Page 11 of In You

Shattered

Tamryn

I head out of the humid bathroom, so relieved to finally be clean that I no longer feel the sting of shame from the dark haired man calling me out in front of the Captor and Joseph anymore.

I touch my hair absentmindedly, still in its updo as I didn't dare spend a second longer than was necessary in there, having already taken too long considering I had to work around my cast, but I feel so much better.

It's going to be so worth the beating you're going to receive when his guests leave.

The relief of the shower fades away as anticipation of the night ahead sinks bone deep, causing my eyes to well with tears and my brain to glitch.

Veering off to the kitchen first, I refresh myself with a glass of water from the faucet and stare out the window above the sink.

The edges of the pane are slightly frosted from the chill of the night, and beyond this, I glance longingly at the orange glow of the nearby neighbor's lamp post lit up in the distance.

A tall fence separates our backyards, showing me nothing but our landscaping, and the very top of the house in the distance, but I raise my hand in a wave, imagining that there's another woman on the other side who's friendly.

A woman who will be my friend, and someone I can share a nightcap with while we admire our flowers and complain about our significant others.

We'd laugh, give each other a hug before going inside, bolstered enough to be able to get through another night and day before we meet up at the fence again for gossip against the backdrop of the setting sun, and the pretty glow of the lamps.

I blink, suddenly just now realizing the absence of male voices.

My arms break out in goosebumps, and my hair stands on end as I glance nervously over my shoulder, feeling like I'm being watched.

My eyes go up to the tiny black camera in the corner of the kitchen, and I realize I probably very much am being watched this very second.

Like I always am. The Captor always has his eyes on me.

I listen hard, still hearing no voices.

I clear my throat, realizing that he probably asked the men to leave after being so rudely called out about my stench at dinner by the dark haired Englishman- Lance, I think his name was.

Perspiration breaks out across my face, and I nervously walk to the refrigerator and pull out the chocolate cake I'd made for dessert, thinking something sweet might work as a buffer and keep me from being beaten tonight.

Grabbing it carefully, I hold it close as I push through the door leading to the dining room and freeze. My eyes go wide at the sight of the Captor and Joseph laying facedown on the table in a big pool of blood. Dead.

I think.

No. They're most definitely dead.

My breath hitches as I clutch the stem of the glass cake holder in my fingers so hard they go numb.

I tremble, not sure what to do, or what's going on.

I'm so scared I think I'd be peeing myself if I hadn't just gotten to use the restroom.

But I still feel warm down there, ironically. I feel warm everywhere, actually.

My eyes flicker as stunned tears fall down my face as I freeze in fear, but then something dawns on me…

The dark haired man is gone.

I think he is, anyway. My eyes slide to where he was sitting, seeing the walnut chair knocked askew.

The breath escapes my throat in high pitched gasps and I force myself to take two more steps into the dining room.

Just enough so I can see the floor on the other side of the table in case he’s lying dead on the floor out of sight, and the killer still may be lurking to take me out.

He's not.

My teeth begin to chatter as fear and disbelief flood my system, both emotions at war with one another. However, despite a clear adrenaline rush, my body refuses to unlock enough for me to do anything. I don't even know what's happening. Am I being saved?

Am I about to be killed?

Oh my God, did you just spend the last year of your life being tortured just to die anyways?

The blood turns to ice in my veins as terror works to freeze me solid. I can't move, can barely think as my ears strain for any hint of movement or my imminent death.

Yet, for better or worse, I don't have to wait for long.

A movement on the other side of the room catches my eye and I turn my head sharply, still shaking as the dark haired man walks slowly into the room via the other entrance.

The one I need to use to get away as it's the closest exit to the front door.

I try to unclench my teeth to say something - anything, but I can't.

He puts a finger to his lips and takes a slow step towards me, his head tilted down, and his brow pulled low and his gleaming dark eyes.

My panic swells to mix with adrenaline, and the gasps come faster, torn from my aching throat as he slowly comes closer and closer.

Self-preservation and sheer terror makes me take a step back, then another one, until my back hits the closed door behind me.

The door that only swings forward into the dining room, not the other way. I'm trapped.

When he's about five feet away he opens his mouth.

"Camilla, where's Cunty?" he says in a soft tone that does nothing to disguise the warning in his voice, but my fingers unclench on the cake stand sending it tumbling from my grip to splatter on the floor, and there's a sudden, jarring screaming in my ear so powerful I jump.

It's coming from me.

"My name is Tamryn! My name is Tamryn! My name is Tamryn! My name is Tamryn! My name is Tamryn! My name is Tamryn! My name is Tamryn!"

I yelp and drop the cake when he strides forward purposefully and slaps me clear across the face so hard my head knocks against the door behind me.

My face contorts as the pain explodes through my face, and I choke on my scream.

However, his goal was accomplished; I come back to myself, emboldened by a solitary molecule of hope that this man is saving me.

Despite the fact I'm barefoot standing in cake, and utterly terrified out of my mind, I lunge at him in a bid of self-preservation I could never muster up with Calvin.

However, it's less than graceful as I slip in the cake and fall into him, wrapping my left hand into his shirt. Not even flinching as his muscular arms pull me to him. Our eyes lock, and I shiver, praying to any God that'll listen to let this man be a beacon of hope for me. Please.

Tell him.

"Please don't k-kill me. You saved me from him!" I beg, pleading for my life. "Please, I need to go to the police, Calvin has kept me here for a year-"

He moves quickly, and at the look on his face I stop talking as a funny sensation slides across my skin and makes my eyelids heavy. I blink once as my head lolls to the side when the dark haired man becomes men who begin to swim in my vision, and then the next thing I know, everything goes black.

I can't stand drugs, though some pain medicine for my broken hand would have been nice. So, when I wake up sometime later, wrapped up in a red and black checkered fleece blanket, in the living room of a house I'd never been in before, I freak out at the stuffy, tight feeling in my head.

I whine, putting my fingers to my head and closing my eyes against the glare of the lights. When I open them back, everything blurs before coming back into focus. I sniff and turn my head, looking straight into the eyes of a white haired poodle with a pink bow and a bloodhound.

My jaw drops I'm so shocked.

I've never owned a dog before, and while the poodle looks harmless, the bloodhound gives me pause. If I scream and scare him, he might bite me. My bladder screams at me for relief, and my broken hand still throbs, so I must not have been out too long.

I fight with the cover to free myself. Adrenaline courses through me, and I can see that where I'd thought the lights were bright before, they're really not. They're soft and warm, giving the place a gentle feel.

"Don't move too much," a deep voice sounds out, startling me. "You need to give yourself a minute longer to come out of it."

Scared, I tuck myself back into the blanket, nestling deep against the back of the couch as the dark haired man comes into focus.

He sits relaxed in a leather chair opposite where I sit, with a crystal glass of what looks to be maybe whiskey clutched in his hand.

It's a small amount, letting me know he'd been drinking.

His eyes look tired, his five o'clock shadow is thicker across the angle of his jaw, and his dark eyes bore into mine so intensely that I work to wiggle deeper into the couch.

I stare, my heart beating in my chest so hard that it's a wonder he doesn't hear it. I'm confident the dogs do, though.

"Who are you?" I ask in a shaky voice.

"My name is Caleb."

My mind races, because I'm pretty sure I remember him being introduced as Lance. "I thought your name was…w-was Lance," I stammer.

"No, my name is Caleb." When I stare silently, he tilts his head. "And your name is Camilla."

I don't know where the nerve comes from, but it comes from deep down inside. "My fucking name is Tamryn," I spit out, shocking myself.

He smiles nice and slow, causing my heart to flutter for a different reason other than fear.

"I thought so," he says in a calm voice.

"Tamryn Saunders, you disappeared a year ago.

Former medical coder for St. Lukes hospital, lived in a one bedroom apartment, your mother passed on Father's day a year and three months ago.

No father on your birth certificate. A woman vulnerable with no family to look for her. An easy target. A victim."

How dare he?

My lips tremble. "Don't call me that," I bite out. "Don't you fucking call me a-"

"A victim?" He tilts his head, piercing me with his dark brown eyes. "Tamryn, you're going to have to face what happened head on. It's the only way you're going to get through it."