Darkness throbbed behind her eyes. Then—flashes. Jagged, bright zig-zags as her lids fluttered open. Maisie stirred, her mouth dry, tongue thick and stuck to the roof of her mouth as if her insides were made of papier-mache. Her muscles twitched violently before collapsing, useless and slack. A distant hum, like a faulty fluorescent light. A low, rhythmic thud—her heartbeat, sluggish and thick. The light hurt and her eyes glued shut against the sting of the brightness. Her head rested against something cold, hard, concrete. The air fell stagnant and she felt the sweat on her upper lip drip despite the coolness of the floor she was sprawled on.
She swallowed, her mouth dry, tongue stuck to the roof like a dead weight.
Where was she?
She couldn't remember—no, wait.
The bar.
Lee.
The cab—
Hot chocolate. A fucking sunrise.
A sting. Her arm burned. Her stomach lurched.
She forced her eyes open, prying them against the painful light.
Everything was wrong. The ceiling above her was grey and low, with hairline cracks and water stains. A single bulb swayed slightly in its socket, casting shadows that made the corners of the room move if she stared too long. The air reeked of bleach and damp cloth, but underneath it… something sweeter. Like copper. Like blood.
Her eyes scanned the room, it was bare, a copper pipe dripped, a puddle consumed below. A small red flash drew her attention up, a camera faced her, every scenario of what this could be ran through her. She'd read horror stories like this. Was some sicko getting off on her here, watching her through the pixels on a screen.
Slowly she managed to bring her body up curling her legs under herself as she rested on her knees. Her hands scrambled over her clothes. Still on. Her mesh shirt, her underwear, the black mini skort zipped tight. Even her boots — tied loosely, the way she always wore them. Bile rose in her throat. Maybe it would've been better if she'd stayed unconscious. Grasping at the wall to the side of her she pulled herself up, her hand caressing the dampness, the crumbling plaster and the crusted fluids, she didn't want to think what they were a combination of. As if a new born fawn her legs shook under the weight of her, unable to move. Whatever had been forced into her body hadn't worn off. Not even close.
A sharp clank echoed off the walls followed by the next sound— slower, deliberate. The groan of heavy bolts being drawn back. One. Two. Three.
Instantly, Maisie Flinched, arms hugged her sore ribs, her breath ragged and dry.
For a moment ,there was silence, it rang out into the void and the room held it's breath before the scrapping of metal against concrete piecred Maisie's ears. With failing legs she stepped back into the room, her limbs jelly and her heart pounded against her throat.
A small leak of light drew across the room as the door screamed as it opened, begging to be shut again. Then, a silhouette, it widened across the room then back down as the door slammed shut. There was no brute in his strides, no clenched fists or masked man, this man wasn't afraid to be seen. His moves snake-like, prowling with elegance. A juxtaposition to the room. He strided into the room as if he was attending a cocktail part, pressed navy suit, sharp black shoes and dark hair neatly styled, not a strand out of place. Dark eyes met with Maisie's, and then they dropped over her body, scanning her with detached curiosity. Transfixed on her as if she were a collectable, something he'd been searching for but now he had it, it was… boring?
As he took a step forward, Maisie took a step back, as if the pair were in some mastered dance, each striding towards her. She slid back until her back hit the cool, hard wall. Tears stung the ducts of her eyes but she breathed deep not allowing them to fall. Did he want her to be weak? Was that easier? But maybe he wanted a fight? Maybe thats how he got off on this, the screaming and limbs flailing.
"Quite the entrance from you, Darling" his voice syrup-smooth, clinging to the insides of her ears and ringing out. Her voice barely a whisper as the words floated out weakly, "Where's Lee?" she asked, breath catching on the words. No fight. No plea. Just a question — weak, and stupid, and all she could manage.
Moriarty tilted his head, satisfaction clearly plastered across his face as he tasted her stupid words, smelled her fear and saw her quivering body. "Lee?" He echoed, tapping his finger on his lip and foot simultaniously, "Ah yes, Lee, Tall" he gestured above him "Kind, honest, made you trust him?" he pounted "And god that colone he wore, cedarwood and moss, Jo Malone, little christmas present from me" his words mocked her "He just said all the right things didn't he, so charming" He leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming. "Pity, you really liked him didn't you?"
Maisie's stomach dropped, butterflied returned this time they were battering eachother, raging to escape. Breath halted at her lips, tightening her ribs. "What have you done to him? her fists curled into balls, nails digging into her clammy palms.
Moriarty gave a soft, delighted laugh — like he was watching a child unwrap a particularly cruel present.
"Oh, my dear," he said, voice almost pitying. "There is no Lee."
Silence fell.
Just the soft hum of the overhead bulb, and the sharp, shattering stillness of her breaking.
Then it returned — all of it. Crashing through her like a wave. And the tears came, unstoppable.
The cab.
His arms wrapped her. The needle.
Then the name. What was it.
Sebastian.
Realisation crashed through her, radiated her body, burned through her. She shook involuntarily, anger, fear, and betrayal. They mixed together and made her head spin. She had to hold onto it, brace herself, her legs failed and she crumbled under herself kneeling down, the wall aiding in her not crashing onto the floor, not cracking her skull open.
"What are you going to do to me?" Maisie finally let out, a sob followed, she didn't want to know, not really. She wished he'd just drug her again. Kill her now, get it over with.
Morairty stepped towards her kneeling in front of her, his head tilted with a sad, mocking expression "Oh little Maisie Moo, we've got a very important game to play and you little Missy are the pawn in that game" his eyes trailed her, watching her lip curl and quiver. "How long has it been again since you spoke to your sister? Half-sister? What do you prefer? Since you spoke to Molly Hooper?" he stood over her, glaring down at the girl. Her eyes flickered up at him and her lips parted, heart pounding.
Molly.
Tidy hair. Kind voice. Always smelling like antiseptic and coffee. She used to read stories to her.
Used to.
Molly; Smart, kind, perfect Molly. It was brief, her moments with Molly, she'd visit every other weekend, then just one day stopped. Never seeing Maisie again.
"I don't- what do you want with her?" Maisie flickered a ounce of fire, her fists balling but it was quickly stubbed out as the door swung open, scrapping against the concrete again.
In the doorway, he stood, Lee.
No. Sebastian. His smile gone and his face was scratched from brow down to lip. She'd done quite the number on him. Quite the entrance. His glare a warning to her, to not play up, to not try anything silly, and not to fight, to not have a repeat of the taxi. His glare said everything: Don't.
Don't try anything.
Don't fight.
Don't make this harder.
Moriarty clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and he frowned "Im waiting" he warned, awaiting for an answer. But her eyes could not be drawn away from Sebastian's, a pit filled her stomach.
Im so fucking stupid. I never should of trusted him. I don't trust anyone, except Darcy. I hate him. I fucking hate him. Monster.
"For every second you leave me waiting it will be a day you spend down here without food or water" Moriarty's tone shifted to a sincere warning, a warning Maisie did not want to toy with.
Maisie's thoughts scrambled, then collapsed into one broken sentence, the words blurted out incoherently: "I was Thirteen maybe" she blurted "I don't know, I don't really get on with her, she doesn't see her mum- my mum - our mum. I don't know" she couldn't think. Maybe it had been ten years, maybe it had been five, up until Maisie had finally escaped her home and left for university, every year was a blur. It burned, as Moriarty's hands grabbed the seem of her mesh shirt, pulling down from the neckline, slightly revealing the round scars that trailed her shoulders and chest. He frowned theatrically as if a clown pouting, then another mocking tone and dark smile twisted out of him "Mummy and daddy not so nice?".
Sebastian had noticed them, but it wasn't new news to the pair, they'd been following, watching and waiting for months. Waiting for the right time to strike.
And they found it, last night.
Her eyes locked with Sebastian's.
It all came rushing back.
The library. He walked past her in the Childhood Psychology section, their eyes meeting briefly.
The student union café. He sipped a black coffee by the window, some vintage penguin book in hand, the title not important now.
Open mic night. He cheered loudly at the end of her set, she hadn't noticed, eager to get off stage.
Her stomach flipped. No—no, it can't be—
The post office. How he'd helped pick up her change as she fumbled coins splaying out across the floor.
The therapy office. It was brief, a hairsbreadth moment where he opened the door for her on her way in as he left.
He was always there.
Everywhere.
Idiot. Fucking idiot. Her mind chanted it like a punishment. Over and over and over.
How had she not realised last night, so caught up in the motions?
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. You're a fucking idiot. You deserve this.
She was caught up in that stupid smile, that fake pearly grin, and his kindness, the way he noticed her, not the way he'd been observing her, waiting to strike.
Moriarty leaned in, closer this time as he knelt in front of her, his breath warm and sour with something sweet underneath — like rot trying to play perfume.
"You really thought you could trust someone, didn't you?" he said. "Told him about your favourite record — what was it again? That sad bastard with the acoustic guitar. Bon... Bon Iver?" He said the name like it offended him, "Your big dreams, 'Oh Im gonna work with children and save them, the broken ones just like little me" Pouting "or Im going to sing my soul out, sing about all that horrible stuff that happened' that was mistake one, you let your heart beat a pace faster and ignored that little gut feeling. Shame, seen such good intuition on you. Never mind" He mocked, continuing even when tears fell hard.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
"Emotions, they turn people into such idiots" he deadpanned as if he could read what her mind had been torturing her with for the last few minutes. "Right" the slap his knee as he jumped to his feet made Maisie jump back, shudder as if the slap was meant for her. She could handle a back hand or two, a clip around the ear, even a cigarette burn, but whatever this was. It was too much. Her fingers pinched her wrist, as if she could wake herself from this horrible nightmare. "You did leave me waiting a solid three, maybe four seconds for your answer, but I am a generous man and know that it was probably the nerves of seeing lover boy over there, so heres what we are going to do" his eyes drew dark "You can join us for Brunch".
Bruch? Fucking Brunch? Maisie wanted to laugh manically at the offer. But she hid that emotion concealed it well through furrowed brows and tight lips.
Her shaking legs brought her up, still using the wall to hold her. She couldn't trust whatever food or drink he was about to give her. Pinned against the wall, she yearned for it to swallow her, to drag her to a different dimension. Fucking cosmic God or whateever Darcy said about, not would be the perfect time to do it's thing. Alas she stood glaring between both men. A sigh escaped Moriarty's lips, drawn out, theatrical. "Choose the hard way then" he clicked, "Seb darling make her walk" Moriarty turned, his shoes clicking across the concrete, moving with that predatory grace, leaving them behind without a second glance.
Sebastian moved within a couple of strides towards Maisie, his pace slow, deliberate. When his hand finally reached to Masie's arm grabbing her bicep, it was harsh, instantly pinching her skin, eager to leave black and blue. "No. No" Maisie gasped "I'll walk, i'll go" her fight just made the grasp worse. With each twist and turn, each flail of her arm, his grip tightened until she let out a yelp "Please" she glared at him trying to find the same man she'd met last night. He wasn't there. Lee was never there. "Fucking walk then" Sebastian dragged her, she was merely a ragdoll to him, made of glass beads and patchworked fixings. Her legs carried her against her better judgment, against her gut willing her to fight. Her legs, though trembling, kept moving — against her will, against her instincts that screamed for her to fight, to resist.
He shoved his hand into the small of her lower back, pushing her towards the door and up the stairs. The pressure pushing her toward the door. He was in control. Her legs carried her forward as they ascended the stairs, and all Maisie could do was breathe through the dizziness, through the shock, through the overwhelming rage and betrayal that now flooded her veins.
Steep steps spiralled up towards a small cottage. The air grew thicker as they ascended, heavy with the faint scent of mildew and something else—decay, almost like forgotten rot. Maisie's eyes darted to a window, slowing her down Greenery and trees seemed to surround that side of the house. Certainly not London. Yellowed wallpaper peeled from the walls, weak jundice lighting did nothing for the walls. Sizzling splattered around and the smell of spoked bacon floated around the corner of the hallway. A floorboard creaked under Maisie and she paused, looking out the window once more, then turning her head towards a door, a front door. Latched and locked up, but an exit nonetheless "Move." Sebastian's voice was clipped, a cruel whisper that echoed in the stillness. Stumbling forward, Maisie felt the walls enclose around her, with each passing window, the search for escape dwindled, any escape route locked, bolted, some even soldered shut. The air was thick, stagnant and unforgiving; it was deliberately suffocating. The low, slanted ceiling loomed above her, and the space was claustrophobic, as though it had been designed to trap, not to live in. Dim lights continued the flicker and a gust of strong wind battered against the windows, they trembled at the sound and sight of Sebastian as his boots heavily padded against the floor. It wasn't deliberate, the way her feet shuffled, barely moved against the stained floorboards, "Such a stubborn little thing aren't you" Sebastian mused with a low, teasing voice before shoving her into the kitchen. The stove unattended with the bacon sizzling. Maisie's wide eyes searched the room for Moriarty, for a sign of an escape. Nothing. Her eyes darted to the darkened corners of the room, but his voice cut through the silence like a whip. "Don't look for exits. There aren't any." The cold certainty in his tone sent a shiver down her spine. Sebastian pulled a chair out for Maisie but she did not sit, just glared around her like a deer in headlights. creaks of floorboards came from behind and Moriarty stepped in. She kept her head low, unable to look directly at him. Every inch of the room felt like a trap closing in on her. The walls, the door, the air—all of it seemed to hum with tension, the quiet hum of an unseen predator. Behind her, Moriarty's voice broke the silence, smooth and cold like silk rubbing against glass.
"Don't be such a fool, Maisie." His tone was oddly calm, like a man discussing the weather, yet each word had a bite to it that made her skin prickle. "Sebastian is trying to be polite. But you should know, our patience is running thin." His dark eyes never left Maisie as he approached. The casual detachment in his expression contrasted sharply with the intensity in his gaze. His gaze flicked briefly to Sebastian, a silent exchange between them, before returning to Maisie. Even as he tended the bacon on the gas stove, he still tilted his body towards Maisie. Sebastian's annoyance could not be concealed, his hand reached for Maisie's shoulder, pushing her down onto the wooden chair "Sit" he demanded quietly. Like a well-trained dog, she sat, blinking rapidly. Her body and mind detached, wandered off, away from each other. This couldn't be real. It couldn't. Both men bored into her, watching her as she brought her knees to her chest and rocked slightly, a common response. Fight, flight, fawn, freeze or flop. Maisie was in a midst of Fawn or Freeze, both men could tell. Dissociation settled in.
"Right" Moriarty clapped his hands together, the sound cracking between the silence and yet again, making Maisie jump. He placed a small plate of bacon, scrambled eggs and buttered toast in front of her and Sebastian. Her eyes fell on the food, she knew better than to eat what he put in front of her after last night. Sebastian sat next to her, too close for comfort, his shoulder leaning against her as he tucked in, eating like a starved rabid dog. With the fork in her hand, Maisie pushed the food around, she wasn't hungry anyway, she couldn't eat. Moriarty sat opposite the pair, the whole scene too surreal for Maisie to comprehend. Unlike Sebastian, Moriarty ate calmly, politely, cutting each bit of food up into small bite-sized cubes. Sebastian was half finished before he glared to the side at Maisie, eyeing to Moriarty then to her. "Whats wrong?" Moriarty frowned "Are you veggie?" he genuiely asked, raising a brow. "I'm just not hungry" Maisie admitted, a pile of concrete in her stomach weighing her down. Sebastian slammed his knife and fork on his plate turning to Maisie "Don't be so fucking ungrateful" he barked, Maisie flinched as spit spluttered out of his mouth "Do you know how lucky you are that i've not been asked to literally rip your nail beds from your fingers yet" he slammed his hand on the table for good measure.
"Now, now Sebastian" Moriarty tilted his head "We knew she would be a fiesty one" Fiesty certainly was not the right word, it was pure unrefined fear stopping her from eating. "I know you're confused darling," Moriarty continued, his voice a velvet-coated weapon. "You've had a bit of a rough night, haven't you? Poor girl. But you've got to understand something what i've provided you here is a privilege" he leaned in to Maisie, the table not wide enough to keep him away from the poor woman " You see Maisie, there's a very fine line between survival and desperation. And desperation..." His lips curled into a knowing smile. "Well, it makes people do stupid things. Like not see when they've been given a huge gift of food" he took a bite of his own meal chewing slowly, not rushing to conitnue his statement. "You see, if I wanted to I could starve you, and like Sebby here suggested well, if you really don't play ball, I can be, how would you word it?".
"Sadist" Sebastian quickly responded with a dark grin.
"Exactly and I, we" he pointed to Sebastian with his knife, the table manners wearing thin "can be very creative" he smiled "You catch my drift?" he waited but Maisie still did not move "So I suggest you take this privillege of food and you eat it" he frowned glaring down Maisie.
Desperation. Well, it makes people do stupid things. His words rang in her ears and with shaking hands Maisie grabbed the knife and fork taking a small bite of scrambled eggs. It hurt as she forced them down, swallowing full pieces without chewing. Maisie's heart thudded louder, almost as if it were trying to escape her chest. The very air seemed to constrict around her. Sebastian, sensing her unease, leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear, as if feeding off her fear "Like I said that fight'll be gone soon Maisie" he taunted. He dragged his hand slowly across her arm, his touch cold and unyielding. Goosebumps rose like dagged, piercing her skin, his touch like electricity, she didn't want him to touch her. Didn't want him near her, to talk to her, whisper his hot breath into her ear, to smell is tobacco breath or cedarwood cologne.
Moriarty let out a soft, low chuckle, the sound a dangerous hum in the back of her mind. "Oh, come on, Sebastian. Don't be too hard on her. She hasn't had the chance to see the true opportunity we're offering her yet. The choice, the real choice." Maisie chewed, swallowed, and repeated. Her face bare, shallow and void of any emotion. Chew. Swallow. Repeat until the plate was empty. Everything tasted like cardboard, like he'd made dollhouse food, fit for a trapped doll. Her eyes dared move away from trailing the grain in the table, she followed it's swirls like waves, a futile attempt to calm herself.
Moriarty clapped his hands once, the sound sharp and theatrical. "Bravo," he purred, as if she'd just performed a monologue on stage. "See, Sebastian? She can be obedient."
How humiliating, how they spoke about her as if she some pet. In her hand her fork clenched so tightly her knuckles had turned white. She felt like if she blinked, she'd fall apart. And they'd love that. Watching her cry, beg, plead it's what they wanted, to break her like porcelain and glue her back together in their mould. She couldn't let that happen. She'd play the obedient girl, but that's all it would be in their twisted show. A play, an act. Behind her glossy eyes, something burned. She'd burn this cottage down if she had to. There had to be a way out. She'd die before allowing these men to tear her to shreds and haphazardly stick her back together. The creak of Sebastian's chair snapped her out of her twisted thoughts of ash crumbling down as the cracked floorboards burned under them all. He'd shifted back leaning back nonchalantly his thumb tracing the scar she'd left across his face from her fight, her performance. Evidently he held a grudge from that blow, despite every right she had to fight back. Moriarty leaned in, close again, this time close enough that she could smell the wine on his breath, aged and rich- too early to have on breath. "So" He murmured "Now you've been gratiously fed, we should discuss what comes next" he set his knife down precisely and deliberately "You can eat, sleep, i've got a room for you, you can even write those sad little songs all day if you want. For the most part you are free to do as you please in these walls. Think of it as your home. You can survive here. I'll allow that. But only if you make the right decisions. And trust me, we'll be able to tell if you're lying." his eyes glassy, like a predator finally biting into the neck of his prey, tasting the first splatter of blood from it. "I just need a few things from you, it's just a game and you're just here to support me and once it's done, providing you listen and make the right choices, behave" His tone turned instantly cruel and cold "Then you might just get to the end of the summer and be ready to start your final year at uni with Darcy unharmed" Maisie's eyes flickered up to Moriarty's with fire "You lay a finger on her and I swear I will-"
"What will you do?" Moriarty tilted his head, snapping in front of her "I mean really look at the situation, what will you do Maisie Moo?" his eyes glazed over, she was merely an ant and if he wanted to he could easily crush with his thumb. A smile spread over his cheeks "Don't worry she's safe." he reasurred "For now, providing you listen" The peachfuzz on her back stood high as he grinned at her "Now be a good little thing and clean this up for us, Sebby and I have got some important work to tend to" Maisie blinked wildely at Moriarty receving a harsh pinch of the bicep from Sebastian. A warning to listen. To obey. That Moriarty's work was not merely weak, unfufilled threats. With stiff legs, Maisie stood looking around the kitchen wildly until her eyes met the sink, stacks of used mugs, plates and pans tormented her. She wasn't just a captive, she was going to be used by them. Might as well, kill two birds with one stone. Sebastian's toothy grin, the same one he'd had as Lee, couldn't be unnoticed as Maisie took his plate, then Moriarty's. "Good girl" Sebastian barked at her, chuckling to himself. Maisie stiffened her back as she walked towards the sink. Her hands running under scalding water, she hadn't noticed how hot it was until her hands turned red raw. The pair of men mused amongst themselves for a moment, Sebastian watching Maisie lazily as he sipped at his lukewarm black coffee. Bitter, just like him. Everdently, it wasn't that important. There conversation blended in with the sound of running water, her hand rummaging in the sink for the plug to let some water out.
Her fingers delicately wrapped around something wooden, a handle, and she pulled it out slowly.
A knife.
Gripping it with a tremendous amount of courage, she turned to the men holding it out. Her hands trembled, eyes locked on them, the blade catching the late morning light—small, but real. Both men stopped laughing, and Sebastian immediately stood, shoving the chair halfway across the kitchen floor with a loud scrape against the cracked terracotta tiles.