repeatedly, drugged me a lot. He's a psychopath."

"I understand why you would feel that way. My husband is going to be so upset to hear all of this, but he does need to hear it. Do you think you could write a statement and sign it? So we can have him committed more easily?"

"Yeah... yeah, I can do that," Elle agreed, surprised.

"That will make it easier. Thank you and I am so sorry that happened to you, Rainelle."

"Elle."

"Elle. Thank you, Elle! Here we are, that is the house there, the glass one up on the hill by itself," she said gesturing.

Elle looked at the huge mirrored glass house that looked more like art than a home and stared. She was once again struck by the opulence of this family as they pulled up and stopped.

Cris opened the door and let them out and Elle followed the taller woman into the house, feeling small in her wake. The house was huge and open and the first thing Elle noticed was that it was definitely a smart house with panels everywhere and digital everything. It was monochromatic minimalist, like something out of a magazine.

"Ok, dear, I will get my husband, he is probably in his office having a drink. You go have a seat right through that door and we will be in, ok?"

Elle looked at the far door across the room and nodded, heading towards it as Marjorie went the other way. She pushed the door open and went in, pausing at the view across from her of the river and the gardens behind the house. The second thing she saw, with confusion, was the bed.

A bedroom?

She blinked and turned slightly, taking the bed and it's contents in. The black slinky dress, the single high heeled shoe, the diamond torque necklace and earrings.

She turned back to the door to leave and froze again, getting her second shock.

Wynter.

He was standing right there on the wall, a small black shoe in his huge hands.

"No!" she whispered, her knees buckling.

"So much drama," he said calmly, standing off the wall.

She stared at his face, his perfect face. Nothing at all wrong with it. Had she missed? His eye was fine. Had she imagined it? Just bruised him?

"Hello, Elle," he said gently, stepping up to look down at her. He held the shoe up. "You misplaced this last time we saw each other."

"You... you can't! You CAN'T! I saw you..."

"Wow. That's all you have to say? No 'hi', or 'sorry I destroyed half your sight'? Did you miss me?"

"No! NO! Get away from me!"

"I missed you too. A lot. Tried to get over you, but that shit was not happening. I couldn't even get off anymore because it wasn't you I was fucking. How fucked up is that shit? Wasn't quite ready for you yet, had to improvise. Couldn't have you covering up my beautiful work. Still, I have everything I need to make it work."

"You... you got your mother to help you kidnap me?" Elle asked incredulously.

He laughed. "Fuck no. That was some actress. Driver is real though. Me and Cris go way back. See, if you knew anything at all about my family, if you had bothered once to look me up, see how I was doing? You would have known that wasn't my mom. That was my own little 'fuck you'. She doesn't even look like my mom. So you fucked yourself there."

"How did you know I was getting the tattoo covered?" she asked, scooting back.

"I was having you followed. Also, Ricky called me the second you left. Nice lie about the feds by the way. Gretchen? Your boss? For a couple hundred a month, she keeps a live feed on you at work, gives me your schedule and tells me every single thing you tell her. She sold you out for two hundred a month, Elle. Bobby sold you out for fifty a month."

"You told him to hit on me, ask me out," she said numbly, shaking her head.

"Sure did. Why don't you get up off the floor?"

"Just... back up..." she said, shaking her head and moving back until her back was against the glass wall. "You are why Ben quit?"

"He was getting too close. You can have all the female friends you want, no guy friends. Same with Todd."

"Todd?"

"The hot guy who worked there for like one week last month."

"I never even talked to him."

"But he noticed you. Was going to ask you out. I knew you didn't like Bobby, but I wanted him to fuck with you. Keep things normal so you wouldn't feel like no one liked you every time I got rid of a guy who showed interest. I was controlling everything, watching everything."

"Why? WHY? Why couldn't you just let me live my life?!?"

"Because I can't live mine without you. Do you know how long I spent in therapy with the stupid transplanted eye? Learning how to see all over again? You owe me, Elle."

"I don't owe you anything! Not after what you did to me! You are out of your mind!"

"Tone down the yelling," he said, turning and going to the bed. He bent and picked up the necklace. "Come here."

"No."

"Elle, let's don't start on the wrong foot, ok?"

"I said NO!" I won't do anything you say! You are not ruling me with fear this time, I would rather DIE than give in to you!"

He nodded, smiling and went back to her, kneeling down to put the necklace on her.

"No! I don't want that!"

"I didn't ask," he shrugged, allowing the magnetic lock to pull it together behind her neck. He stood up. "Come put on the dress, I never got to see you in it."

"No!" she yelled, reaching up to yank the necklace off.

Her body seized, every muscle locking up as the collar around her neck electrocuted her.

It stopped and she lay there whimpering and panting, her hand fluttering around the necklace.

"I wouldn't touch it again, it's pretty sensitive," he said congenially. "That was the low setting by the way. Never touch it, never try to take it off. Don't go near either outside door with it, that setting will make you piss yourself. Come put the dress on."