Today is the day. Hannah had played the scene over and over in her mind. She'd spent the last two weeks carefully constructing her plan, and even as her heart hammered against her chest, the tiny life tumbling in her belly gave her the courage to move forward, no matter what the circumstance.
I'd rather die free than live scared, she thought sadly as she sat on the edge of her bed. In the absence of technology, of sunlight, of time as she knew it, she'd had plenty of time to think. She'd figured out that Lucius would stop by every eight hours or so. The reasoning behind her conclusion wasn't all that difficult; she knew it took her four hours to read a longer, four-hundred page novel. She'd finished two at a time in between visits. All her time was spent reading or sleeping—and it was then that she had a rough idea of the days that passed. The long abandoned bedside table held an old notepad and pen. Hannah made a habit of writing a tick mark every third visit. If she was right, over a month had passed since she'd been abducted. The thought should have driven her crazy; instead, the knowledge of her time spent brought a little peace.
I have to get the hell out of here, she thought as she stroked her belly. All she wanted was to close her eyes and wake to find it was all a strange, fucked up dream; instead, she was held in luxurious captivity, surrounded by mahogany walls and ivory porcelain tiles, with thick, soft carpet beneath her feet. It could be so much worse, Hannah, the logical, too-long incarcerated side of her thought. They could have locked you in a hole, with no food, no interaction, no books. Part of her felt as if she should appreciate the fact that she had Lucius and her baby to keep her company.
Lucius. The very thought of his name made her skin crawl. She never once thought she was capable of hatred, but after losing all concept of time and date, after his brutal confession about Abel's condition, and after continuing to hold her hostage, she knew that every ounce of hatred was well-deserved. She couldn't fully express her loathing out of fear that he'd cut her off altogether. He was the only person keeping her and the baby alive.
The baby. She ran a soothing hand across her abdomen as she thought of her child. She prayed every single day for the little life that fluttered within her belly, and she prayed for its father too. Her thoughts were consumed by him. She constantly worried about Abel, wondering if he'd woke from his coma—or if he was still in the depths of unconsciousness. She refused to think of him as dead. I would know that, she thought. I would be able to feel his spirit leave me. Every cell in her body told her he was still alive, because death, at this stage of the game, was simply not an option.
She heard his key within the lock. The door swung open, and in walked Lucius, baskets of food in hand. Hannah tilted her head and watched as he carefully walked towards the circular table.
"Good morning, lovely." He greeted her as if they were close friends; he didn't act like a captor. A big, genuine smile lit his handsome features. "I come baring gifts of food."
"Good morning," Hannah whispered as she stood slowly and carefully. Sudden moves caused flashes of pain to streak down her sides, so she'd learned to take her time and save herself a lot of agony. Her bare feet sank into the plush carpet. She made her way to Lucius, hand on her belly, a fake smile plastered on her face. Her stomach grumbled with hunger as she peeked in the basket. She spied four paper-wrapped sandwiches, two plastic containers of soup, two gallon bottles of water, a liter of orange juice, and assorted fruits and vegetables for snacking. See, her conscience admonished, They're taking care of you. Her eyes stared ahead as her mind warred with itself. Prisons feed their prisoners, she retaliated. That doesn't make them free.
"How are you feeling?" Lucius asked. "Any new changes?"
Hannah didn't want to tell him that she could now feel her baby moving, nor would she tell him that she still battled morning sickness. You don't need to know a goddamned thing. She stood straight and shook her head in the negative. Glancing into the bag, she grabbed one of the sandwiches. Unwrapping it carefully, she sat at the table and began eating.
"You're not going to talk this morning?" Lucius asked, obviously annoyed.
"I'm sorry," she answered, feigning contriteness. She hoped he didn't see through her charade. She'd spent the last two weeks cultivating an image she knew he'd respond to. "I'm really tired. Growing a human is harder than I realized." Lucius had the nerve to laugh. Hannah watched as he leaned onto the table. His eyes mischieviously sparkled as he stared at her, but Hannah didn't notice that. What she did notice was his left hand as it laid the keys down. He'd made a terrible habit of it. Hannah marveled at Lucius' lack of common sense. A good warden never allows the prisoner to escape, she thought. And they sure as hell don't leave the keys to freedom within reach. She moved her glance up to Lucius' eyes, and she smiled warmly.
"No wonder you're exhausted," he said, eyeing her larger breasts before his gaze drifted to her burgeoning belly. "Pregnancy can take a lot out of you—but you look stunning. Babies really agree with you."
She wanted to vomit as the words fell from his mouth, but she kept her composure. Another sweet smile was cast in his direction. Kill him with kindness, Hannah thought. Before she could open her mouth to respond, Lucius reached out and traced her jawbone with his index finger. She closed her eyes in revulsion, but she prayed that he didn't notice.
"You're so gorgeous," he whispered. "I would love to have just one night with you."
You'll never get this body, not willingly, she inwardly screamed. Never. Even as she internally rallied against him, her brain was steps ahead. Ever since she saw Lucius' bad habit with the keys, she knew what she had to do. The goal was to get the keys and escape somehow. She closed her eyes and inhaled in an effort to calm her anxious heart. Her child was flitting about within her, as if it could sense her mother's fears. You only get one shot, Hannah. She opened her eyes as a tremulous smile spread across her face. Please forgive me, Abel, she silently begged.
"Why would you want a big preggo like me?" she asked. She felt her cheeks flush with apprehension. Her stomach ached with self-loathing as she fully embraced the flirtatious lilt of her voice. You gotta own this shit, Hannah, she coached herself. It's the only way you'll be free. She swallowed hard as knelt beside her.
"You're the most beautiful woman I've seen," he breathed. His peridot eyes sparkled with lust as he stared up at her.
"More beautiful than Ophelia?" she asked.
"You can't compare the beauty of a girl to a beauty of a woman," Lucius prettily replied. Nausea crept up Hannah's throat. She swallowed it down. She hated this. She hated every single second. She looked down, unsure of what to say.
"I shouldn't feel like this." The words fell from her mouth, and she realized it wasn't a complete lie. She shouldn't have felt like her sexuality was the key to her freedom. Her soul ached with every word. She knew that Abel would, more than likely, understand her motive. There wasn't a single strand of DNA that loved Lucius; hell, there wasn't a single strand of DNA that even tolerated his presence.
"Like what, Hannah?" Lucius crept closer.
"I know I promised Abel till death do us part," she began, her voice tripping over the words as she did so. Every syllable felt like a betrayal. I'm doing this for us, Abel. All three of us. "But I can't help how I feel about you." Again, it wasn't a lie. She couldn't help but abhor Lucius. He just didn't have to know that.
Lucius crept closer. Hannah's hands were clammy, and she felt faint as the scent of his cologne filled her nose. He grasped her hands, forcing her to look up at him. Her gray eyes were blank as she stared into his.
"And just how do you feel, Hannah?" Lucius questioned.
"I don't really know," she lied. "I hated you at first, but you've been so good to me. I can't forget that."
"You're a great woman, Hannah," Lucius stated. Hannah couldn't tell if he was playing the same game she was; she chose to believe he was naïve. It was a lot easier that way.
"Am I?" she retorted. The question was aimed at herself more than Lucius. Her emotions threatened to engulf her. Am I really a great woman? Tears sprang to her eyes. A great woman would've gotten out of bed that morning and gone to the store with Opie and Lala. A great woman would've embraced her pregnancy, not hide it. I'm far from a great woman.
"I think you are," Lucius said. It was true. Except for that first day, she'd handled the situation with grace. She didn't fight or complain. She just accepted her fate. At first, Lucius thought her actions were to protect her baby; now, he was uncertain about that. If only Ophelia were more like you, he thought. We both would've been better off.
Lucius' mind was inundated with Ophelia's image. He'd done as he'd been instructed to do; he kept her as drugged as possible. It was becoming harder and harder to accomplish it, because she was building a tolerance to the Morphine. She was able to stay fairly alert, even with high doses of the narcotic in her bloodstream, but that's not what made him nervous. True to Jack Petty's prediction, Ophelia had begun asking more questions. I can't think of that now, he thought as he shuddered.
"Thank you, Lucius," she shyly replied. She watched as he stood and reached a hand out to her. He could see her hand tremble as she grasped it. He gently pulled her to her feet. Now they stood, centimeters apart, and his eyes locked with hers. She could feel his hand trace up her side and catch the back of her neck. She gasped.
"No need to thank me," he said. "It's true."
She pulled back slightly, terrified of what was happening. Yes, she'd planned it this way, but she never realized the gravity of it all. Fear took over. What if he doesn't buy it? The question plagued her, but before she could explore the depths of it, another, more fear-inducing question took over: What if he does?
"You're really scared, aren't you?" he asked, surprised. She nodded. "Why? Why would you be scared of me, Hannah? I haven't hurt you, so why would I start now?"
"I'm not scared of you," she carefully asserted. "I'm scared of the way I feel when you're here." She paused. "I should be faithful to my husband, but where is he now?"
"How do you feel when I'm here?" he asked.
"Weak," she admitted. "I don't trust myself around you anymore."
"Really, now?" Lucius countered. Before she could answer, he caught her lips in a gentle, coaxing kiss. Hannah fought the urge to slap him senseless and endured the gag-inducing assault. Wrap your arms around him, Hannah, her mind coached. Pretend to enjoy it. It won't last long.
As they parted from one another, Hannah breathed heavily. Her eyes were bleary as she met his lusty gaze. Her entire body screamed in protest. Her mind did a fair share of yelling as well.
"I didn't think it would be like that," she stated.
"Like what?"
"Amazing," she lied once more. There was nothing amazing in the man standing before her. "I want more."
Responding to her advances, Lucius bent and kissed her again, this time pulling her curvaceous body against his. His hands began to freely roam her waist and her hips before gradually moving his curious fingertips upward. She gasped into his mouth once he grazed her breasts. When she shivered, he took it for desire. Hannah trembled with revulsion.
A high pitched string of beeps filled the room, abruptly stopping Lucius. With a groan of frustration, he pulled away and grabbed his burner phone from his pocket. Without hesitation, he answered it. Hannah was grateful for the reprieve.
"Yeah?" he answered. Hannah could hear a deep, muffled male voice on the end, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. "I'll be there shortly."
Hannah watched as he clicked the call away, and he turned towards her.
"Can we take a raincheck on—" He gestured in the space between them. "This?"
"Of course," Hannah murmured. She clenched her hands into small fists and dug her nails into her palms.
"Later," he said. It wasn't a question. She nodded. I'm not going anywhere, she thought. Not yet, anyway. He turned away, and without a word, he grabbed the keys and left the room, locking the door behind him.
The second the lock clicked, Hannah's tears flowed.
"What the fuck have I done?" she sobbed. Her whole body shook as she cried her heart out. She sank to her knees and allowed the sheer, aching pain to engulf her. She stayed there for a while and hurt. It was needed. It was necessary.
Get up, baby. The words were clear as they traveled through her head. Get up.
Her eyes flickered open. Abel. His voice was beautiful in her ears.
You gotta keep going, baby. For me. For our child. For us.
"I know," she whispered. "I know." She couldn't fail now. She knew that doing things this way would be hard; she knew she'd hate every second of it, but she also knew that freedom didn't come by sitting idly by, waiting for someone to set her free.
She sat up and pulled herself to her knees, then pushed her way up to her feet. There was only one way to get out of here. She had no weapons—no guns, no knives. The only things she had to overpower that bastard were her mind and his sick lust. She paced towards the dresser, where she found what she sought.
Knee socks. She smiled. They were long, black chenille. It's all part of the plan. Lucius had been dumbfounded when she'd asked for them.
"It's so cold in here," she'd explained at the time. "They would really help."
She was astounded when he brought them to her at the next visit. She made a point of wearing them when he was around, so he wouldn't suspect anything. She stretched them. They are absolutely perfect.
"Something so simple," she said low. A slow, self-satisfied grin lit her face. "Will do you in, Lucius." Is it really that easy? She walked away from the dresser and over to her bedside table. She opened the small drawer there and placed the socks inside. Later. Lucius' farewell caused tears to flow again. She was terrified.
"I love you, Abel," she said into the silence. "I will do anything for you. I hope you know that."
That's my girl. Abel's voice rang in her ears as she closed the drawer. Do what you have to do. I'll be waiting when you get back. A sense of peace flooded her, despite the trepidation and fear that came with her plan. The need to escape far outweighed anything else. She owed it to both herself and her baby to try to run. She stroked her stomach again, knowing she was already in love with the life that dwelled within her. She already knew she'd go through anything to protect her child, even if that meant dying. As the baby kicked around in her abdomen, she knew that, no matter how awful it would be to pretend to want Lucius, it was a necessary evil.
"We're gonna get out of here, love," she said to her small belly. Her resolve grew with every flutter, every light kick. "We're gonna be free, and we're gonna be safe. I can promise you that."