Chapter 9
Freedom
She could feel it – Thomas' even breathing against the back of her neck. It sent shivers down her spine, and the proximity of his body was enough to make her hair stand on end. He had fallen asleep, that much she could tell, and he had been true to his promise of not chaining her to the bed that night. Would this be his behaviour from then onwards? Or was it a one night thing? With Thomas there was no way to know for sure...
She supposed that his "vote of confidence" in her was a consequence of her own unwillingness to fight him anymore, but she was fairly sure that it also had to do with the ferocious blizzard raging outside. The storm was so terrible that no sensible human being would even think about venturing into the street. But then again, she wasn't a sensible human being.
Not anymore…
What she had endured was monstrous, terrible, inhuman… and it had changed her. Her life had been destroyed, violated and bruised by the man who currently lay next to her and who would always look like a monster to her. When she was a child, C.C. had always feared the dark – back then, her naïve, young mind had envisaged that bloodthirsty creatures hid in it; creatures with long fangs and sharp claws that were waiting to pounce on her…
She scoffed – the worst monsters, she now knew, were human.
The producer carefully edged away from Thomas, not being able to stand his infernal breathing against her nape for one more second. Now that the violence was over and she had been left alone with her thoughts, the feeling of emptiness was seeping into her soul. There was a lot more to survival than just the persistence of the flesh, and although her body was relatively unscathed, she felt a hollowness inside of her chest that made breathing a herculean task.
Ever since the first time he had touched her, C.C. felt like she was a distortion of herself – a shadow of the woman she once had been. The beatings, the starvation, the loneliness… all that she had been able to bear. But this… this was another story entirely.
Whenever she had found herself being pinned down to the mattress while the monster moved on top of her, she'd felt like she was dying over and over again. He was killing her without murdering her, the torture extending for longer, and becoming even more painful… just how he liked it. He was chipping away at her very soul, and she had finally reached her breaking point.
C.C. had always prided herself in being a strong, almost unbeatable woman, but she had finally been defeated. She couldn't fight it anymore… she couldn't stay there anymore.
She'd rather die than face another day inside that miserable hole.
She glanced at the window when a particularly strong gale lashed against it, and an idea suddenly crept into her tired mind. Tentatively, she sat up on the bed. She glanced at her sleeping captor – good… she hadn't awoken him. The bed was tall, so she allowed her feet to dangle in the air before slipping them inside her shoes, which she had neatly lined up beneath the bed. If he did get up right then, she'd only say she was going to the en-suite bathroom. With the room's door locked, she doubted that he'd ask many questions.
C.C. knew this was her only shot, and honestly, she'd rather die than spend another day in her very own version of Hell. She couldn't stand the beatings, the starvation, the… she shuddered. It was hard to even think about it.
Knowing that she was running against time, the blonde grabbed the fluffiest robe she could find, put on her shoes and moved to the window. The room was extremely big, so she trusted that the gushes of wind would reach him when she had already climbed out of the window. There was an awning beneath it; her plan was to jump onto it and then to the front lawn. There was a considerable amount of snow covering the lawn, so that would surely soften her fall.
Taking a shuddering breath so as to try and calm her racing heart, the producer opened the window…
And jumped.
She was soon rolling down the awning and falling to the front lawn. Although the snow had softened the blow, it had been a hard fall nevertheless, and when C.C. stood up she realised her wrist was sprained.
No matter… she needed to get to a hospital anyway.
She stood up and quickly checked herself for any other injuries, but she appeared to be (physically) fine. That was until the bitter cold hit her square in the chest, wicking the heat away from her frail body. The freezing gales were blowing right through her robe and pyjama top with absurd ease, and the snow had drenched both her shoes and pyjama pants.
C.C. glanced around at her surroundings; she had never been to Thomas' front lawn before. It was small and encircled by a rickety, old fence that C.C. felt could collapse if one so much as looked at it the wrong way. Although buried by a mantle of white, crisp snow, C.C. could see patches of the lawn, and it was just as unkempt as the fence or the few, naked shrubs.
Overall, however, his house looked so painfully normal that C.C. felt a shiver running down her spine – one that hadn't been caused by the numbing cold that surrounded her. No one would ever suspect that she had been held inside a cellar just a few feet underground…
Just like Thomas had said, no one would have ever heard her anguishing screams.
But it was over… well, almost over. Turning around towards the open gates, C.C. took a deep, shuddering breath and she ran past them and into the street.
Part of her felt like she had ventured into the dark mouth of some terrifying creature, for the night was pitch black, but she knew it was safer than the house she had inhabited for months. The stars and the moon were hidden behind an impenetrable wall of black clouds, a proof of the darkness' stranglehold of the night. But she wasn't afraid… actually, as she blended into the shadows, she began to feel safe.
The blocks passed by her in a blur. C.C. could only focus on wrapping her arms around her upper body as she searched for a familiar street or sign that gave her a clue of where she was. From what she could see she was roaming a typical urban area of New York, but it was ghostly, deserted, eerily silent…
Her fierce steps echoed into the night, and C.C. wondered if that noise alone would be enough to guide Thomas to her. It was a terrifying thought, but it encouraged C.C. to keep running, no matter how tired, afraid or in pain she was. She needed to get away at any cost; she'd rather die than go back to that cellar. The wind could hiss, growl or roar all it wanted, but she didn't care – she only cared about keeping moving, her eyes glued to the road ahead of her.
In a sense, the brutality of the storm was soothing, for it meant that Thomas would have more trouble finding her if he was already after her. His eyes would only be able to see a few meters ahead, and she had already covered a more than considerable distance. She wasn't to stop under any circumstance, though.
Her salvation, she knew, was running for dear life.
After what had felt like an eternity and an innumerable amount of twists and turns around different corners, C.C. let out an excited yelp – she finally knew where she was. The small, green sign that read "14th St." rose high in the night sky, held in place by a black metal pole. It almost felt like it was glowing – like it was some kind of saving light for her to see. Right by its side there was another sign that read "9thAv.".
"Good Lord," C.C. muttered, brushing her fingers against the black metal pole.
Part of her felt like weeping; like letting herself fall down to the ground, defeated and broken. Lennox Hill – the hospital she was aiming to get to – was more than sixty blocks away! It was on 63rd Street and 3rd Avenue, at the other side of Central Park! The walk would take her over an hour! Probably more due to the storm…
But she didn't care – well, she forced herself to not care, even if deep inside her she felt like she was too tired, and cold, and desperate to not care.
She had to keep moving. If she went back, Thomas would probably kill her for leaving in the first place. And she was too weak to fight him, but there was a chance that if she kept moving, she could fight this.
She had to. She had to get somewhere safe.
"Now, that's the fighting spirit from the she-devil I know," said Niles' voice.
She groaned to herself, and thought in her head because she was too cold to talk, "I'm a little busy right now. Is there a chance we could do this later?"
"There won't be a later if you don't keep moving," the voice replied. "Come on, Babcock. One foot in front of the other. Just like Doctor Frankenstein taught you."
"Shut up!" she thought louder, if it were possible, wrapping her arms around herself as much as she could and starting to push her way through the snow. "Happy now?"
"Happier. I'll be completely happy when you've made it to the hospital," the voice said firmly. "Now keep moving, and just pay attention to my voice. Think about how you'll get to hear the real me soon."
The real Niles...
What would he say once he saw her? How would she explain to him what had happened? And what about her family or the Sheffields? Had they been looking for her? Had they worried about her being missing? Or had they forgotten about her?
And if they were looking for her, had they lost hope of her reappearing? Were they looking for a body?
"They will find a body if you don't move faster, Babcock," Niles' voice interrupted her troubled musings. "I know multitasking is too much of a strain for people your age, so focus your energies in getting to the hospital!"
"You are insufferable," the producer replied in her head, forcing herself to fasten the pace.
"And you love me anyway," his voice replied.
C.C. was sure that the real Niles would be giving her one of his smug smirks right then.
But the voice was right. She did love him.
"That's my Babcock! Now, come on, one foot in front of the other."
And so she began her long way to salvation. There wasn't a soul in the streets, and it didn't surprise her either. The cold was terrible – freezing gushes of wind were cutting her skin, and she knew it wouldn't be long until hypothermia had begun to ravage her body (that was, if it hadn't started doing so already). She was trembling and her extremities were beginning to feel numb… like they were asleep.
Well… she herself was feeling slightly sleepy, and the lethargy only worsened with each step she gave.
"Keep going, Babcock, come on!" Niles' voice encouraged, and for the longest of times that was the only phrase it kept repeating.
As the blocks went past, C.C. could feel her body shutting down – her movements had become slow and laboured, she was nauseous, dizzy, her breathing was slow and shallow and her heart was galloping against her chest; but, paradoxically enough, she felt awfully hot.
Although her mind was sluggish and there was a big part of it that was screaming at her to get rid of the robe, she forced herself to keep it on – the temperature was freezing, it was impossible for her to be feeling hot! She supposed it was a consequence of hypothermia…
"Keep going, Babcock, don't you chicken out now!" the voice encouraged, and C.C. could only grit her teeth and keep pushing through the snow.
She didn't really know for how long she walked practically on autopilot, but just when she was about to give up, her eyes caught a glimpse of a hospital door.
Lennox Hill's entrance door!
It was two blocks away, at most. She was so very close...
But she had no more strength... she couldn't do this!
"You can't give up now!" the voice was yelling over the top of the swirling wind, and her head was getting all fuzzy and she wanted to listen but there was nothing stopping her from sleeping either...
"You know he loves you too!" the voice finally cried out in desperation. "Do you want to come so close to being with him at last, only to fall at the final hurdle? You can see the door from here, Babcock! That safety we talked about back the other side of the park? It's right there! Go to it, and don't stop thinking about him!"
And she did. The voice was right. She couldn't stop when she was so close, and the thought of them finding her body in the snow, so near to freedom and safety and love and yet so far at the same time, made her want to cry. So she continued, shuffling her feet as much as she could through the snow, each and every step in her head punctuated by the voice, reminding her of all the good things about Niles, and all the fun times they'd had together.
"Remember the Broadway Guild Awards? How you both went back to the mansion, lit a fire, and you danced? You never had such a fun evening at an event like that."
The hospital was a block away.
"Remember the wedding you went as his date for? The pre-reception drinks at the bar. And you could hear people talking, about what an agreeable pair you made. But neither of you really paid attention to it; even if you didn't say so out loud, you agreed."
The hospital was half a block and closing.
"Remember the kiss in the den," the voice said, more soft and quiet than it was before. "How warm and safe you felt in his arms. And how loved and desired you were."
The hospital doors were almost upon her.
"You can have that all back again."
The voice faded away as the hospital doors opened and she fell through them.
Niles was shaking. Unable to move, breathe or even think clearly.
They had found her. Or better said, she had appeared at the hospital in the middle of a blizzard!
Good Lord...
When the notion that C.C. was alive finally dawned on him, Niles sprang into action – she was alive! Alive... but clearly injured. He needed to get to Lennox Hill now! The sooner he arrived, the sooner he'd know what had happened to Babcock.
The doctor hadn't wanted to speak on the phone, which gave him the clue that she was clearly in a bad shape. Niles took in a shuddering breath and scrambled for his discarded suit – he hadn't even folded it when he took it off before going to bed... he rarely did that since C.C. had disappeared.
He knew he had no time to think about what could have possibly happened to her just then – there would be time for that once he was in the hospital, but now he only needed to get to the hospital. So, after changing back into his suit and grabbing his wallet, Niles practically dashed to the family car, not caring to put Mr Sheffield abreast of C.C. having reappeared.
The distance between the mansion and the hospital was a short one, but seeing as the storm was so bad, Niles had figured it would be insane to walk there. He shuddered when the notion that C.C. had actually done so surfaced inside his mind.
Soon enough, he had parked the car and was running inside the hospital. There was a tired-looking doctor at the front desk, and after crossing a look both of them knew who the other was.
"Are you Niles Brightmore?" the doctor asked.
"Yes, yes I am," he replied, showing her his ID.
"Good. Follow me. We need to check if this woman is who she claims to be," the doctor explained, guiding him to the ICU. "She says her name is C.C. Babcock, but she has no identification whatsoever. She arrived hypothermic, malnourished and severely bruised," Dr Langston came to a halt before a door and turned to face a pale Niles. "We also believe she was sexually assaulted, so try not to touch her just yet – we still have to run some tests, alright?"
Niles felt like being sick. He understood the words that were being said to him, but he refused to believe that that bastard had done all that to her. God… it couldn't really be true!
"Alright," he barely whispered.
And so, the doctor opened the door, and finally his eyes found her shivering form.
"That's her," he said it automatically. No hesitation in his tone whatsoever, despite the fact that the woman curled up on the bed in front of him was almost skeletal. But he'd know that blonde hair, even if it was dirty and unkempt, and that face – the strong jaw, long nose, and high cheekbones, even if the latter were sunken in.
She was there. She was alive. Even though she was clearly affected by what had happened, she was there with him still. His prayers had been answered, and he thanked whomever was listening because they'd given her back to him.
"Are you sure?" the doctor glanced at the man just by her shoulder, lightly tapping a pen against a chart she held in her hands.
Niles nodded enthusiastically, "Absolutely. I'd know her anywhere."
She was awake, but only just. And as the door creaked open, she shrank away from the source of the noise. Probably in terms of her own head she was doing so quickly, but she was so exhausted and ill from the weather and from her mistreatment, that she moved weakly.
"Well, we'd better go over, then," the doctor said quietly. "She is very worn out from her ordeal, but seeing a familiar face might be good for her right now."
They approached her bed slowly, so as not to cause her to panic. Niles remained slightly behind the doctor, not knowing how she'd react to the sight of him.
He could only hope her reaction would be a good one. He wasn't expecting much because if she'd suffered abuse at the hands of whomever had been keeping her, then he doubted she'd be ready for too much attention of any kind. But just hearing her sound...maybe relieved at seeing him, or at least anything other than disgusted or angry, would be nice.
"Miss Babcock?" Dr Langston said softly, not daring to touch the woman. "Miss Babcock, are you awake?"
The woman whimpered, trying to move but everything inside her hurting when she did so. Her mind was still so confused... she had no idea where she was, but at least she felt she was safe.
At least that's what she wanted to believe.
The drugs that they had administered had already taken their toll on her, and although she was feeling warmer and warmer by the second, she was also lost in a foggy and confusing haze. Her eyes were so very tired, therefore they could only distinguish two blurry shadows standing before her – one belonging to a woman and the other to a man.
"Miss Babcock?" Dr Langston tried again, getting closer to the woman. "Do you hear me? Nod if you do."
It took her some moments, but she eventually nodded, and her doctor smiled down at her.
"Very good, Miss Babcock," Dr Langston said, gently moving closer to her patient and pressing the button at the side of her bed so the head of the bed would rise a bit. Clearly the woman was in no shape to be sitting up right then. "Someone came to see you. Would you like to see him?"
And for some reason, the mention of someone having come to see her – more specifically, a man having come to see her – sent C.C. into panic. The only thing she could think about was that he had found her – Thomas had found her.
"NO... please... don't let him take me!" she wailed, trying to scramble to a sitting position.
Her desperation was so terrible it was preventing her from realising who had really come to see her.
"Miss Babcock, relax!" Dr Langston shushed her, but the woman had already curled up in a ball and was rocking back and forth. "Miss Babcock, Ni-"
"Don't let him take me... Don't let Thomas take me back... I don't wanna go back to the cellar... please!" she whimpered, using her hands to cover her face leaving all the bruises and cuts in plain sight.
Niles' eyes widened at the sight, a sharp pain stabbing him straight through the chest and stomach. She'd been held, abused, tortured...it had been going on for so long now, it had done all of this to her and it was making him feel sick. Her mentioning going back to "the cellar" made him feel even sicker. His fists were clenching before he knew it, and as he got angry thinking about this captor, a name registered.
She'd said "Thomas". It was him. It had been him, all along. He'd hidden her from the police somehow, and no doubt she'd paid the price for such a close call. He didn't want to think about how, though.
All he wanted to do was get her to realise that the kidnapper hadn't come for her. He was never coming to get her again.
"You're not going back to any cellar," Dr Langston's voice was calm, despite the disturbing pleas coming from her patient. "I promise you're not."
"I don't believe you!" C.C. cried out, burying herself deeper in her own arms so that her face could no longer be seen. "He's found me and he's going to take me back and he'll put me in the cellar again, and I don't wanna go back!"
Her screaming was becoming anguishing for the butler. He'd never seen her in such distress. He'd never seen such trauma in another human being in general! She was hurting inside and out, and he longed to reach out and protect her, but knew that his touch would only make things worse. She wouldn't know it wasn't her kidnapper, coming to take her away again. She could fight him, and they could both get hurt.
Well, he knew one way of reaching out that he knew would separate him from the vile scum that had taken her.
"Miss Babcock, it's Niles!" he shouted.
Oh, God, please, let her recognise his voice...!
Silence.
Silence for a very long time.
Niles could feel his heart leaping into his mouth as the woman slowly lifted her head from her arms so she could look at him. Part of him couldn't help but want to weep when he realised just how fearfully she moved – it was as though she was afraid of what she'd find.
She didn't look directly into his eyes at first. Instead, she stared at his feet.
"N-Niles?" she stuttered, wringing her hands in apprehension. He noticed she was frowning, too. "Are you... are you really here?"
The question took the butler by surprise. What did she mean by that? Was she surprised that he had come to see her? Or did she mean that she couldn't believe that he was really there, in that room – that he was a real person? He moved a bit closer, but not too much so she wouldn't feel invaded.
"Yes... yes it's me, Miss Babcock, I am here," he said softly, and for the first time in eight months their eyes connected.
He had to suppress a sob when he got a glimpse of her baby blues. The spark of life he remembered was no longer there – it had been crushed, broken, stolen...
Instead he could only see pain and fear. A fear so deeply rooted to her very soul that Niles couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever be able to not feel afraid. Those were the eyes of a woman who had been through Hell, and he'd be damned if he allowed the son of a bitch who had done this get away.
They held their gaze for an endless instant. Neither could take their eyes off the other, and for completely different reasons. C.C. finally felt safe, and Niles couldn't believe what that lowlife had done to his beautiful Babcock. He had broken her from the inside out, and if it were up to him, he'd return the favour by beating him within an inch of his life – the only reason he'd leave him alive was so that he could be trialled.
C.C.'s eyes welled up with tears and she edged a bit closer to Niles. Not too much, but definitely a bit closer than she had been before.
"It's you..." she whispered, "It's really you..."
She reached out and used her good hand to carefully trace the outline of his features, as though trying to convince herself that he was real. That this was not just a dream. Niles longed to cover her hand with his own – to grasp it and never let it go. But he knew better, so he only held her gaze and kept smiling at her.
"It's me, Miss Babcock, it's me..." he reassured.
But as soon as he spoke, the woman pulled away. She couldn't help it... it had become a habit.
Niles tried to not show just how much that hurt – not because she had pulled away per se, but because of the reason behind her doing so in the first place. She had been hurt, and he had no idea how to make it better.
The producer, meanwhile, was suddenly being overcome by a wave of emotions – joy for seeing Niles again; fear of Thomas coming back; sorrow due to what had happened...
It was too much, that was certain, so she did the only things that felt natural: she curled up in a ball against the pillows.
Dr Langston pursed her lips, realising that her patient needed some space. "Why don't we go and call the police, Mr Brightmore? I am sure we have to stop whoever did this before they get away."
Niles heaved a pained sigh and nodded.
"I quite agree, Dr Langston," the butler said and after glancing one last time at C.C. (who was being carefully tucked in by a nurse) he walked out of her room and into the waiting area outside.
AN: Well, there you have it :) She is back! But don't worry, we still have quite a way to go.
We appreciate your reviews and thank you for reading our story!
H&L