Chapter Summary: There is a murder as Annalise discovers that she is truly alone with a monster. But there may still be a savior in the dark night ...
Warning: Violence and adult situation ahead
A/N - I stuck a warning on here but I think it is not anything you would not see on a primetime drama on after10 pm
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dark. It was dark. That must mean it was night.
Annalise felt something warm and soft on her cheek, a voice murmuring to her and she smiled. She could hear a heartbeat beneath her ear and snuggled closer to it, seeking the comfort it gave. She had been having the most horrible nightmare and her father must have come in to find out what was wrong. Annalise reached out her arms, placing them around her father's neck, sighing happily. She only had to open her eyes and everything would be right again.
"I knew it was me that you loved," a voice chuckled in her ear.
Fighting to open eyelids still heavy from the effects of the chloroform, Annalise struggled to focus her blurred vision. Slowly the face smiling at her came into view and she let out a scream, trying to take her arms back from the hands that held on so tightly.
"Surely there is no need for such behavior between lovers," he said with a not entirely pleasant smile on his face.
"Let me go," Annalise said as she put up a vain struggle, still weak and disoriented from the drug.
He reached out to grab her chin, holding on tightly as she tried to wriggle away from his touch. "Look around, my dear, where would you go?" He turned Annalise around to look into the darkness that enveloped them. "Where would you go?" he asked again.
Annalise tried to see what was in front of her face. She found if she concentrated she could see the outlines of what appeared to be trees in every direction she looked, save one; she thought she saw the outline of a house behind them.
"The woods are full of dangerous animals," he told her. "You would not get very far before they would tear you to pieces."
"Better those animals ..." Annalise began as she continued to squirm in his grasp, the fog in her mind beginning to lift. She felt herself being turned around.
"Do not make the mistake of speaking in such a manner to me!" he growled.
"You need to ..." Annalise turned her head as his hand raised. "No!" she screamed.
What he may or may not have done was interrupted by the sound of boots crunching on the ground. A man came into sight from behind the house. Annalise looked to him and saw the coach driver.
"Please," she begged, a sob in her voice, "help me."
The coach driver touched his hat in her direction. "Sorry, mam'selle."
"Please ..." Annalise tried again, her mind knowing it was to no avail but her heart refusing to give up the hope this man represented. "Oh, God ... please!" She whispered her voice barely audible, hope beginning to die, as the driver ignored her pleas.
The driver turned to the man holding onto the sobbing Annalise. "The coach is hidden away and the horses are free, save the one I am taking." The driver did not approve of what was happening but the money he had been promised was good. He held out his hand. "I'll take my payment now."
"You have done well," he told the driver, "and have earned your payment." He reached into his jacket pocket for the payment. Before either the driver or Annalise could react, he pulled out a small pistol and shot the driver in the middle of his head, the man falling at Annalise's feet. She let out an ear-piercing scream. "Do not waste your breath on such as that. He is not worth the effort." He kicked the body out of the way. "What is one more body to me?" He looked at the terrified girl he gripped so tightly about her waist, his lips curling. "I have already killed your brother."
"That's a lie!" Annalise said as she tried to breathe through her sobs.
"Perhaps," he acknowledged. "Perhaps not. It really does not matter." He shrugged. "Three or four bodies, they are all still dead."
"How could you do that to him? To me?"
The man in front of her deemed the questions unworthy of answer.
Annalise closed her eyes, drawing a breath, trying to still her sobs. She had to make him listen to her! She opened her eyes again. "I ... I ..." she drew another breath, trying to steady her nerves. "You ... I need ..."
He pulled her closer so that their faces were only a breath apart, rubbing his cheek against hers. "What about what I need?" he asked, a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest.
"I hate you," Annalise told him as her frustration at his refusal to hear her grew.
"That shall change," he told her. He wrapped his other arm about her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, lifting her up, her back to him so that she could not fight back or attempt escape. "Allow me to show you your new home," he said as he leaned into her neck.
Annalise found she could do nothing but sob as he carried her into the darkened house. The thought that one man was already dead because of her and that her brother might be the first was almost more than she could bear. She found she could think of nothing else as he carried her through the open front door, kicking it closed behind him. She could not even feel anything other than the all-encompassing fear as he carried her up the stairs, through a doorway and into a bedroom lit by softly glowing candles. Annalise felt her feet touch the floor, his arms coming away from her waist. She quickly stumbled to the four-poster bed in the middle of the room, clinging to one of the posts for support.
"One would think you loved that piece of wood more than you do me," he said.
"I think I do," Annalise shot back, choking down new sobs as she began to realize he was not hearing anything she said.
He picked something white up off a dresser, flinging it at Annalise. It fell at her feet as she stared at him. "You will take your clothes off and put that on."
"No." Annalise felt a shiver run up her spine.
"I am giving you ten minutes to do as I ask."
Annalise shook her head, her stomach knotting in confusion and terror.
He had crossed the remaining space between them, before Annalise could move, grabbing the silk of her bodice in one hand, pulling her towards him. "You will do as I tell you or I shall strip you myself." His eyes glowed dangerously. "And I do not think you want the consequences of that action." He let her go and Annalise stumbled backwards, banging against the side of the bed, falling to the floor. He ignored her and looked at his watch. "You now have nine minutes," he said as he turned on his heel, leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
Annalise looked after him, watching as the door closed, hearing the click of a lock. She stared at the door for a moment before placing shaking hands over her face, sobbing into them. Her whole body shook from the sobs, from the fear, from the knowledge that she was alone and no one knew where she was.
"Eight minutes," a voice called to her.
Her stomach churned as Annalise raised her head, waves of nausea washing over her. She looked at the pile of white on the floor next to her, lifting it up, discovering it was simple cotton nightdress. Annalise began to undress, shaking fingers finding the simple task of undoing buttons a monumental undertaking. She managed to undo the last button of her blouse, opening it, when a summer breeze blew through the room, chilling her to the bone.
"Seven minutes."
Annalise drew her blouse closed, hugging her arms tightly around herself, rocking back and forth, the tears streaming down her face. "I can't do this," she kept repeating, "I can't do this." The lock clicked and the door opened. Annalise scooted backwards until she found herself backed against an unmovable object. "Stay away from me!" she managed to choke out, her breath rapid and shallow around her tears.
"I just wanted to let you know that you only have six minutes." He smiled at her. "I do not see a good deal of progress and you know what that means." He closed the door, clicking the lock.
"Oh, God," Annalise said softly as she struggled with her tears. "What am I going to do?"
"Five minutes, cherie," his voice called.
At the sound of that voice, a strange, calm numbness began to creep over Annalise. She sniffled once as her tears slowed to a stop. She could no longer feel her legs shaking, the nausea, her cold, trembling fingers. She could no longer even feel the head attached to her neck. She slipped out of her blouse, reaching around to untie the ribbons of her corset, slipping it over her head easily. Annalise reached down to the puddle of white cotton at her feet, slipping the nightdress over her head. She held it at her waist as she undid the belt to her skirt and slid it down to the floor, her slip, stockings and shoes following. At the sound of the lock clicking again, Annalise jumped, feeling beginning to return, and fled to the other side of the bed, placing it between her and the door.
"I know you still have two minutes, my dear, but I just cannot wait that long," he said as he entered the room, a wine glass in his hand. He smiled in Annalise's direction, taking note of the pile of clothes on the floor. "Now that was not so hard, was it?"
"Why?" Annalise whispered in a small voice.
"Because I will not have you trying to leave here," he said, the smile disappearing from his face. "It would not do for the daughter of a Vicomte to be found wandering the roads dressed only a night shift."
"Why are you doing this to me?" Annalise tried again.
He advanced towards the bed causing Annalise to retreat further towards the wall behind her. "Think of the scandal it would bring. So, you see, you have no where to go."
"But I do not want to go anywhere!" Annalise exclaimed, seeing the distant look in his eyes, knowing he was not hearing anything she said. Yet Annalise knew she had to try. "You need to listen to me!", she pleaded.
"I have heard enough sobbing from you and it gives me a headache." He extended the wine glass. "I would like you to drink this." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "And do not think to try anything like you did before. I should hate to have to hurt you further."
Annalise finally noticed the throbbing in her face, her hand going to her cheek, remembering the force of his blow and knowing that she would bear the mark of his anger. "I hate you," she whispered in a hurt voice, as the tears threatened to begin again.
"So you have said but it matters little to me what you think," he said. "Now, be a good girl and drink the wine for me."
"No," Annalise told him. "Not until you listen to me!"
He took two steps forward and Annalise backed further away. "Have we not played this game before?" he sighed. "Drink the wine. It will help to calm your nerves."
Her frayed, on-edge nerves were the only things keeping Annalise from complete collapse. "No," she told him again, backing further away as he continued to approach, her anger getting the better of her. "I am not going to listen to a word you have to say until you listen to me. Please! You have to hear me!"
He sighed again, placing the wine glass on top of a small side table. "My dear, you really do not understand, do you?" he asked quietly.
It was there, a brief flash of something, a split second of darkness revealed, an instant captured and released in the space of a heartbeat. Annalise's mind - senses heightened, watching for danger - saw it and recognized it for what it was. She reacted on pure instinct. As his lips curled into a snarl and he leaped across the bed towards her, Annalise tried to run around the end of the bed and towards the door. A primal urge she could not have named compelled her instinct for self-preservation to send her towards the one point beyond which lay a chance at freedom.
She would never make it.
Something grabbed her long, dark hair, pulling her backwards, twisting her and throwing her onto the floor. Annalise's wrists and knees absorbed the impact of the fall, their bones and muscles telegraphing their pain to her already overloaded mind. She let out a scream, reaching behind herself, as her hair was pulled again, lifting her off the floor, sending fingers of fire racing through her scalp. Something pushed her hard and Annalise connected with the wall in front of her, sending new pain through her face and down through her shoulders. She began to slide towards the floor when hands grabbed her roughly, turning her around and pinning her wrists above her head. She screamed again.
"Go ahead and scream!" a voice hissed at her, full of contempt. "Who is going to hear you?"
"Listen to me!" Annalise shouted as the room spun before her.
"I am the only who is," he whispered as he leaned in to kiss her with such force that Annalise felt her teeth scrape against the inside of her lips.
The love that she felt for this man began to be jumbled up with the aggravation that he would not listen to what she had to say. It was making her angry and Annalise tried to focus her growing hatred on this person who was keeping her against her will. "Let me go!" she screamed as she wiggled and squirmed trying to break free of his grasp.
"You just do not understand!" the voice hissed at her again. He transferred both of her tiny wrists to one of his hands, squeezing tightly, eliciting a cry of pain. The other hand he moved down to hold her chin as he leaned in to breathe in her ear. "There is no one but me to hear your screams. I can do things to make you scream that you cannot even begin to imagine!" He lifted a knee and ran it into her pelvic bone, pinning her to the wall, preventing her from moving, eliciting another cry of pain. "You are mine to do with as I please," he snarled at her as he took the hand that held her chin and moved it down to cup her breast.
"Don't touch me!" Annalise screamed her voice beginning to grow hoarse. "Get off of me!"
His hand crept back up to her face, turning her so that she was forced to look at him. "When the time comes you will crawl to me and beg me for my love. I will be your only salvation from the pain and torment that awaits."
"I would rather die than do anything for you!" Annalise whispered through her tears, her anger and fear overwhelming and swallowing any tender emotion she had felt for this man.
"We shall see," he stated simply. "We shall see." Without warning, he slammed Annalise's head into the wall, stunning her. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small length of rope with which he used to bind her wrists together. "You really must make me stop being so mean to you," he told her. "It does neither of us any good." He dragged Annalise over to the table where he had left the wine glass, holding it to her lips, forcing the drug-laced liquid down her throat, not caring that she choked and sputtered as some of the wine flowed down her airway. Once the wine was gone, he returned the glass to the small table and dragged Annalise towards a closet. He opened the door and pushed her inside. "I have matters to which I must attend and I really cannot have you wandering about."
As her vision stopped spinning, Annalise saw him smile at her, the closet door closing. "No!" she screamed and lunged for the door, only to slam an already sore shoulder into the now closed door. The utter darkness enveloped her as she pounded her fists on the thick wood. "Listen to me!" she screamed. When there was no response, Annalise grew frantic. "Let me out!" she yelled over and over again. Her screams grew less as her throat grew sore, the drug in the wine began to take effect.
Annalise slumped against the smooth wooden door. "Listen to me," she cried, her voice trailing off as her body surrendered to the laudanum. "Oh God, please just listen."
And out in the dark of the night there was a young man who longed to be the one to bring her home. He had been riding hard on the heels of the coach carrying the woman he loved, urging his horse onwards, ever faster as he tried to gain ground. He had not had a plan, his mind too terrified for her to think beyond keeping her in his sight, but it had all come to naught when a bullet went flying past his head. He had seen the gun pointed at him and twisted at the last moment, the bullet only grazing the side of his scalp instead of burying itself there. He had been forced to pull up as the world momentarily blacked out before him. That was all it had taken. Now she was gone and he did not even know where to look for her.
He sat at a crossroads, not caring who along this deserted stretch of road might see him. He had been riding all evening and far into the night, familiar with this stretch of road, knowing there was no other path that a coach could take. Now, though, he sat at this crossroad, a very metaphor for the decision he needed to make. He closed his eyes, trying to think of her, trying to listen for her. He knew it was foolish but could think of no other thing to do. She needed to tell him where she was. Surely she could do that. Surely the merciful God he believed in would not allow her to be taken from him forever.
Suddenly he remembered bits of conversation and opened his eyes. He moved his horse towards the sign posted at the edge of the crossroad and knew. He knew where to go. He knew that God had heard his prayers and that she had managed to reach out to him from wherever she was being held. He turned his horse's head to the left and went galloping down the road.
He only prayed he would be in time.