A claustrophobic would have a heart attack. A nyctophobic would scream and cry. The area she was placed was both dark and crammed. It was an hour or so later when Ariadne awoke to realize she was in huge trouble. The feeling of her being pulled down a road at high speeds immediately indicated to her that she was in the trunk of his car. Every time Jean hit a pothole, she would pounce up and hit her head.
"Ah!" she muttered in pain and pressed her fingers down on her forehead. With the other arm, she felt around the space to see if she could find anything. One thing she knew was that every smart kidnapper would take his victim's supplies away. Her sack must have been in the back seat.
Time for plan B. She hit her wrist to use the watch but then growled in anger at herself. She left the watch in her sack! What if Jean threw everything out? God damn it! Ariadne started crying to herself, wondering how she could have let this happened.
I should have stayed home! I should have called Jules! The only thing she could do now was scream, like in the movies. No one on the road would by miracle hear her, pull over Jean's car and force him to open the trunk. Screaming and banging would be useless and drain out any energy she still had.
For once, she wanted to see an illusion appear, to tell her she would be fine. No one showed up. In defeat, she lay back down under the blanket Jean draped over her and cried. At each bump, she would put her hands up to push off the door. The tactic wasn't very effective because she'd still hit her head on the floor.
Then something inside her churned. The drug must have made her stomach angry because she wasn't feeling well at all.
Jeans car pulled into a driveway and stopped. Ariadne could hear him slamming the car door and coming her way. The sunlight blasted into her eyes like a flood breaking a wall. She coughed continuously until peaking her head out to vomit.
"You weren't supposed to do that." He said. "But you weren't supposed to wake up either."
To her horror, he was holding a wet rag. Ariadne shook her head and tried to hide in the trunk like a shy animal. Jean leaped in and forced the rag against her face. He added more pressure as she kicked and whimpered and finally got off when she was back down.
Jean pulled her out into the daylight to see his family's summer mansion. No one would be home since he was the only person in the family with the keys. "Home sweet home Cherie. I thought you'd like it."
Ariadne woke up to believing she was in Marie Antoinette's chamber. There were pink flowers on the bed and bordering the wall. On the ceiling were carved golden decorations. In fact, every spot had a touch of gold somewhere. Even the picket fence guarding the bed was solid gold. Bright crystals hung from the ceiling in front of the bed. Over the bed was a canopy with curtains for privacy.
She was surprised that Jean hadn't restrained her in anyway; there was no tape or rope on her. Ariadne thought he would undress her and tie her up somewhere. She got of the bed to see if there was a way out. The door to the right linked to a bathroom about as luxurious as the bedroom. The door in front was locked. The double doors on the left lead to a balcony with a view of the sea.
Ariadne was on the top story of the house. The sea below looked like a play set. She watched the waves lash onto the rocks. A flock of seagulls flew by in a V, free as always. This made her angry enough to think of a solution. It was dangerous, but she believed it was worth the risk.
After taking a deep breath, Ariadne climbed onto the balcony. She kept telling herself that if she calmed her muscles down, the landing wouldn't hurt. Plus, she'd land in water… most likely. The sharp rocks on the bottom made her pull back a little. A voice inside her head told her to jump.
"What the fuck are you doing?" That French accent roared. Ariadne was yanked away from the balcony by the waist and thrown onto the bed. That reminded her of the times her father would grab her and throw her. She backed away from him, tears coming back to her eyes. "You want to get impaled by a rock?"
"Why couldn't you just stay away?" she asked angrily. "Why did you have to go this far?"
Jean chuckled evilly and pushed her down, pinning her wrists to the bedding. "No man can stay away." Ariadne turned her head and sobbed as Jean kissed her temple. His lips were like cigarette ash; they burned her skin. They went down from her cheek to her neck like shots of venom.
Her eyes widened when she felt him unbuttoning her shirt. "Please stop!" she screamed. "Don't do that please!"
Jean looked up. "Your gonna have to get used to it Cherie." He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "If I have to discipline you then I will. So I advise you to be a good girl."
Ariadne shook her head. "You can't just take people against their will." She told him.
"I just did!" he barked. "And if you continue to fight me, I will strap you to the bed! The more you resist, the more restraints you get. And I really would love to see you wearing a gag."
Ariadne spat in his face. "Go to Hell." Her words sneered coldly like winter mist. She expected him to get angrier, but instead, he just wiped her saliva away.
"Do you know the story about Persephone, the Goddess of Innocence?" He asked. Confused at his question, Ariadne nodded. "She was kidnapped by Hades and made into his queen. She was upset with him at first but then guess what? She fell in love with him."
"Is that what you think what'll happen?" She questioned. "It doesn't work that way. You can't tell a person to love you."
Jean sighed and got up. "I really don't give a fuck if you're happy. Because I'm Hades here bitch! It's my castle!" He stood up to leave. "I'll get your dinner for you." Ariadne buttoned up her shirt, disgusted at him.
"I don't trust you." She said. "You're going to spike my drink."
Jean turned around laughing. "You are a smart girl. Since you think I would, you can come down to the kitchen. But if you try to run, I'll send you back up here with nothing."
"Fine." She said walking past him. "I won't run."
Not yet at least.