Hello everyone! I wanted to apologize for the long wait, almost a year, between chapters! 2020 has definitely been a year to remember, and not always for good reasons. I hope everyone is safe and healthy this holiday season. In such a crazy time, I hope these updates bring a bit of light back into your life! Thank you so much to everyone for the reviews and kind words. I've been lucky so far that COVID has only affected my work for the next few weeks as Alberta locks down to contain cases, but that also means I have this time to give you all the chapters you've been so patiently waiting for. Thank you again for your patience and support. Happy Holidays to each and every one of my wonderful readers!
Submission and Reward
Claire refused to so much as look at Adelais.
Of course, this bothered the other blonde not a bit. She was taking the time of reprieve to lessen her headache that occasionally still throbbed behind her eyes. Marcia had returned from the washroom, clean and appearing slightly more relaxed now that she wasn't thinking about being covered in urine. Her presence distracted Claire away from Adelais, at least.
Casey disappeared into the washroom next; but she did not shower. They could hear the tap running in the sink and the brunette had re-emerged only short minutes later, face slightly pinkened from washing it. All of her oversized clothes remained bundled around her, a shield against the rest of the world.
Hoping to distract herself, Adelais started to wander around the room again, fingers gently tracing along imperfections in the walls as she paced. She examined the door pointlessly, knowing there was no chance of breaking it down or hoping it remained unlocked. A peek through the tiny gap showed her nothing new and let her move on without thought.
The lights inside the small room had been mostly turned off, leaving only the softer lights on the far wall on while the longer, brighter lights along the side walls were dark. Outside of the room, however, was just as bright as before.
Her dried hair fell into her face when she bent, prompting her to stand up and brush it back from her face and pull it over her shoulder again. A wet spot was left behind from the water leeching out of her hair and into the fabric. The natural wave had returned to it after washing away the crimps and curls of her braid. The discomfort in her scalp from the pins had also eased. If the man had not removed them, they would probably have remained pricking uncomfortably at her skull.
Keeping her back to the other girls, she lifted a hand to her mouth and covered her lips as she remembered. He had been so gentle as he removed each pin, each section of braid, until her hair had fallen free around her shoulders. Then the woman had stroked her hair like one would a cat, soothing her into assumed sleep.
Adelais closed her eyes.
She was sure that if the gentle strokes had been continuous, she would have drifted off to sleep.
It was a dangerous addiction. To know a comforting, gentle touch for the first time. As far back as she could remember, her parents had handled her roughly. Even when she had been good, had done no wrong, the hands that guided her had been a solid as a shackle and bruised her soft, malnourished skin. The awkward but soothing hug from the monochrome man, the gentle sway as they danced, the soft caress of calloused hands along her hair and cheek—she craved it.
Did that make her a terrible person?
She desperately wanted the touch of her captor—captors?—while the thought of her parents made her skin burn with discomfort.
Little freak.
Marcia's words returned her focus inside the room. "He was having a full-on conversation with himself." Adelais had already explained the best reason for that, but Clair's superiority complex extended to her knowledge as well. She wanted to be the one with all the answers, and therefore refused to accept Adelais's. "What was that line about 'the food it waiting'?"
Glancing over her shoulder, Adelais frowned. When had that been said?
"What?" she asked, drawing the gazes of the three to her. "When did he say that?"
Claire pinched her lips into a thin line, refusing to speak. Marcia did so instead. "When we were listening at the door, before…she came in. He said, "The food is waiting". What could that mean?"
"Does everyone get how wacked this is?" Claire demanded suddenly, glancing between Adelais and Casey—as though anything had changed. "We need to get out of here, now-"
The overhead lights clicked on, stopping Claire's words with a choked gasp as she and Marcia ducked together again. Casey only looked up, toward Adelais and the door, and remained in her usual, curled up position. Only this time she was against the far wall, closer to Claire and Marcia so they could talk between themselves without speaking too loudly.
Adelais only took a step to the side, freeing the space directly in front of the door. The back of her heel bumped the leg of the cot she and Casey usually sat on, halting her from moving any further. The door unlocked and swung open, revealing the monochrome man. He spared a glance at the three farthest from him, then over to where Adelais stood blocking the bathroom entrance.
Overall, he looked the same as the last time she had encountered him. Except for the grey pail he carried with him, with spray bottles and cloths inside.
Cleaning supplies.
Thinking back to when Casey had emerged from the washroom, Adelais had used the excuse of needing to pee again when she stepped into the small room and quickly cleaned up after the other two girls. She did not want to dirty one of the face cloths they had been provided, so she bunched up a small bit of toilet paper and wiped around the sink to collect the spilled water. Not wanting to risk the wad of toilet paper blocking the toilet, she tossed it into the small bin directly next to it. Then she straightened Marcia's towel and Casey's face cloth.
She had cleaned everything as best she could.
Do better!
Understanding his intent, she moved her leg around the end of the cot to open the way to the bathroom. Other than the shift of her legs, the rest of her body barely moved or swayed. His gunmetal eyes tracked her until she stopped, having only taken two simple steps to her left. When he knew she was not making a move to run, he left the door wide open to approach the bathroom she had opened up to him.
He passed close enough to her that she could feel the warmth of his body heat.
Stopping in the door, he took in the bathroom.
Was it obvious that someone had attempted to clean it? She was sure no bits of the toilet paper had been left on the sink, and there was not much she could do for the water in the shower. The effort she had put into this room would not have been enough for her mother; she would already be carrying new bruises if that were all she did while under her parents' roof.
The man glanced over his shoulder, but he looked down near her hands rather than up at Adelais's face. "Who cleaned?" he asked. So, he had noticed.
"I tried," she admitted calmly, quietly, while keeping her focus on the wall directly across from her. She repressed the bone-deep urge to flinch at her own words.
Did I tell you to try? No! When I tell you to do something, do it properly!
Her attention tracked him in her peripheral vision without actually looking at him. Turning at her declaration, he stared at her face for a moment before refocusing on the other three. "Please, keep your area neat. An unclean bathroom is unacceptable." He lifted the bucket and pulled one of the bottles out. "To make it simple, I've colour-coded these; blue is for the floor, and the pink bottle for the ceramic surfaces."
He appeared to want to say more but stopped himself, releasing a long sigh as he glanced toward the main door for a moment. Finally, he lifted the bucket up in front of himself. He cast his gaze down to the floor, standing stiff on the opposite side of the bathroom doorway as Adelais. She heard no movement from the others, so her hand automatically reached out for the handle of the bucket.
Too long, too slow.
The frightening reflexes the man had used to snatch Marcia returned when his free hand snapped out to shackle Adelais's thin wrist in his hold. She could not supress the jump of surprise and fright, nearly biting her tongue when her body went from placidly waiting to strung up like a bowstring. A gasp sounded from behind her, but from which of the girls she was not sure.
Initially, she kept her eyes down in the hopes that remaining still and timid would soothe the man's anger. Yet he made no other move; not to hurt her nor release her. So, she raised her gaze from where it had been locked on the bucket to meet the hard stare being used to pin her in place. There was no way to understand what was going through his mind; he looked stern and tense by his expression, but the longer Adelais looked at him the softer his grip on her wrist became—for which she was thankful, since he had grabbed her directly over a still-tender bruise.
When he finally released her completely, she dropped her hand back down to her side. Do not take the bucket—she could understand the message.
Still holding the bucket out, he motioned with his free hand toward the other girls in a 'come hither' gesture. Finally, movement sounded behind Adelais as Casey rushed past her first, taking the proffered bucket. Claire and Marcia came next, more hesitant, then rushed quickly into the bathroom so as not to linger in his reach for too long.
Adelais remained where she stood.
He moved into the space of the door, blocking in the three that were now crouching on the floor around the sink. The oldest of them was left staring at the wall again, his focus turned from her completely. Was it trust that prompted him to give her such an open opportunity, or was he confident that she could not escape past the numerous locked doors?
What did it mean for her that she didn't even glance toward the door in consideration?
"Patricia has reminded me that I was sent to get you for a reason," he explained calmly, though she could hear the reluctance in his voice. Adelais could not begin to understand the nuances of his mind, but it was clear that he had been scolded by the woman. She was the one who claimed she could talk to him, that he listens to her. Patricia.
It only solidified Adelais's belief that this was someone with D.I.D.
"You are sacred food, and I promise not to bother you again."
Fighting against a frown, she continued to stare at the wall with unfocused green eyes. Food? Sacred food?
Even as he walked past her, Adelais kept her eyes forward. She tracked him in her peripheral without actually moving her gaze, noticing immediately when he seemed to shudder and halt just in front of the door. The only sound in the room was the ring of metal as he pulled a cluster of keys out of his pocket. Instead of just closing to door and sealing them in again, he glanced over to Adelais. The stiff look remained, but there was less reluctance than before as he looked at her.
"You, come with me."
The same prickle-shiver from earlier danced across her skin.
Obeying the order, the blonde turned her back on the other three and slowly followed his path. He kept to the side so she could exit through the door ahead of him, stopping in the same place as last time while he closed and locked the door behind them. She wanted to look around again, but kept her eyes focused down at the floor instead. She still was not sure whether she was in trouble or not. A reason for his displeasure was elusive, but there had to be a cause for grabbing her wrist.
She could feel the body heat he let off when he came to stand behind her, the soft exhale of his breath shifting her freshly dried hair at the back of her skull. Remaining still was a bit more of a chore this time around, now that she knew what it felt like when he touched her.
Surprisingly gentle fingers moved her hair aside to reveal the wet material beneath, dropping the waving strands of dark blonde over her right shoulder. "Your sweater's wet." His voice was rough, deep, and seemed to rattle her down to her core when he spoke so close behind her. Then he moved away. "You should take if off, you'll get cold."
All of the blood in her body went cold.
"If I take this off, can I have my scarf back?" she requested, knowing that speaking in outright refusal might upset him. "I'll be cold without my sweater."
He said nothing for the longest time. If the exit had not been in front of her, she may have assumed that he'd snuck out of the room. Then her scarf appeared in her view, finally pulling her attention from the floor. It took more effort than she expected to stop her hand from shaking as she reached out to reclaim her scarf. The fabric was soft and familiar, easing her tension just a bit. Holding the material to her chest, she glanced to where he remained standing to her right.
Neither moved for a long moment, a steady pause held between blue and green as they watched one another carefully.
It was Adelais who dropped her gaze first. She stepped to the left just one pace, putting some distance between them before she draped her scarf over one arm and slipped her fingers beneath the hem of her sweater. With careful and conscious motions, she pulled only her sweater up and left the undershirt in place. Her hair remained draped over her right shoulder, blocking her neck from the man's view, when she pulled her sweater over her shoulder and immediately draped the scarf around her neck and shoulders.
Once certain she was as covered as could be, she glanced at the man through her peripheral—trying to peek throughout her own hair at the same time. He remained exactly the same, waiting as she pulled the sleeves of her sweater off of her arms and diligently righted the inside-out appearance. Only once everything was as it should be—as though she was preparing to hang it in her closet—did she turn to the man and offer it.
He was still looking at her scarf-covered shoulders but took the fabric from her all the same.
The undershirt she had donned that morning—or was it yesterday?—was thinner than she would prefer but even then it hadn't been her choice. Her small waist was even more prominent than it had been when he held her and danced with her. The only assurance she had was that the shirt was not see-though.
Finally, he stepped away from her and carefully draped the sweater over the chair that was situated in front of the computer.
It was there that he lingered, as though taking a moment to organize his thoughts.
Adelais fought the urge to fuss with her scarf, wanting to be certain that it was covering her throat. Instead, she let her eyes scan over him from her place out of his view. The clothes he wore were the same, she could even see the outline of the colourful cloth he carried in his pocket. The strain of muscle against cloth was obvious and she was reminded of his chest pressed to hers as they had swayed together in their awkward dance.
Was he deprived of contact, same as she had been? Did he crave a touch that wouldn't hurt him; instead, one that offered protection behind the simple contact?
When he looked to her, she was too slow to avert her eyes to a neutral place. His gaze caught hers and held. She could almost swear the stern lines of his face softened just a fraction.
Abandoning the chair and her draped sweater, he returned to stand in front of her. She held his gaze as he moved, leaving her tipping her head back once he was standing directly in front of her. With slow movements, he carefully slipped his fingers beneath her hair and pulled it free from where her scarf had trapped it against her throat. Thankfully, the scarf remained in place. The familiar sensation of his roughened fingers glided across her jawbone, just barely ghosting the base of her hairline before he lifted the strands free.
Whether to recall her previous words or because he spotted an unknown reaction from Adelais, he asked, "Are you cold?" On the contrary, she assumed she was on fire.
Her skin was uncomfortably warm beneath her clothes, but she knew it was not from the temperature of the basement they were in.
"No, thank you."
Nodding sharply, he let his hands linger at her shoulders for a moment more before she felt the slight pull of his fingers. Her body was prompted forward with the simple nudge. Drawn in against his chest again, her heart rate picked up. Was this anticipation? It was so different from the fear she carried with her when she knew something was coming, knew that her mother as on a warpath that day. Yet, both made her heart race, both had her skin prickling with the eventual touch.
He had not ordered her to close her eyes this time, so she held his gaze until he had moved past her view to rest his chin on her shoulder. The warm breaths of air were not as easily felt through her scarf, but she knew they were there.
Hold me.
His arms went around her gradually. Hands starting at her shoulders, they slid down her back and tightened until her arms were pinned at her sides and the hot press of his palms seemed to span the length of her spine.
This time, she could not repress her shiver. He tightened his hold on her in response, pulling her in closer until she could feel the press of muscular thighs against her thinner ones, the toes of his shoes tapping the outsides of her small boots.
Compelled by a foreign desire, Adelais let her head tip forward.
Stand up straight, what have I told you about slouching?
Her cheek came to rest on the carefully pressed material covering his shoulder. Arms remained at her sides, but she allowed herself to relax enough that she was fully leaning into him. The shift of his head was felt from where she was resting on him, then the cool tip of his nose skimmed her ear as he inhaled the scent of her hair.
"Adelais."