Stranded Ch. 03

{As with most things I write, this story consists of Non-consensual themes (more of that in chapter 4 it seems), imprisonment, violence, religious fanatics and forced marriage/breeding. If any of these, or my terrible grammar, offends you, then read no further, this story is not for you.}

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My eyes opened wide as more water was expelled from my body making me feel like the girl from The Exorcist. I rolled onto my side, coughing and gasping desperately for precious oxygen in between the heaves of creek water. 'Sam' held my hair back, my chest burned as though they had been filled with liquid lava and I realized I had drowned. He had actually killed me and judging by the extreme tightness in my chest, resuscitated me as well. I was no longer in the creek but on the bank of it, nothing but soft cold mud beneath me.

"Oh, thank the Lord, I thought I lost you there for a minute sweetheart." His tone betrayed his cold demeanor, but the moment of concern was gone just as quickly as it came. The cold water had me shivering and my teeth began to chatter as I stared into his icy dark eyes and in that moment, I was really, really sorry I ran away.

"Did you know that in some cultures, liars get their tongues cut out?" A knife suddenly appeared in his hand and I tried to move, but my body was too numb and sluggish. He yanked my head back with a handful of hair, tracing my lower lip with the very tip of his blade; my ribs aching with every labored breath. The dogs sat on the grass nearby, quiet and still.

"Please...I'm sorry," I choked out, throat raw. My chest felt heavy, my lungs on fire. Throbbing pain pulsed in my wounds but was quickly fading into the cold numbness that was spreading throughout my body. Was I going into shock? Had I lost too much blood? There was a sharp sting as the blade slightly cut into my lower lip and I could feel the warmth of my blood run down my chin leaving behind the taste of pennies. Smiling, he sheathed his knife and stood, dragging me up by my hair until I was standing before him. Suddenly his lips came down and crushed mine, his tongue slithering into my mouth as we exchanged a coppery kiss that left him with blood stained smile and a tent in his jeans. I watched as more blood ran down my shoulder and I began to feel lightheaded, how much blood had I lost? I could see the discoloration around the puncture marks in my calf and the spaces where canine's teeth tore a few small chunks of flesh and immediately I felt nauseous. It was difficult for me to judge just how bad the wounds were with the endorphins and cold temperature.

"Now you broke the rules darlin' and so you need to be punished. Please pull up your dress."

"Please, don't make me do this...I-I-I can't..." I sounded pathetic, but his hand curled into a fist and my stomach dropped a little. He didn't care what I could or couldn't do, just the results.

"Do not make me repeat myself! The sooner we get this unpleasantness over with, the sooner I can take you home and stitch you up before you bleed to death." My left hand fumbled to grab the hem of my dress, hissing as I pulled it up it to my waist. The clothes, being wet from the creek, peeled away; my backside freezing, covered in sand and mud from the struggle. He tried to push me down onto all fours, but with an injured shoulder and leg I was teetering on opposite limbs just to stay balanced. Regardless I obeyed, my good knee sinking into the soft mud. He had already proven he had no qualms about ending my life if I was too much trouble; the crackling sound in my lungs reminded me of that. My body shook as his hand reached out and softly stroked the numb flesh of my bare ass. He squeezed and kneaded, and I felt my cheeks burn as his hand cupped my rear end.

"Mmm, just the right size..." he growled. There was hunger in his voice and I closed my eyes, praying for it to be over already.

"I am going to spank you and you are going to count them out loud, if you fail to count I am going to start over." I bit my lip as his hand moved swiftly through the air and slapped my ass. The first one stung and heat pooled to my core. Then he swung again, the pain intensifying as did my response to it. I counted each blow out loud, my face burning with humiliation. I wasn't a child and I resented the fact he was treating me like one. The sound of wet flesh hitting wet flesh echoed off the trees and every time I took too long to count out loud, the harder the next one seemed to be. I watched my blood run down and mix with the water only to be carried downstream by the current. It was only when I was begging to the point I had snot dripping down my face and my vision was hot and blurry from tears did he finally stop.

"No more lies between us, now repeat it." he ordered, his tone leaving little room for argument.

"No more lies between us," I recited, voice nearly breaking.

"Good, now let's go home." Whimpering, I managed to pull my dress back down, the fabric sticking to my body like a second skin. He helped me to stand and he wrapped my good arm around his neck as he picked me up and carried me towards the dirt bike where he sat me across his lap horizontally, careful to not bang my leg against the bike.

"Hold on." He started his bike, let out a sharp whistle and sped off back towards his house with his hounds in tow.

~

"It doesn't appear to be broken, but you're going to have to stay off of it for a day or two until you can put weight on it without any pain." I heard him shuffle with some things by the coat rack and he returned with a black physician's bag, the initials C.G stitched into the leather. 'Sam' reached into the black leather physicians' bag and pulled out a roll of ACE wrap and began winding it around my left ankle. I winced and whimpered but tried my best not to move. I could see the soft red flesh beneath my skin, the bruises already darkening.

"The bruises will fade," he announced as though he were reading my mind. He acted as though it were an everyday occurrence; as if he hadn't just forced me to the ground, killed me, brought me back then spanked me like a bratty child. I had hardly been awake long but dying and coming back had already exhausted me. My body was still shaking from the sheer panic that had been pumping through my veins. I kept the towel wrapped tightly, waiting for him to finish mending me so that I could dress again.

"I know these woods like the back of my hand; there is nowhere you can run that I won't find you. And I cannot promise I will be so lenient the next time you run away." I noticed he didn't say if but I was too cold to feel angry. Did he honestly think he had been lenient? If that was him taking it easy on me than I shuddered to think what else, he could have done. I folded my arms beneath my breasts and kept silent, there was nothing for me to say. Apologies were no use, sarcasm and talking back had only gotten me slapped. I was all out of tears for the moment, all I wanted to do was curl up and sleep. We both sat at the dining room table, my leg propped gently on his knee as he finished wrapping my ankle and moved onto the puncture wounds further up my leg.

"Odin and Freya must really like you, the damage is actually pretty minimal." he announced as he pulled out a bottle of sterile water and a syringe with the curved plastic tip. It didn't feel minimal, I was grateful the bleeding had stopped, but the pain was just below the surface.

"Where did you learn first aid?"

"Sammy's father was a Doctor, he taught us a few things."

"If you're not Sam... then who are you exactly?" I asked softly. He paused what he was doing and turned to me with the most serious of looks on his face and I wondered if perhaps I'd asked too much. But he returned to his task and after several moments of silence he answered me.

"My name is Arioch." The way he pronounced it sounded more like AR-ee-ock. He placed a towel beneath my leg and began to clean the puncture marks. I gripped the armrest, knuckles turning white as I tried to not to cry out in pain, the numb that had engulfed me was beginning to wane. I was unable to move my right arm very much without risking reopening the wounds in my shoulder. They had stopped bleeding for the moment, the dress I had worn was now a dirty wet heap upstairs. He had carried me up the stairs and made me rinse in the shower, I watched the stray mud and blood swirling down the drain with indifference. Arioch had made it very clear how disgruntled he was that we were forced to take another shower. But no matter how many times I apologized it never seemed to be enough. When he deemed the wounds clean enough, he grabbed some gauze, more ace bandage and began wrapping my calf too. It was tender, and it was all I could do not to start crying again.

"Why are you keeping me here?" I demanded bravely. He scowled as he let my leg drop from his lap and I whimpered as my leg flexed to prevent it from slamming into the chair.

"I have already told you why, you have been chosen." He stood, walking over to what I assumed was his liquor cabinet due to all bottles of booze, and pulled out two glasses from the cupboard along with an opened bottle of Jack Daniels. Arioch grabbed a handful of ice cubes for both glasses then he poured us each two fingers worth and sat back down across from me.

"You're gonna want to drink that before I start stitching up your shoulder." He announced as he took a sip from his own glass, the ice clinking against the side while he watched me, his piercing gaze making my skin crawl. Nobody paid me this much attention, I was a wallflower; I gone through most my life unnoticed and that was the way I preferred it.

"You'll kill yourself with the amount of alcohol you consume," I announced. Anything to break the silence. I didn't like being the object under his scrutiny.

"Spirits are the only way to drown out the voice that's been telling me this is wrong, that I should let you go and blah blah blah," he confessed.

"That's probably your conscious, you should try listening to it." My voice broke a little, drowning was so fucking painful.

"Father used to say it's the devil talking, trying to lead us off the path of righteousness. Sammy's mother had a heavy influence on him in his younger years, screwed with his values. But Father showed us the error of our ways. He says it's a woman's job to honor and obey her husband; and it is my duty to ensure your soul is clean and makes it to heaven so that we can spend eternity basking in the love and glory of Heavenly Father."

"I would rather burn in hell than have you as my soul's keeper," I spat, earning me a strong slap to the face that left my jaw aching. Did I never learn my lesson? Had dying taught me nothing? But the words always seemed to spill out faster than I could process them, a fast mouth, my father once described.

"Sammy likes you too much to allow that to happen. We will save your soul, you will find redemption for your wickedness through being a good wife and mother." I started to feel ill all over again.

"But I don't WANT to be your wife. I am not ready to settle down, I am too young, I haven't even finished school..." I began to protest but he cut me off.

"While I find your secondary education impressive you don't need it in order to be a wife and mother. Look at you, you're well past marrying age already." I might have been offended if it wasn't for the fact I was pretty sure his idea of marrying age was not quite 18 and I was barely over 21.

"What you want is irrelevant and you should feel blessed that you have been chosen to be Sammy's wife at all. Now, I know Sammy isn't perfect; I won't lie and say that he is. But he will never stop trying to be a good husband and a good father. You will be very happy here; I saw how much you liked it those first few days. You will get back there in time."

"If I had known your intentions I would have never accepted your help," I growled. He stared at me for the longest time before taking another drink and looking amused, the corner of his mouth lifted in a small smirk.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

"That you think you had any choice in the matter. Do you think it was a coincidence that Sammy happened to come across you, just miles from his home? Or that your car conveniently broke down there first place? Did you not wonder why the clerk at the gas station even recommended this particular road, where hardly anyone drives, and we live?" I felt my blood run cold as I started to connect the dots. The clerk at the convenience store had told me to take the scenic route. Was the conspiracy really that deep? Had this all been some elaborate plan just to kidnap me? If I hadn't come along, would it have simply been another unfortunate traveler? As I began going over the past few days, my thoughts went back to some of the broken-down cars in the Yard, abandoned he had said. What if they weren't abandoned? How many other women had he abducted? More importantly, where were they now? I doubted he had let them go; tears pricked my eyes at the realization that he had probably killed them, permanently.

"Ah, don't cry; it's difficult adjustment at first, but the sooner you embrace it, the easier life will get for you."

"And if I can't 'adjust'?" His eyes turned dark and he scowled at the mere thought of it.

"Eventually I'll give up trying, kill you and just find Sammy another wife," he replied with ease. He sounded cold, calculated and a knot began to form in my stomach.

"So which wife am I?" I asked bravely. How many other wives had failed to adjust before me?

"You will be his second. Megan's death was... rather unfortunate. That's why his sister had to disappear, you see. Didn't want to chance having a repeat." His tone gave the impression I should feel flattered at his thoughtfulness. I looked away, trying to hide the emotions waging war inside me. I was never really good at masking my emotions, but if I wanted to survive I knew I had to get better and fast.

"I know this isn't what you want, but in time you'll learn to love your new life, you just need to have a little faith."

"Fuck your faith," I hissed angrily. I knew I risked another slap to the face, but I couldn't help myself. He slammed his fist against the table causing me to jump, fresh pain jarring me awake.

"I have patience dear, but I don't advise testing it for too much longer," he announced, leaning towards me in warning.

"My father is all I have left, I can't lose him," I sobbed, fresh tears finally bursting free. The thought of never seeing him again, of him never knowing what became of me, it was almost unbearable. What if he died without ever knowing what became of me? Without ever getting to say goodbye?

"It is an unfortunate but necessary loss. In order to fulfill your new role, you have to let go of your life that was before. This is your life now." My lower lip quivered with rage; I wanted nothing more than to leap across the table, my fingers aching to rip the smirk right off his face. How could he honestly expect me to let go of my entire life? My father's health was already so fragile, he was probably trying to find me already, it had been days since I'd called to check in.

"You don't understand I'm his whole life. He'll die of heartbreak when I don't come home."

"This conversation is finished." Gone was the charming shy guy leaving this brute in his place. When I opened my mouth to protest he cut me off.

"I will not say it again." His grip tightened on his glass and I knew I was pushing my limits. He finished his drink and poured himself another. For a while he just drank his whiskey and studied me in silence. The intensity of his gaze forced me to look away, focusing instead on my own glass.

"You better drink some of that." I shook my head, wincing as it tugged the flesh of my shoulder. I wondered briefly if there'd be permanent damage, as it stood every slight turn of my head or movement of my arm sent fresh pain through my shoulder; my leg began to throb. I swallowed past the lump forming in my throat. I had never been bitten by a dog before let alone hunted down and nearly torn apart. I jumped when I felt Hanks wet nose press against my forearm, Arioch gave Hank one look that had him backing away whimpering. It was as if he could sense the shift in personalities and it was clear he didn't like this one any more than I did.

"I am not going to tolerate your complaints when I'm stabbing you with a needle and thread," he warned.

"I understand," I replied. I didn't need the influence of alcohol, especially while being held prisoner and I found myself wishing Sam would return. I'd take an immature drunk over an psychopath. Arioch shook his head in disapproval but continued to drink his whiskey. He began to dig through the black bag beside him on the table, pulling out a curved needle and a small sealed package of thread. He dipped the needle in my glass, disinfecting it was my assumption which gave me serious doubts about how current his medical knowledge was. He scooted his chair closer until my good leg rested between his and my heart skipped a few beats as he leaned in.

My mouth suddenly went dry as I realized part of me was still scared of Arioch. I had been naive to think I could escape him so easily. My eyes were drawn to the knot on his forehead. A smallish lump had formed above his brow, the top split open and the skin had turned dark shades of black and blue. I had hit him pretty good and now I knew that next time I'd have to restrain him to keep him from coming after me. And I would definitely need to steal his tow truck, I tried to recall if it was an automatic or stick shift. I prayed it for an automatic.

"Why me?" I asked bravely. I wasn't anything special, why was I chosen?

"Well you're young, so you will can give Sammy plenty of children. It also means your mind is easier to retrain; you appear to be in good health. Plus, Sammy seems to really like you, he says your special." I flinched when he reached for me, but he ignored it as he shoved the needle through my torn skin. I cried out but a sharp look from Arioch had me biting my lip. It was a sharp pinch followed by burning as he pulled the thread through, tugging and pulling my skin. I felt another pinch just as the pain from the last one began to fade. My eyes welled with tears but I focused on my breathing instead. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Another pinch brought another whimper and I was certain Arioch was going to get fed up with me. I could feel small trails of blood run down my collarbone and soak into the towel wrapped around my body. The pain was nothing in comparison to the shower stream he'd aimed directly in the wound to clean it. He was silent as he worked, eyes focused on his task. The pain deepened the longer he went on and eventually I was forced to lean back and close my eyes.

I expected anger or at least mild annoyance, instead he surprised me by stopping, leaving the needle and thread dangling against my chest from his last puncture as he poured a glass of oj and fetched a granola bar from the cupboard. He didn't offer them to me, that would have given me the chance to decline; instead he pressed the cup to my lips and it was either drink or drown and I'd already drowned once for the day. He tore small pieces of the granola bar off and shoved them into my mouth. I was too afraid to spit it out and anger him further, so I ate it, despite the taste of my dried blood on his fingertips.

"We're almost done darlin', just a little bit longer.'" I nodded, and he resumed his task. Pinch. Burn. Inhale. Exhale. Every small wave of pain that lapped at the edges of my conscious I pushed away, and when he was finally finished all I wanted was to slip into the comforting darkness of sleep. He grabbed a hand towel from drawer beside the stove and got part of it wet before using it to wipe away the fresh blood. His touch was soft and gentle, I reached up and ran my fingers absently over the thin black thread that now kept my skin together. It was going to leave a gnarly scar, there was no doubt there; a permanent reminder of him. Arioch leaned back, pleased with his handiwork and began drinking the leftover whiskey in my glass.