Stranded Ch. 17

"I head out for another delivery tomorrow," Sam announced in between bites of his chicken parmesan.

"You will be staying with Uncle Dale until my return." He glanced up, gauging my reaction.

"If that is what you think is best." I jumped when his fist hit the table like a sledgehammer.

"Would you look at me when I speak to you?" I set my fork down and gave him my full attention, folding my hands beneath my chin.

"My apologies husband, was there a different response you wanted?" He rubbed his face and sighed; eyes tired.

"I want you to stop being so...so automated." he replied through clenched teeth.

"Am I not being a good wife?" Maybe there was really no way to please him.

"Of course you are. But if I had known....if you had only been honest about your father...I would not have taken you there had I known this would be the result."

"So now it's my fault!?"

"No, that's not what I meant. Open, honest communication would have been helpful." I gave him my best blank stare while the rage continued to build within me. Open communication? Honesty? Was he serious? I wanted to snap at him, I wanted to tell him exactly where he could stick his sentiments. But I did not. Instead I gave him my warmest smile.

"I made some dessert; I could dish you some." I offered, changing the subject. I had kept myself busy over the last few weeks since we made it back from my father's, focused my energy on anything that kept me from having to think too much about my new reality. I cleaned every corner of the house, top to bottom. I fell into a daily routine which consisted of: waking up, shower, dress, make breakfast, do dishes, clean, make lunch, do more dishes, laundry, dinner and dessert, clean the remaining dishes, nightgown, then bed. There were a few tasks to break the monotony, I found a couple old cook books shoved into the back cupboard above the fridge and had started trying new recipes, starting with the pages that were worn down the most. I had to assume they were favored and therefore cooked the most. I stopped cursing, started using more manners. I did my best to anticipate his needs and even satisfied his sexual appetites on the few occasions he was able to stomach touching me. Arioch had not made an appearance since our return, I did not complain, did not argue.

"I don't want your damn cupcakes." he growled.

"Then what do you want, husband?" I was doing exactly what he wanted. I was saying all the right things, wearing the right clothes, why was it not enough? Maybe my father was right after all, maybe the problem was with me if even my own captor was getting fed up. Sam pushed away his plate, meal half eaten and sighed as he stood.

"I'm going back to the garage; we'll be heading over first thing in the morning." I waited for the screen door to slam shut before picking my fork up and returning to my meal, my tears salting the pasta. When I was finished eating, I dumped the leftovers in the pig's slop bucket just outside the back door and started the dishes. I was both pleased and hurt by his outburst. If I played by the rules, he had no reason to punish me. Maybe that was his problem. You could always break a dish or set something on fire again. I shook the thoughts away. That was the old me, new me did not want to cause any problems; new me wanted to be good. New me did not want to be tossed back into a hole in the ground. I had to find a way to make my new life work now that I finally accepted, I was not leaving it.

My stomach dropped as we slowly pulled into Dale's driveway, keeping clear of a few stray children that were playing a game of tag.

"How long will you be gone this time?" I asked softly. He had barely spoken to me since dinner.

"Little over a week." No promises of rushing home, I noticed. I tried to hide my disappointment as I hopped out and waited for him to make his way around the truck. A short chain dangled from around my neck, the weight almost a familiar comfort now.

"I don't think I have to remind you to keep your mouth shut about our little trip, do I?"

"Of course not." It was something I was desperately trying to forget. He kissed the top of my head, spreading his arm across my shoulders, the chain wrapped around one hand as he walked us towards the house. It was more contact then what he had made in the last week combined and I resisted the urge to lean into it.

"You know, the last time I was here didn't end so well for me." The scar on my head itched in reminder.

"Stay in sight of Dale or one of the Wives at all times and you will be safe." I scoffed, earning me a raised eyebrow. That worked well the last time. That trip had only been a few days, how was I going to survive over a week? Maybe he did not care if he returned and found me dead. Maybe he was even hoping for it, save him the trouble.

"Little brother!" Zeke ran out the front door and Sam released me just in time to catch his flying hug.

"It's always good to see you Zeke." Sam replied, pounding his brother on the back before pulling away. Without missing a beat Zeke threw his arms around me next, squeezing me until I could not breathe.

"I missed you as well, little sister." With my arms pinned to the side I was unable to hug him in return, so I gasped that I missed him as well and prayed he released me before I passed out. I was a little lightheaded when he finally did, and Sam pulled me close so that I could lean against him.

"You're late." Dale grumbled as he made his way towards us. I could tell by his disheveled hair and scruff he had barely been awake long himself.

"I'll make up the time once I get on the road." Dale tossed a pair of keys at him, taking the other end of my chain from Sam, nodding to the space beside him. Sam gave me a small peck on the forehead, handing a different key to Dale before slapping my ass to get me moving. I watched as Sam walked back to his truck, resisting the urge to beg him not to leave. I dug my nails into my palms to keep my thoughts focused.

"Be good, wife." I watched Sam pull away with a heavy heart, feeling abandoned. Dale turned to me, handing me the other end of my chain before reaching up and unlocking it.

"We both know you're safer with me than out there with my boys, I don't need to hold onto this. Now, follow me." Dale waved his hand and I fell into step behind him. Zeke fell into step behind me until Dale shooed him off to do chores. Our first stop was the bathroom, where he ordered me to sit while he began pulling things out from the cupboard beneath the sink.

"Tell me KitKat, what duties do you perform for your husband?"

"Whatever he asks of me." I replied carefully, I did not want any of my answers getting Sam into trouble.

"Do you shave him?" I shook my head as I looked over the things he had set on the counter. A can of shaving cream, some aftershave, and a razor. I half expected to see a straight razor with how old fashioned they were but was grateful when I didn't. Temptation like that was the last thing I needed, not that killing him would do me any good. Might make you feel better.

"Well, this will be a good lesson then." He turned the hot water on and pulled the plug on the sink, letting it fill with water. He handed me the can and turned so that we faced one another.

"Go on, lather me up. You're wasting daylight." I pulled off the lid, shaking it before squirting some into my palm. It was soft and fluffy as I dipped my hand in and began spreading it over the length of his jaw, the tiny hairs tickling my hand. It was not that he was only a few inches from my face, or that he was slightly taller than me, it was the intensity of his gaze that had my hands shaking. He smiled when he noticed, he always enjoyed watching me squirm.

"Take a deep breath, this is a clean shirt and I do not want to change again because you made a mess." I took a deep breath and continued, coating the bottom of his chin, covering every inch of scruff I could see. I rinsed my hands and he held out the Gillette Fusion 5 razor.

"You need to use one hand to hold my skin taut while you use the other to shave against the grain. Don't go too fast, if you cut me, I will not be pleased." I nodded in understanding, no pressure, right!?

I loathed having to touch him any more than what was necessary, the likelihood Sam was ever going to require such a task from me was very low. He would never trust you that much. The first few swipes went well, I made sure to rinse the razor in between each one. It was the 5th swipe; I must have moved too slow or maybe it was because it was over the curve of his jaw. I saw the blood just seconds before I saw his hand. He slapped me hard enough that it left my head ringing and knocked me into the wall. I dropped the razor and it skittered across the floor. After I regained some of my cognitive abilities, I picked it back up, rinsing it. He was already tearing up a small piece of toilet paper by the time I turned to face him again, my cheek on fire.

"I-I-I'm sorry. I've never done this before..."

"Surely you've shaved yourself, it's not a difficult task."

"Not my face." I retorted, then closed my lips quickly, realizing my tone. But I could not help it with how condescending he was being. His eyes narrowed. I offered him the razor back, but he shook his head and turned to face me again.

"This is something you need to learn, and it's become quite clear that your husband is neglecting his duties. Though the next mistake will leave you tasting blood." he warned.

I gripped his chin tightly and started again. I only cut him twice more, and he was true to his word, I did end up tasting blood.

"You need more practice; it'll steady your hands. This will be one of your duties while you are staying in my house. Keep you useful." I ran my tongue across my lower lip where it was already starting to swell.

"If that is what you require of me." I replied softly.

"It is." He picked the little pieces of toilet paper from his face and handed me the aftershave. I splashed a little on my hands and patted his face, wincing when he hissed. Burn asshole! I was washing my hands when he spoke again.

"So, KitKat, tell me something, how did your brief moment of freedom taste, bittersweet?"

"M-my what?" Did he know? Had I somehow given it away? Sam was going to be so upset.

"Sammy's a real idiot if he truly thought word wouldn't get around. Deal or not, this family has got nothing better to do than gossip. I heard all about what happened in town, about what you did... You may have him fooled, but I have been at this a lot longer and you do not fool me, girl. You see, I knew you were gonna be nothing but trouble the moment I first laid eyes on you. And I don't believe for a second that you've been tamed." Thank God, he was referring to that trip.

"I made a poor decision, and I don't expect to earn anyone's trust any time soon, if ever. But I am not going anywhere. I...I love him." He seemed a little surprised at my confession, though I was not sure if that was the words, or if it was the conviction behind them. It was something I could hardly admit to myself, but I felt a weight lift from my shoulders having divulged it to someone.
"That does not mean you are tamed." Satisfied with my work he ordered me to put the stuff away and we made our way towards the kitchen.

Dale kissed Mary's cheek on his way in, pausing long enough to swipe his fingers through the frosting she had just whipped up. From the smell permeating the kitchen it was for the cinnamon rolls currently baking. She smacked his hand playfully with the rubber spatula, and he just smiled and made his way over to his next wife, kissing her cheek as well.

"Smells delicious as always Mary." She blushed but continued with the task before her, a small smile on her face.

"I am always happy to hear you are pleased. Will that one be staying with us today?"

"No, I am going to take her with me. Put her to work."

"Are you sure that's..." One look was all it took, and she swallowed the rest of her sentence like a bitter pill.

"Are there any preparations I can make?"

"Just be sure to pack two lunches. KitKat, table." He pointed to the spot beside his chair and I tentatively sat down, the weight of Mary's gaze heavy. Did she resent the amount of attention he was forced to give me?

"May I ask where we're going?"

"No, you may not." Dale replied with ease as he snagged a piece of bacon, barely avoiding a second swat of the spatula before sitting down in his chair and sipping his coffee.

"Is there something you would like me to help with?" Dale gave me a blank stare over the top of his paper, and I took that as a no. Breakfast passed without commotion and afterwards, I gratefully followed Dale to his truck, paper sack lunches in hand. I had a million questions buzzing in my skull, but I expressed none. I doubted he would answer them. While he locked the door and made me buckle, he did not chain me to the dashboard like Sam. For someone who did not think I was tamed, he seemed confident I was not going anywhere. We passed Sam's house and drove for what felt like forever before arriving in town. My anxiety skyrocketed; did Sam know where he was taking me? Was this another test? Would I even be coming back? I wanted to ask him where we were going anyways, against his advice. But I was also afraid of the answer. Dale didn't have the same qualms about killing me that Sam did.

He did not waste time with idle chatter, instead we drove to our destination in a heavy anticipatory silence. As we entered town, I felt as though I was looking at it more clearly. I noticed the people more, the way they were dressed, the fact I hardly saw any women, and the ones I did were wearing long skirts or dresses like my own. How had I missed that the first time? I felt dizzy as he pulled into the parking lot of a large building. The front corner had a little neon sign that read Heavenly Scents, the words sitting amongst clouds and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"May I ask where we are now?"

"Work." Why was he bringing me here? Did he not worry about the risk it posed? Or did he not see me as a risk? He had just been talking about how he did not think I was tamed, and now he was taking me somewhere public. But there was no way it was public; he would not be that foolish.

"Why am I here?" I demanded.

"I can't take an entire week off and unfortunately I can't exactly leave you at home either. With my boys missing, I need Sammy to make those runs, hence this is my only option. Now get moving or we'll be late." He climbed out and made his way to my side just as I hopped out and together, we walked through the front door. Without a chain or him holding onto me, I felt like a balloon adrift in the breeze.

Dale had 3 employees working in the store, one man keeping the store tidy, one cashier and one who was currently stocking more soaps. It was empty of customers, but the sign stated they had only just opened. While I could feel their gazes glancing my way as we walked through, I ignored them and took the opportunity to casually glance around. My eyes could not help but look for exits. They had soaps, candles, and bath bombs. They were in all shapes, sizes, colors, and scents. Some were shaped like crosses, others were shaped like doves, angels and I even spotted one bar of soap shaped like little baby Jesus. I followed him to a door in the back and into the warehouse.

A couple dozen workers were scurrying about, keeping busy with various tasks. There were high shelves and even higher ceilings. A few forklifts were zipping around lifting and moving pallets with ease. To the left there was an assembly line of people packing candles away and loading the boxes onto the pallets, some of which were being wrapped tightly with plastic wrap and loaded on to the open, waiting semi-trucks. I noticed a total of four security guards, at least that I could see, each with a taser gun hooked to their belt. I could tell by looking at his staff they were all related; from the neatly combed hair to conservative way they dressed, but not all of them were male and that surprised me the most. Besides a few side glances, everyone seemed too busy to pay much attention to me and I couldn't be happier.

"I'd feel better if I was secured to something."

"Oh, do you need motivation to stay put?" Dale inquired.

"I-I would just prefer it." If I did not have the ability to escape, maybe I would quit thinking of it as an option. Maybe my brain would stop racing with all the different ways I could get free. Maybe I could grab one of their tasers. Were there windows in the bathroom? What if I stowed myself away in one of the trucks right before it pulled away? Perhaps I could write a message for help and hide it in one of the boxes.

I knew it was pointless to try, I knew the fate that awaited me if I dared to. I knew I had nothing in the outside world waiting for me, Sam seemed to be the only person who wanted me, most days anyways and yet, the urge persisted. A small part of my brain kept re-evaluating, desperate for another way out. No matter how much I told myself it was useless...dangerous, that I needed to give up, it prevailed. Dale stared at me in bewilderment. Could he see the internal struggle on my face?

"Just when I think I got you all figured out...sadly I can't secure you to anything, too dangerous in the workplace." I was not sure whether to laugh or cry.

"Tell you what I am going to do, put you to work, idle hands are the devil's playthings."

We veered off to the right and he motioned to a young blonde sitting behind a desk covered in paperwork. She was chewing on the end of her pencil and when she looked up to see us approaching, she hurried to stand, smoothing the skirt of her dress, and greeting us with a smile.

"What can I do for you Father?"

"I want you to take KitKat here and show her around a little, get her ready and put her to work. Wherever you think she will not mess things up. I trust you to make that call." He turned to me and spoke, "I am going to assign Josiah to keep an eye on you. Should you feel any temptation he will use whatever means necessary to subdue you and bring you to me." He took the paper sacks from me and went up the stairs to the small office. I turned to the girl who stuck her hand out, grasping mine before I could protest and shook it vigorously.

"Hi KitKat, name's Heavenly, and yes, I am Heavenly as in Heavenly scents. I helped start this enterprise." I heard the words, I even understood the words, but my brain still could not wrap itself around them.

"You?" She laughed as she hooked her arm through mine and began leading me further towards the back. Her cheerfulness was almost contagious. Almost.

"It started out as a hobby really, Dale was the one who saw real potential in it. Conclave denied him funding, so we started out small. That was 4 years ago, and now look at us." She waved her arm towards the rest of the warehouse, the beaming smile never leaving her face. She was proud.

"It is quite impressive." I admitted. I followed her around as she showed me the separate areas used for candles, soaps, and the bath bombs. The workers hardly glanced up from their task as she rattled off some of the ingredients and essential oils she used for the different scents. When she was satisfied, she had given me enough of a tour, she clasped her hands together and smiled.

"I think you're ready to get started!" I could feel the edges of another panic attack and I was trying to keep myself calm. There were just so many of them, it was almost suffocating.

If I follow the rules, I am safe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. One day at a time. She turned back around just as one of the security guards approached us. He was not very tall, and there was a solemn expression on his face bordering on displeased. His soft brown hair was kept short and his eyes followed us as Heavenly nodded in his direction and led me towards the back of the warehouse, back towards the corner of candles.