Stranded Ch. 08

Welcome to my dark little corner of the universe, as with almost all the things I write, this story consists of many dark, Non-consensual themes, a little DV, some violence/abuse, imprisonment, kidnapping, and occasionally even a little bit of torture. This particular chapter includes her period, if that makes you squeamish, perhaps skip this chapter. If any of this or my terrible grammar offends you, then this is not the story for you!

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Arioch released the rope that bound my wrists and slowly pulled away, tucking himself back into his jeans. I studied the dented impressions left behind as I lay on the coffee table, body languid and sore. It took me several times to swallow so that I could speak clearly and be understood. I knew I wasn't going to be brave enough to say it a second time, that was, if I lived long enough to say it a second time. I wanted nothing more than to be courageous, but with the ebb and flow of the blistering pain, all I wanted was for it to stop.

"I would rather die a heathen, then spend an eternity with you." His gaze darkened, something I hadn't thought even possible until that moment.

"Would you rather I gave you to one of my cousins? If it hadn't been me that picked you up it would have been one of them...you think any of them are better? I have no doubts any one of them would be eager to have you as their bride. I'm not the bad guy here! I am only trying to keep you safe...all I ever do is keep everyone safe. I expect a little bit of rebellion; hell, I can even put up with some of that lip, but I will not tolerate you trying to leave us again." There was a long stale silence before he shook his head in dismissal and motioned me to stand with the crook of his finger.

"Come with me, darlin'." His tone made it clear there was no room for argument. It took me a minute to pull myself into a standing position while he stood by and watched me struggle. The bandage crinkled with every move and when I finally stood up straight the scalding pain returned tenfold, causing my vision to swim with bright colors.

Arioch caught me before I hit the floor, lifting me into his arms as though I weighed nothing at all, which I knew to be the farthest thing from the truth. Under any other circumstances, it might have even been chivalrous; in this instance it only reminded me how weak I was. He carried me down the basement stairs, the temperature drop sending a ripple of goosebumps across my skin. Arioch secured me to the cot with, surprise...another chain. It quickly became clear I wasn't getting any of the clothes back and I was too spent to protest. I just wanted to escape into the comforting world of slumber and not have to think about any of it. I didn't want to think about the raw look of hunger I had seen in his eyes. Or the sinister smile that spread across his face when I cried or begged, and how much wetter I was because of it. I didn't want to think about the fact that my chances of escaping were growing slimmer by the day. Arioch grabbed the blanket and pillow from beneath the bed and proceeded to tuck me in.

"The salve will help with healing and preventing infection, I'll change the bandage again in the morning. For now, don't mess with it." Then, I was alone with nothing but my own misery for company. How much longer was I going to be able to hold onto the small remnants of myself? Maybe it was time to stop focusing so much on escaping and spend more time observing. How did that old saying go...Know thy enemy? I was confident I had read it somewhere in a book. Perhaps the more I learned, an escape plan would come to me. Maybe even someday I could get him to let his guard down. But how long would that take me? Would I even survive to see that day? What if it took years? Would I have kids by then? Would he have other wives? The questions swirled endlessly around in my head until sleep pulled me under.

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My sleep was erratic throughout the night, between the flaring pain of the brand and the nightmares, when I woke, I felt more tired than I had before going to bed. The searing pain awoke with me, reminding me of my foolish decision the day before. I was tempted to peek beneath the bandage but was too afraid to see the damage he'd wreaked upon me. I did my best to keep my left leg still as I tried to sit up; every slight movement pulled the tightened skin and I felt something cold and wet puddled beneath me. Had the burn blistered and popped? I lifted the blanket, shivering as a whoosh of cold air reminded me that I was still naked, and felt woozy at the sight. The bandage had peeled back in my sleep, the adhesive having stuck to the blanket as I tossed and turned. I could see the top half of the G, the skin around the permanent mark was red and furious, the scab itself looked dark and yellow but I saw no blisters and when I investigated further, I found the source of cold wetness; it was blood. I was sitting in a small pool of it, some having already dried, some of it having soaked into the unprotected mattress beneath me. Could the seeds have worked this quickly? Or was it just my time of the month? How long had I been there? I never thought I would be so happy to see my period, but it meant I wasn't pregnant, at least not yet; which meant I still had time.

I slowly swiveled, whimpering with every movement as I tried to stand. I was reminded of the summer I spent at my grandmothers, a few years before she passed away, the beach was literally in her backyard and I 'forgot' to put on my suntan lotion. Truth be told I put on baby oil, I had been told by a friend it would get me a deeper tan. What I got was the worst sunburn of my life. Turns out sun poisoning is a real thing, my skin turned a bright cherry red, and I was covered in dozens of blisters within hours. The brand on my leg hurt more than that had, the surrounding flesh was sensitive, even the slightest brush of the blanket hurt. But the need to clean myself up was stronger. I hissed and growled as I forced myself to my feet, leaning more of my weight on my good leg. I limped my way to the washer and dryer already knowing beside them was a small utility sink, mostly used to clean off heavily soiled items. Like his jeans with all the caked-on mud towards the bottom of his pant legs. That pile hadn't been fun to scrub. I grabbed a washcloth from the pile of clean clothes, and I was just starting to clean up when I heard the basement door begin to unlock. I felt a wave of heat rush to my face and I began cleaning faster. I was beyond mortified, blood was everywhere, I didn't think he was going to be happy to see the mess I made. The muscles in my abdomen spasmed and I leaned against the washer for support. A few more locks opened, and I began cleaning in a frenzy. I was nearly all cleaned up when I glanced back and noticed the trail of bloody footsteps behind me; the sight of which had me feeling queasy and weak in the knees. Another gut-wrenching cramp and I doubled over as I fell to my knees, tears burning beneath my eyelids. I moaned, closing my eyes tightly as I tried to take slow deep breaths and ride the pain. I confess I was scared, the amount of blood seemed excessive in comparison to my past periods and I felt apprehensive that maybe something was wrong.

When more blood oozed out of my body and onto the cement floor that I had just managed to wipe clean, I finally lost my last shred of self-control and burst into sobs. The basement door opened, followed by the sound of quickened footsteps.

"KitKat are you alright?! Where are you?" There it was again, concern. I crawled backwards, hiding around the corner of the small room that housed the washer and dryer. Between the waves of pain all I could think about is how much I didn't want him to see me like this.

"Please, go away!" I cried. Embarrassed didn't cover what I was feeling in that moment. This was worse than those dreams where you show up naked to school. But of course, he didn't listen to me, instead he knelt.

"Are you injured?! Where is all of this coming from?" he demanded. I could only shake my head, and scoot further away.

"Did He do this to you?" Sam demanded angrily, eyes sweeping over me.

"No, I-I-I started my period." I wept, arms wrapped around myself as I tried to hide my nudity.

"Is that what has you so hysterical? What a ridiculous thing to worry about!" Maybe he meant it as comforting, but it only made me cry harder.

"C'mon KitKat, let's get you cleaned up; there is nothing to be ashamed of. All women bleed, it's just Eve's curse." I tried to calm myself down, I wasn't even sure why I was crying. Maybe I had stuffed too many emotions down and now it was finally bubbling over.

He held out his hand, but I shook my head, lower lip quivering as I looked down at my blood-stained fingers. There seemed to be so much of it. What if I ate too much and was now bleeding out? Least you won't be stuck with this psycho anymore. I shook the sinister thought away. While I was tired physically and emotionally, I wasn't ready to give up yet. I had experienced a moment of weakness that night with his cousins, but I didn't intend to repeat it. Sam shook his head as he reached down, grabbing my filth covered hands and pulled me to my feet. I realized my legs were shaking but I tried to pull away regardless, the dried blood was almost sticky and all I could think about was where it was coming from.

"You think a little bit of period blood bothers me!? It's only blood, wife. Certainly isn't the first time I've seen you covered in blood. I am a man, not a boy, it doesn't bother me, now quit being ridiculous and let me take off the chain and get you upstairs into a nice warm bath." Another twinge in my gut and I groaned. It felt almost as if someone was grabbing me by the uterus and twisting it while simultaneously trying to rip it from my body.

"Alright, no more arguments. Hold still." He pulled out his keys and freed my ankle before picking me up, one arm under my knees. I closed my eyes, counting the steps he took as he carried me away, certain we were leaving a red trail behind us.

"Is it always this bad?" I didn't want to answer, it was none of his business how heavy or light my time of the month was. It was personal, not even my own father had talked to me about it. I had learned through books, sex ed and reading instructions on the tampon box.

"Sometimes, I'm sorry about the cot." I apologized. But I couldn't very well tell Sam about the seeds, if the seeds were even the cause. It could be from all the stress, if was late sometimes it could be a little heavier.

"It can be replaced, don't worry about any of that." Sam was silent the rest of the trip up the stairs, mostly trying to conserve his breath. By the time he was halfway up the second flight he had broken a sweat over his brow. Once inside his bathroom he pulled a towel down, tossed it over the toilet seat and sat me on it.

After washing his hands with a little bit of soap he brought his attention to the bandage around the brand.

"Not the most practical of places to put it," he muttered beneath his breath. I sat there feeling disconnected, watching as he peeled the medical tape back, exposing even more of the damage that had been wrought. The rest of the G was like the top half, ugly and red. He crumpled it and tossed it in the small trash can beside the toilet.

"How does it feel?"

"It hurts," I replied, voice cracking. How else was it supposed to feel?

"I am putting on the shower, you are going to need to gently scrub it with some soap and water. Are you able to stand on your own and finish from here?" I nodded, not quite trusting myself to speak.

"Your girly things are under the sink, I am going to start cleaning up the mess." Then I was alone, unchained and confused. The sound of rushing water filled my ears and I could hear cupboards in the background. I moved like a zombie, clumsy and slow. I opened the cupboard under the sink and helped myself to the items I needed, surprised to see he was well stocked with both.

I drew the curtain when I finally managed to lift my leg over the edge of the tub and turned the shower spray on, I watched the swirls of pink get sucked down the drain. I kept my wound away from the direct spray and lathered up the washcloth. I was gentle, the skin felt hardened and stretched thin. I was going to have to stare at the mutilated flesh for the rest of my life. This wasn't some simple tattoo I could laser away. I would never be able to go to the beach, or the doctor's office; I'd see it every time I got dressed and I'd be reminded of the hell I'd been trapped in. I had never asked what the G even stood for. I had to assume it was their family name, that was the only thing that made any sense; then again, he wasn't exactly known for making the most sense. I was ruined, just as he had intended, nobody else was going to want me now. Another pang in my gut and I closed my eyes tightly, breathing through the pain. Maybe eating those seeds hadn't been such a great idea, but I was too terrified to admit to it now. The water had just turned luke warm when Sam finally returned and joined me. I managed not to flinch when he reached towards me and tucked a wet clump of hair behind my ear.

I knew without looking into his eyes that it was Sam. Even when Arioch was pretending to be Sam, there was always a presence surrounding him, as if he had his own energy field, that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. That man had demons battling within him and no matter how hard he tried, nothing he did seemed to shake the shadows from his eyes.

"How do you and Arioch communicate with each other?" The question seemed to catch him off guard, he squinted his eyes suspiciously and hesitated.

"That's kind of a long story, one for another time."

"Alright, can I ask what the G stands for?" I was hoping since he brushed off the previous question, he'd feel more obligated to answer this one.

"My family's surname is Galen; my great-great granddaddy Abraham was the first of the chosen to brand his wife. He made a brand for each of his sons, they made one for each of theirs...and so on. This one was given to me by my father, it was one of the first gifts he ever gave to me. He had it made the day he found out I was born or at least that's the story he told me. And I'll have one made for each of our boys too." I didn't want to entertain the notion of children again, so I quickly changed the subject.

"Why did you pretend to help me for those first three days? Why did you wait to make me your wife?"

"Because I honestly wanted to help you; I really did intend to fix your car and get you back on the road..."

"Why didn't you then?! Why play games? Why make me believe you were going to help?" I demanded.

"He said we couldn't let you go, it would put the family at risk. He kept sabotaging me every step of the way. He's the one who took your car apart, he's the one who dropped your phone, and I soon came to realize nothing I did mattered. He was never going to let you leave. So, I figured if I could get you to fall in love with me, maybe it would make the transition easier for you. After he took your car apart, I began to grow accustomed to the idea of you staying here, with me. But it seemed the closer I tried to get, the further away I managed to push you." He looked troubled by the revelation and it dawned on me that he was genuinely displeased by this fact. Like he couldn't fathom why I wasn't swooning before him.

"It takes a lot longer than a few days for someone to fall in love."

"I agree, it was stupid notion, I see that now. But it's alright. If my father has taught me anything, it's been patience. I can wait, you'll fall for me eventually; soon enough you won't be able to help yourself." And I knew down in the deepest parts of my soul that he was right; already I could feel myself softening towards him. If I behaved, if I fulfilled my role, would Sam stay around more? Would Arioch eventually cease to be? Or would I be forced to live with his darkness forever?

Sam shut off the water and after reaching around me, wrapped me in a large fluffy towel. The warm water had helped with the cramps, but it did nothing for the searing pain from the brand. He placed a clean towel down and he helped me out of the tub. I sat down and studied the wound again. Some of the scabs were softening. With a towel wrapped around his waist he disappeared for a moment. There were sounds of him shuffling around in hallway, when he came back it was with his black bag. When he pulled out the small glass bottle and needle, I felt panic well up in my chest. I was getting real sick of being sedated. It left my head fuzzy and gave me the worst case of cottonmouth.

"What is that?!"

"Relax, it's to take the edge off. I can't have you bitching and moaning while we go frolicking around in the woods with my Uncle." I looked away, wincing at the small pinch of the syringe. Warm tingling pooled through my body, like that first sip of hot chocolate after being out in the freezing cold. He knelt on the floor before me, pushing the towel up to reveal the wound.

"At least you didn't move, it's so much worse when they move. Aunt Em has three of them. Two of them on her arm overlapping, she refused to hold still, and then she's got another on her butt cheek for trying to run, once. She couldn't sit right for weeks." he mused.

"Why didn't you just drag her behind your tow truck?" Sam frowned as he pulled out the jar of cream and slowly began lathering it on, fingers pressing a little harder than what seemed necessary, but where was complaining going to get me?

"It may have been my truck, but it wasn't me who was driving. What happened to that girl, it makes me sick! Em told me the story she told you; you know, it's common practice for old wives to help new ones adapt. Some husbands punish all of their wives even if it's only one that tries to run. That girl ran away almost once a week; she always managed to find the right moment. If Dale hadn't taken care of it, the conclave would have sent Earl. Dale might be a bit cruel, but he's a decent man overall and I have no doubt he loves his wives. Not even he wanted to subject Annabeth to that." What could be worse than being dragged up and down a gravel road until you resembled roadkill? I tried to swallow, mouth going dry; what made Earl so terrifying?

He put the cream away and carefully bandaged it back up. The pain killer had indeed taken the edge off and I found myself more relaxed than I had since arriving on his property.

"Your dress is on the bed." I didn't argue, instead I watched him pick up his black bag and walk out. It was strange to be alone and unchained, even if it was only for a few short moments at a time. I felt as though I was having an out of body experience. Was he so confident one brand had taught me a lesson? Better question was, had it? I still wanted to leave, I still wanted to go home; that at least hadn't changed but as far as plans went, I had nothing. Every turn I made, he was several steps ahead. Was he that much smarter than me? Or maybe I had just been too lonely to notice the warning signs. I limped my way into his room and found a blue paisley patterned dress. He seemed to have an unquenchable thirst for rebelling against his family's norms, I almost admired him for it. He even left a sports bra and undies, something he hadn't given me before and I wondered what had changed. Was he trying to make me feel human again? Was this all part of his elaborate ploy to get me to fall for him?

Once I was dressed, I gingerly made my way downstairs. I held onto the railing tightly, grateful for the drugs he had given me. He was already dressed and had just put on a fresh pot of coffee.