The longer the man drove in the car, the more Casey's uneasinessiness began to settle.
That unpleasant anxious knot she usually felt, deep in her gut at the mere thought of heading home to where she lived with her Uncle... it lessened as each moment passed by between the pair of them silently. It was... bizarre; Shouldn't she be freaking out about the fact that this guy had somehow managed to jack her Uncle's car, and now, he was taking her to God knows where to do only God knows what to her. Yet, there she was, relaxing slightly in the leather seat, her limbs becoming as limp as noodles with a strange contentment at the idea of never having to endure her Uncle ever again.
Then again, Casey reasoned that whatever this guy had in store for her, it was probably nothing compared to what had always been waiting for her at home with her Uncle.
Every now and then, she'd turn her head slightly, eyeing the man that sat inches from her in the driver's seat as he controlled and steered her Uncle's car. There's was something about him that seemed so stif, so austere. Even from the side and with what little she could see of his facial features from the dim headlights of cars that reflected past them on the road they were driving on, she saw that his eyebrows were sort of set in a rigid, menacing way, the corner of his lip pulled down and set into a permanent sort of unfriendly frown. He was definitely the guy she had noticed that morning at school, hanging around by the fence, looking in. The guy that had dared to comment on the barely there (or so she thought) blood stain on her sleeve.
Was that why he had been watching her that morning at school and had seemed so fixated on her? Had he been scoping her out, debating on whether she was the right victim to snatch away or something?
Clearly he had been, if here they were...
Although they were in the safe and warm confines of the car, Casey started to feel a little chill overcome her. She reached down, covering one hand over the other. Now she wished he hadn't demanded she'd take off her jacket. Although she had a long sleeved sweater on beneath it, it was only one layer- she didn't feel covered enough. She stroked her thumb repetitively around her wrist, that sore cut from the morning making itself known that it was still fresh. Two rubs over it with her thumb, it stung and began to weep.
She clenched her eyes shut automatically over the brief sting, yet like always, the pain was a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, reminding her she was alive, that she was still surviving on. It grounded and centered her back down into the moment, into the present, where it was so confounding and strange. She reopened her eyes slowly, blinking forward outside the windsheild trying to make sense of her surroundings.
Whereever this guy was taking her, it wasn't an area she recognized. She couldn't even tell what street they were in anymore.
From the moment this happened, Casey found her eyes flitting over to the man again as she swallowed dryly.
His hands were still clenched over the steering wheel, long sinewy fingers wrapped around it and holding it tight. He was just driving her somewhere... not even bothering to speak at all. He hadn't given her an explanation or anything. Then again, was it best that she didn't know what was truly in store for her?
He must have felt her eyes staring at him, because suddenly he shifted his head to look at her. The shiny disks of his glasses reflected in the glare of a cars headlights from in front them. Blue. His eyes were blue, Casey thought. Probably the deepest shade of blue she'd ever seen on a person before.
And they were emotionless, too. Dead eyes. Nothing in them.
Why was that a comfort to her- the fact he had dead eyes? Maybe she'd lived so long, seeing the angry eyes, the hungry wolf eyes of her Uncle as he pinned her down like a lion to a gazelle, that... now she'd come to appreciate a pair of eyes with nothing in them?
She could just see the shift, the change in his expression as they held each other's eyes for a passing moment. His jaw tightened, the tendons twitching as that sour sucking-on-a-lemon look came over him again. Then, maybe as though finding her unapologetic gaze disarming given the circumstances, he abruptly turned his head back onto the road, like it was too much, almost too much to have his victim stare willingly into his eyes.
She thought she saw his head shake a little as he closed his eyes shut for the briefest moment, as if he was scolding himself for something he'd just done. One hand loosened off the steering wheel, and then he scraped his palm over the top of his bald scalp, as if agitated all over again and annoyed. Casey wasn't wearing the stained sleeved jacket anymore so she had no idea what his problem was.
"Not long now," he finally spoke, breaking the silence shared between them. His voice was barely above a whisper, his tone brusque and thick with his accent. "Not long until we get there."
Casey wanted to ask where 'there' was, yet found she could not remember how to speak. As it turned out, she hadn't needed to, as he continued a second later like he was reading her mind.
"It does not matter where we take you or how long you'll be with us for," he continued, "All that matters is that you do as your told until we present you."
Us. We. Those words rang in her head, confusing her. He made it sound as though he were not alone, as though he had accomplices. Had someone hired him to take her? He obviously was not working alone by what he was telling her. But there it was again, his talk about presenting her. Presenting her to who exactly? His words were so evasive, with not giving much of anything away.
"I've chosen you, and I alone," he continued in his deep Bostonian voice, surprising her. "You should really be thanking me for the privilege. The others aren't so lucky." Others? As in other girls?
Her heart stuttered at the comment. Privilege? What privilege? Did he think taking her had been a privilege to her? Unless... he somehow knew about her life and her Uncle? Unless he could... tell?
But no, surely he couldn't know. She never told anyone about it, not ever. Her Uncle always made sure she didn't.
Silence fell on them again, where the man just drove and no longer talked again. This time, it began to bug her. Nothing made sense. Nothing.
Clearing her throat gently she began, "What-" But her voice sounded too husky, too strangled, so she had to clear it roughly before trying again, "What- what's your name?" There was a tinge of desperation in her voice, but she couldn't help it. No answer came, even as she stared and waiting. "M-my names C-Casey."
"Dennis." The instance it flung out of his mouth, softly-spoken with a coating of regret, like he hadn't wanted to reveal it in the first place, Casey felt her heart pick up in pace with a swelling amount of hope.
If she could just get him to talk more, to say something that actually started to make sense...
"Y-you said us, before? Us? We, like... like there's others doing this as well?"
Apparently talking wasn't something this 'Dennis' appreciated. She caught it in the way he went rigid, in the way he sighed loudly.
"Keep quiet now," he said gruffly, hastily, avoiding her question. There was a clear note of warning in his tone.
But Casey decided she didn't care. What worse could be done to her already?
"S-someone else is working for you, aren't they?" she prompted impatiently, ignoring the fact that she was probably getting on his nerves. "It's why you say 'we' and... and 'us', isn't it?" Her voice was desperate. Filled with desperation to understand. "W-why are you even doing this to-"
He snapped, although Casey wasn't entirely sure she didn't already know it was about to happen. She could tell she had been pushing the man beyond breaking point. She could just tell. And she was right.
Just like with her Uncle, she was powerless, it had happened so dramatically.
She'd since learned that fighting only caused her to suffer in the long term.
Subservience and submissiveness was the only thing that served her well, particularly with older men who she was no match for in strength physically.
He'd reached into his pocket, pulling two small things out. She realized what one of those things was as he held and attached it over his face; a stark-white hospital mask that covered his nose and mouth. Then next, she noticed a small canister of something.
It was all a blur of movement. One hand tightened over the steering wheel, as the other gripped the small canister. Then this 'Dennis' had lifted his arm and pointed the nozzle of that canister in her direction in the passenger's seat and it was too late. Two rapid, relentless squirts was all it took.
She knew she'd breathed it in as soon as it entered the air between them. It went into her lungs, invisible particles, making her throat suddenly too tight, her eyes heavy.
Casey was gasping heavily, heaving, the rear of her head falling back dozily against the seat of the leather behind her. Her eyes remained, heavy, squinted, on the 'Dennis' man. Through blurry eyes, she caught his head turning in her direction as he looked back at her, half of his face obscured by the mask, only his eyes through the discs of his glasses visible.
Casey wondered if she looked exactly like what a near to stunned animal looks like; Helpless, heaving, lying there, eyes going in-and-out of focus as the predator stares back at them, waiting for the precise moment to strike. She thought she felt her breathing slow, her heart reducing in rate as her blurred eyes remained on the man, who peered back at her, his face impossible to read.
All she could see were those eyes of his; those wide blue, unwavering eyes as they stared back at her distantly through the frames of the glasses.
Like a video running on slow motion, she saw him rip that mask off, his mouth and nose coming into view. The last thing she thought she saw and felt, as she slipped slowly off into unconsciousness, was his hand reaching out towards her and the odd feeling of rough warm knuckles tenderly scraping down the side of her cheekbone.
...
He just couldn't help it, he couldn't resist, stupid as it was.
It was her skin. Her flushed skin, her dozy light brown-iris eyes and the enlarged black pupils- a known side effect of the chloroform- as they wavered in and out of focus at him. Her skin just looked so smooth, so tempting. He knew he wasn't supposed to do it, yet... too late.
The instance he pulled back from his knuckles grazing the warm side of her face, Dennis felt guilt overcome him. It had been just far too tempting. He was trying to be good. Truly, he was.
Tut, tut, tut. Her voice plagued his mind, as it always did whenever he forgot himself. Dennis, look what you've just done. I thought you had this little thing under control?
Scolding. Reprimanding him.
You're not well. You know you're not to touch her, mm-mm. Hmm?
"Thank you for reminding me, Patricia," he spoke out loud in the empty car, aside from the fairly young girl that was passed out in passenger's seat beside him. A bitterness burned in his gut, laced with shame as he allowed his eyes to briefly meet his reflection in the rear view mirror determinedly. "It won't happen again this time." He was uncertain whether he was simply trying to convince himself of that; The imprint of her warm, smooth skin, her cheek... it made his knuckles tingle where he'd let himself touch her. "She was sent to us for a reason."
Sorry for taking such a long time to undate. Ill be more frequent now I have free tome available to me. Hope youre still interested? Thanks for reading and let me know your thought :)