A/N: We don't own anything except our keyboards. Reviews get sneak peeks as always. See our author page for other info and the update schedule.
"When we are no longer able to change our situation, we are challenged to change ourselves."
-Viktor E. Frank
I would never, ever forgive or forget that little stunt yesterday. My brows scrunched and forked downwards in annoyance at the merest flicker of thought of it.
It hadn't hurt to sit on the sandpaper per say, as long as I sat completely still. Where it touched my bottom was pretty uncomfortable with the still tender flesh merely coming in contact with the abrasive surface. It was more so the contact with the vastly more sensitive and delicate skin of my netherlips. Either way, it was damn uncomfortable and not something I'd likely forget any time soon.
"You're scowling, pet. Keep that up and you'll get wrinkles early," Jasper muttered to me, an amused lilt to his words and oddly enough a matching glint in his eye.
That was new. He was typically very dour or blank faced. Always hiding behind some sort of mask. Come to think of it, it's probably one reason why we've rubbed along so poorly, everything else aside. If he didn't want to act human then I had no natural inclination to treat him like one. Consciously or not and obviously against my better judgement. Suffice to say, I didn't like fake people.
I smoothed my expression and hitched an eyebrow in silent question. He gave a small, slow nod. I was certain my ears were failing me when I heard the low rumble of a snicker as he got up to retrieve our coffee. I was glad his back was turned, it gave me time to dispel my look of incredulity back into my former placid expression.
I fixed both of our plates from the buffet of food Charlotte had put together this morning. The scrambled eggs looked more on the dry side, however, and I figured with fresher, tastier food he may retain this better mood that he'd apparently found somewhere on the trek from the bedroom to the kitchen. This found me digging out a skillet from the cabinet and some eggs from the refrigerator. I knew he liked his eggs over easy and had a tendency to break the runny yolks either over toast or the cubed hash browns Char was in the habit of making. I had always shredded my potatoes because I could never make them crispy when they were cubed like she managed to.
I would have to ask Jasper if I could sneak to the kitchen sometime and hover over her shoulder in order to learn her hash brown voodoo.
I turned the gas stove on and lowered the flame just so, placing the pan on it. In it went a few pats of butter. Once the butter was liquid and slightly bubbling, in went five eggs. I was so focused on keeping an eye on the solidifying whites I didn't hear him come up behind me. The feel of a hand on my side as he peered over my shoulder caused me to start and whip my head to the side. He glanced at me with a raised brow.
"The buffet eggs looked a little… dryish. I thought you may prefer something a bit fresher," I shrugged and looked down as heat filled my cheeks, feeling a little foolish. The stroke of his thumb sent my eyes darting back to him.
"That's very thoughtful of you, Isabella. Thank you," he said before retreating back around the bar to his usual seat to watch me finish.
After being here for so long I could always tell when he watched me, even without having to look to confirm it. I was long used to the way the fine hairs on the back of my neck would stand on end. Now it was almost like a light caress that roamed across my shoulders and back. Perhaps I was used to being watched now.
I found it disturbing, adapting to something like that in this situation but perhaps not overall weird. I'd read plenty enough books to comprehend that it was a rather common practice between certain types of people. Be it a romantic situation, a guardian and their charge, or a captive and captor pairing. This matched closer to the latter and certainly not the first my brain was hasty to point out.
Focus.
Eggs gently went onto the plate, his atop of his hashbrowns and mine next to my biscuits. I deposited the plates from the prep side and circled around to take my seat. He was already poking the yolks, causing the golden treasure inside to seep out and mix with his other food. I on the other hand was indulging in my coffee. I'd made it in front of him once and he was able to replicate it without asking any questions. He paid far too much attention to me. This made my life more complicated than it should have been.
"You're scowling again," he intoned quietly around a mouthful of eggs and potatoes.
I took a mental clothes iron to my face as I relaxed it back to a pleasant, more neutral expression. It was plausible, I supposed, that losing oneself so much in ones thoughts was a side effect of not having anyone really to talk to.
"Thank you for the coffee, Master. It is perfect," I said as I raised my mug to him in a small salute before taking another sip.
"You're welcome, pet. However it makes me wonder, why the scowl?" he asked lowly.
It had not escaped my notice that his voice was more gravelly for a couple of hours after he woke up. For the briefest of seconds I stopped short and wondered when I had started noticing... He also was overall quieter after waking for a while, now that I thought about it. It was not an unpleasant thing if I allowed myself to be honest. Edward nor Jacob ever had any qualms with being chatterboxes from the word go, especially if they thought it would annoy me. And I? All I wanted to was to wake up and come to terms with the world.
After yesterday was said and done, honesty was my most important policy.
"I find you far too observant, if I may be frank, Sir," my eyes slid to him before I could stop them. A ripple of fear darted across my mind before I caught sight of the quirk of one side of his mouth.
"You are not the first, nor probably the last to say so, pet. However, I am glad your drink is to your tastes. And if I may return the compliment, your eggs are delicious. It's a precarious balance to get the whites done enough and still keep the yolk as runny as possible," He replied before returning to his food.
"Thank you," I replied.
It was probably one of the highest compliments he'd paid me that I'd cared to hear so far. He dipped his head in acknowledgement and we were silent for the rest of the meal. It wasn't a tense silence, however. It was comfortable. I was locked in a mortal combat with myself between wanting to enjoy this sort of fleeting niceness and wanting to become wary. Nothing nice like this ever lasted. Something was always bound to happen.
Like closing a window, I shut my more negative side out and tried harder to be appreciative of the time it was there. I tried this practice through rinsing the dishes and placing them in the dishwasher. I even managed to maintain it while accepting another cup of glorious coffee with a thank you and a tiny smile. He dipped his head again and put his hand back on my waist to lead me into the living room.
It was strangely quiet in the house even though you could hear activity going on outside. Bal and Makenna must have been in bed still. I had yet to figure out the ebb and flow of the occupants here outside my tiny circle despite how long it had been. It was too irregular to be a pulse but it almost seemed in times like this that the house was sleeping. In other times I could almost feel its life force vibrating throughout it as people bustled about, up and down the stairs and through the halls, across the floors, along the walls. The sensation seemed more acute when I was in the office with my Master.
I allowed him to lead me to the loveseat as my mind meandered and sat beside him without complaint. This too was nice, I realized as I came back to the present. The only light in the room was the morning sunlight that filtered in between thick slanted blinds. Dust motes danced in the rays and reminded me of days spent lying in my apartment floor the day after cleaning, basking in the rare nothingness I had to do while enjoying Wuthering Heights for the eleventy-billionth time. A similar scene had occurred at Charlie's more times than I could count.
It was starting to hurt less now, remembering. That was something, I supposed.
Pale fingers drumming out a tune that only the owner heard, just outside of my peripheral vision caught my attention. He must have slid his arm along the back of the couch while I was wool gathering. He tended to recline like that sometimes when he was feeling relaxed, which was almost never. To distract myself of the offending appendage being almost around me I took a sip of deliciousness and gave a content, almost silent, hum of enjoyment. Eyes flitted across me again for but a moment and then he was looking away again. I glanced over, wondering why and finding out. He was watching Bal lead Makenna by the hand silently into the kitchen. A sigh died on my lips, this was the beginning of the end of our peaceful morning together, I just knew it.
I drained the last of my now lukewarm coffee and placed it into the hand that began waiting when I turned up the cup. He placed our empty pair of cups on the end table and then turned to me, blue eyes probing my brown ones.
"Bal and Makenna are leaving this afternoon, sometime after lunch, so you'll have another chance to hang out with her a bit. Make the most of it. From how Bal was talking last night, they're going to be pretty busy for a while and you may not get to see her again for a few months or so. If you're both good maybe we could arrange a Skype meeting here and there. Would you like that?" He asked.
I felt both sad and relieved at their leaving. Sad because a new friend that I could sort of relate to was leaving. Relieved because they made my feelings towards my situation tumultuous. Nevertheless I refocused my attention where it needed to be at this second.
"That would be very gracious of you, Master. I would like that, thank you," I replied, hoping that I had adequately infused some gratefulness in my voice.
Not that it was fake, I was certainly grateful that contact would be allowed to be maintained in whatever manner. It, like everything else, went back to the root of choices and it highlighted the short list I had available to me. Skype would probably be a pretty good arrangement. I'd get more Makenna and less Balthazar. Win, win.
I didn't care much for Bal, even less so after I got to know him more. He was sort of a prick, personally, despite his bouts of being quite funny. I appreciated that quality no matter how much I tried to snuff out that bit of admiration. His razor sharp wit coupled with a wild card mouth made me burst out laughing before I could stop myself at times. Also he made Jasper laugh. I didn't fight the appreciation I had for that as hard as I should have. It was rare to see him exhibit any sort of real emotion and it was nice to be reminded, even if for only brief moments, that he was human too.
Professionally I ranked him up in the Putin level of awful, seeing as he ran both black market and slave market operations. Gods knew what other pies he had a finger in. Makenna though, she was sweet and she tried to give me advice on my situation. She was trying to help me the only way she knew how and I couldn't really fault her for that. It was what any good friend would do. It was hard, however, not to fault her for the way she handled her own situation. She should want to be free and in my opinion she should fight for it. Not for the first time, I'd had to remind myself that she had moved up in life quite a lot if she was happy with her situation. I on the other hand, had hit rock bottom.
That made me think of that stupid Fight Club quote. "It's only after we've lost everything, are we free to do anything." Or better yet, "Hitting bottom isn't a weekend retreat. It's not a goddamn seminar. Stop trying to control everything and just let go! LET GO!"
Despite mentally sneering at Tyler Durden, I actually enjoyed the book and movie quite a lot. I would have to request to go to the library and see if Jasper had it. If not I may have to actually ask for it. The idea made my gut twist and its bile bubble. So far I'd asked for the absolute minimum. Typically it was requesting to go use the bathroom.
Ugh, time to divert my attention to something less rage inducing. Diverting myself to my previous thought processes of Bal and Makenna was easier than anticipated. I hadn't quite got going on a mental tirade yet, so that always helped.
Sometimes I would watch them and feel a ripple of jealousy over the smoothness and tranquility of their relationship. Makenna seemed as happy as any other woman in love and Bal showered her in affection and cute little gifts. At other times all I felt was rage bubbling below the surface. How dare Balthazar brainwash that poor girl into thinking it was not only ok, but normal to be reduced to a slave? It was easier to have unbiased, not to mention conflicting, thoughts and feelings on it when it wasn't in my face.
Jasper rose and extended a hand, palm up, to me. I accepted and he led me to a more intimate sitting room next to the kitchen. He had snatched a large, ultra-stuffed pillow from one of the couches on the way out of the living room. What for, I could only imagine.
I examined my new surroundings while he did whatever. It was a more old fashioned room with dusky blue walls, fancy cream trim, hardwood floors, and thick, heavy cream drapes that blocked out all but the smallest crack of sunlight. Two gray loveseats faced each other and were separated by a minimalistic coffee table that harkened back to the 1950's in regards to the simplicity and design.
There was no overhead lighting. Lamps were utilized instead to create a more intimate environment. A three shelf bookcase that took up the entire span of the back wall, loaded to the hilt with records was the dominating feature. A beautiful walnut record player with silver knobs sat in the very middle on the top of it all. A set of shelves recessed into the wall just above it. The first one housed a neat line of different alcohols from clear to black. The shelf above that provided all the accoutrements of making probably any mixed drink in existence. Jars of olives, pearl onions, mixers of all sorts except for soft drinks. Containers of toothpicks, multiple sets of shakers, and a multitude of different glassware were on the remaining shelves. If you needed it to make a cocktail with the exception of a blender, it was there. I was sure however that a blender was quite close at hand, should he have the need for one.
If I was making a shrewd guess, I would wager that more in-person business happened in this room than in any other in the house. A place where deals were made, clients were schmoozed and important people were entertained. It was a room I found myself falling in love with, however. I could easily imagine scenarios pulled from the cheap romance novel section at my favorite used book store playing out in a room just like this. If I ever got more freedom I would have to convince him to let me spend more time in here. Preferably with one of those cheap, guilty pleasure romance novels that Renee had left scattered about the house when I was young. I had wanted to be more highbrow in my literature even at that age. Curiosity, though, had been too strong of an attribute even then and I'd bargained with myself that it was okay to like books like that as long as I maintained some actual taste in my literary diet.
I came back to reality to find him watching me casually, hands in his pockets. The pillow had been deposited next to the love seat. He gestured me over with the curl of two long, elegant fingers. Under other circumstances it could have been sexy. Under these, it leaned toward annoying. Still, I was determined for this day not to be fucked up on my account, so I went willingly. He gestured to it and that was all he needed to do. I sank down to my knees and got comfortable.
"Thank you for the cushion, Master. My lower body thanks you especially," I murmured.
It was true, I had been kneeling a lot while we were in the presence of company and it made everything from my feet to my mid back hurt like hell.
"You're welcome, pet," Was his simple reply.
His hand began to play with my hair, letting his long digits drift through the thick waves. He'd French braided it last night after my shower so it would be wavy this morning. I was fairly certain I'd never know where he learned to do hair or understand the why.
That train of thought was cut off by Bal and Makenna coming through the door. He was in the lead with her just one step behind him, head down as always. He guided her to where he wanted her to kneel at and focused himself on Jasper, beginning a lively conversation and completely ignoring the two of us on our knees on the floor.
I listened halfheartedly as the men talked and laughed for what seemed like forever. Mostly I was lost inside my own head, thoughts swirling around inside like fog. They were there but focusing on them was like trying to hold water in cupped hands.
I was resigned to being on my knees by Jasper's side until at least lunch with Makenna directly in front of me, still on her knees at her Master's feet as well. Her head was bowed and she was perfectly still. If I didn't know any better I would think she was sleeping.
"Excuse me, sirs," a deep voice said from behind me.
I jerked, startled, not having heard the sounds of someone else approaching our little group. I didn't even hear the door open. It occurred to me that I hadn't heard it close either.
"We have a situation that requires your attention," said Joseph.
Glancing up, I saw Makenna hadn't moved from her position but her breathing had changed, letting me know she was definitely awake and listening. Well, she was now anyway. I peeked up through my lashes just enough to see Jasper as he looked at my nemesis intently.
"Both of us?" he confirmed.
"Yes, sir," he answered.
Jasper's gaze slid to Bal's as he stood up, brushing his hand over the top of my head.
"I'll have Joseph accompany the girls outside," he offered, "They can wait in the back yard until we are finished."
Bal nodded his approval as he stood, his eyes hard and calculating. He reached down and grabbed Makenna's hands, pulling up gently to let her know to stand as well. I was surprised to see a hand, palm facing up in front of me a moment later. I grabbed onto the hand and stood too, my eyes immediately finding those hard blue eyes that always seemed to know my every move.
"Stay together in the garden," Jasper commanded, "Joseph will be out there with you. We'll come to get you when we're finished."
"Yes, Master," I said softly.
He gave me a tight lipped smile and stepped away, waiting patiently for Bal to finish. I looked over just in time to see Bal kiss Makenna on the lips, their eyes closed, foreheads pressed together. I felt a stirring in my stomach as blood rose to my cheeks. Anger simmered dangerously close to the surface and I looked away from their private moment.
Oddly enough my anger wasn't towards Bal, for once. Although I definitely had plenty for him. No, this anger was directed at Makenna. I felt a pang of guilt before the anger pushed it away and hurt took its place. I had foolishly thought that I had a friend in Makenna. In my solitude I had somehow thought if anyone would be on my side, it may ultimately be her. I thought if anyone's anger could, should, rival mine, it would be hers. But judging from the serene look on her face and the sigh that escaped from her red lips that had just been attached to her Captor's, I did not have an ally in her. She was gone and a textbook example of Stockholm syndrome.
My emotions had inconveniently decided now was a good time to ignore the realizations I had come to surrounding the two of us. My new found honesty policy was starting to wreak some unexpected havoc. Because, if I was honest with myself, Makenna had never been like me, could never view this life like I did because, like I had pondered on before, she had to have come from something much worse to think this was great. Yes, we could be friends, close friends even. But no, I had no real ally in her in regards to changing the situation. I'd do well to remember this.
That didn't change the anger bubbling just under the surface. Just because my brain recognized these things didn't mean it could or would temper my emotional upheaval. Even the best revert to their most base self sometimes when emotions ruled.
Joseph came immediately to our side, seemingly out of nowhere, and beckoned us to walk ahead of him. Makenna fell in beside me and together we silently led the way to the garden with linked arms. Each of us lost in our own thoughts. We came to the table where I had sat and eaten lunch at with Vladimir and Stephan not that long ago, which was good enough for me.
Makenna tugged on my linked arm, other plans in mind.
"Let's sit on the grass," she suggested quietly, "it is beautiful outside today."
I looked back to Joseph and saw him standing a bit behind us, giving us the semblance of privacy. I nodded and together we walked to one of the grassy garden patches in the sun, near the fountain, and sat down side by side.
"How are you feeling?" Makenna asked sympathetically.
I shifted uncomfortably at being reminded of my punishment and grimaced. It was uncomfortable in some places but it was mainly the thought, the instant reminder of the spanking and the feel of the sandpaper that made me cringe.
I had more pressing matters however.
Matters that I needed sorted out immediately.
Before Makenna left.
Before my brain exploded with all the tumultuous and conflicting thoughts pressure cooking away.
Definitely prior to inadvertently exploding at Jasper when, for once, he didn't deserve it and landing my ass back in trouble. Literally.
No, thank you.
"How can you kiss the man who brought you into this life?" I erupted.
"How can you even stand to look at him? How do you live with yourself knowing you abandoned your friends and family to be the play thing of a monster? And worse than that how could you expect me, ME of all people, to do as you do and be happy and grateful for what's befallen me?" By the end I was yelling and flapping my arms about to somehow further demonstrate my point. When I finished I drew my knees to my chest and dropped my head to them, wrapping my arms around them to ball myself up.
That must be what an emptied balloon felt like, I reckoned. Stretched out and distorted, expanded to the limit with all the feelings and thoughts I'd kept inside until it had exploded out of me, quick and dramatic. Much the same as someone letting loose of a big red balloon and watching as it zipped about the room, unsure if it would zoom around harmlessly or knock over the lamp before it finished its course and floated harmlessly to the floor, spent.
Back to the truth. In truth, I wasn't angry at Makenna. I just didn't understand. I was afraid that when I looked at her and saw how she acted and reacted to Bal… I was afraid that it would be like looking at future me. I was afraid that Jasper would break me. That maybe, that process had already been started.
I felt Makenna's slender arms wrap around me and I clung to her. Like maybe, if I held on tight enough I could bring her back to sanity. Back to the reality that she was a lovely human being with worth beyond being someone's possession.
"You are confused and scared," she whispered, "You do not want to lose yourself. But what if I told you that you actually aren't losing anything else beyond the material? Sometimes we are given the rare chance to strip away all the excess and pull back the curtain to ourselves and see what's really there. And you can find that. Here. With Master Jasper. The way I found my true self with my Master. With him I've never lost, I've only gained."
"I would say you were a textbook example of Stockholm syndrome," I replied, "And a whack-a-doodle."
Makenna laughed loudly which elicited a chuckle from me as well. I pulled back and scrubbed my hands across my face, thankful for both the break in the tension and also that she wasn't upset at my outburst.
"Oh, Bella," she sighed, "Look around you. What do you see?"
I glanced around already knowing my surroundings.
"I see a garden, with actual sections of grass in the middle of a Godforsaken desert," I replied, humoring her, "I see a beautiful house, beautiful landscaping, a lovely fountain…" I paused there because that is where the good things ended.
"What do you see beyond the garden?" she prodded.
I swallowed and looked to my left, my eyes trailing to the right, my head following, taking in the sight that surrounded the compound.
"A wall," I muttered bitterly, "I see a razor wire topped fence that is most likely electrified that surrounds me and holds me prisoner. And beyond that… there is nothing but desert."
Makenna nodded like that was the exact answer she was expecting.
Like I'd established earlier, whack-a-doodle.
"Precisely," she quietly replied, "you are protected. No- don't give me that look," she said, seeing that I was about to interrupt her, "The fence was never meant for you. Its sole purpose is to protect the estate and all of those inside it. It is protection. Nothing else."
She moved to her knees energetically and snatched my hands to hold in her own.
"Perhaps you are not aware, but all Master Jasper wants from you is your loyalty. Your trust. Your honesty. But most of all he wants your respect. If you can give him these things I know that you would be so much happier here. You would find peace."
Peter's words came back to me practically verbatim from what Makenna just said.
"People keep saying that," I laughed humorlessly.
She sighed and looked over to Joseph who had not taken his eyes off of us despite pretending to examine one of the rarer desert flowers.
"And still you choose to fight," she said.
I could feel my temper flair up at break neck speed to rear its ugly head again, but before I could open my mouth Makenna continued.
"You just told me everything you saw around us," she reminded me, "Do you see any possible way to escape?"
I looked around again hopelessly, temper once again deflating like the balloon.
"No," I whispered, "I don't."
"Exactly," she agreed, nodding, "There is no possible way to escape alone. And if you did somehow make it past the fence, you said it yourself, there is nothing but desert beyond it. You would die trying to get away from here. And if you did not die, Master Jasper would have his hounds hot on your scent and you wouldn't get very far in the first place."
Before I could reply she continued in a hurried breath, "For the sake of continuing, let's say you did get out and made it far enough through the desert to meet traffic. Do you have any idea of the men who travel those roads? The Cartels, the pimps, and just bad men in general, to name a few. You think any of those men would be better than Master Jasper?" She asked incredulously.
"Surely not all of them are awful. That's absurd to make it out that even the vast majority are anything but normal men." I scoffed.
"Bella, you have no idea of the terrors that are out there. You don't know who you would end up meeting. Most good men wouldn't want to get wrapped up in a fleeing American girl. They have no idea what would happen with their government if they brought you to the authorities. More importantly, they wouldn't know whose wrath they would incur by picking you up. They would be putting their families and children, not to mention themselves in great peril. You think an escape would save your life when truthfully it would likely take it. You stand little chance outside of this fence on your own." Her voice rose louder and louder until she was practically spitting angrily by the end of her tirade, her hands had become little vices around my own.
I flinched as a shadow loomed over us and looked up to see Joseph standing just a foot away now, "Lower your voice, girl."
Makenna looked down, a flush creeping up her neck, "Yes, sir," she whispered.
I pulled my hands from hers gently, rubbing them. She snatched her own hands back to her chest as she wrestled with herself.
I didn't know what to say as she took a few deep breaths, trying to regain control of her emotions. I had obviously struck a nerve and wished, not for the first time, that I knew her back story. Maybe it would help me to understand her better, logically if not empathetically.
"You see," she said quietly, "Life for you could be good. You don't have to be so unhappy. You could have a good life here and want for nothing. You could find a life here with Master Jasper that you never knew you wanted… if you only gave him the chance. He has demands, yes. You have rules, yes. But imagine how good you could have it here, Bella, if you just gave him your respect and your submission."
There was that 's' word that had me clenching my teeth so hard my jaw ached. It made me want to throat stomp someone.
I imagined Jasper felt that feeling often. With my current frame of mind I found a bit of glee in that. Really, I shouldn't have, because it was usually something I had done that had boomeranged back around on me and brought punishment with it. The glee was short lived. The ghost of emotional balloon shot around my brain once more, blowing a mocking raspberry at me before it floated back out of existence.
I started to protest when she held up her hand, "Try it," she implored, "If for no one else, try it for yourself. Give him a chance. Give yourself a chance. See what happens when you respect him and stop fighting him. You're the only thing in the way to your own happiness here."
I stood up angrily, my hands on my hips, "He hit me in the face and locked me in a room for days on end!" I protested.
She stood up as well, eyes level with mine, "And did you do something first to him? Because Master Jasper does not lose his temper like that easily."
I scowled and nodded shortly, "I spit in his face."
Makenna nodded and grabbed my hands again in hers, her anger forgotten, "Master once told me, if you can throw a punch then you better be able to take a punch. It means if you lash out first, you better be able to accept the consequences. Master Jasper is human, just like you."
I nodded reluctantly, her words making sense.
"Try, Bella," she said again, "Please!" I shook my head sadly at her and hugged her, my mouth beside her ear, "I can't. I'm not you. I have no idea what happened to you to make you happy with your life now but whatever it was that moved you up to the penthouse, knocked me into a back alley dumpster and slammed the lid."
Before I could say another word I heard my name being shouted from behind me. I saw Makenna's eyes go wide with fright right before we were tackled to the ground.