Page 8 of The Wolf

Poppy

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I was on the floor, my body in a heap and my scalp on fire.

The fan motor squeaked like a record spinning under a broken needle.

The floor was gritty. Granules of sand clung to my skin like sugar to a wet spoon.

My nose was pressed against the wood, and it smelled like a dirty gym bag with a hint of bleach.

Who else had been here? I wondered as my mind slowly rotated through a carousel of grief, anger, and despair.

How many other people had been in this same position? How many women had crumbled to this very floor like rotted wood sheds off a tree? How many tears had been absorbed by the floorboards, giving it the scent of dejection?

I peeked out from under my arm and watched the fan's blades as I listened to the slow precession.

My heart was beating, but not as hard or fast as before.

I was numb. Completely and soullessly numb.

My soul had gone into hiding, making me cold all over.

Every thought of escape had vanished. Depression ate away at me like maggots on a carcass.

Look where I was. Trapped. Captured. Stolen without reason. And unless someone unlocked the door to set me free, I wasn't leaving of my own volition. All of this was because I had allowed lust to blind me.

I curled my knees to my chest and hugged them tightly. What had I done to deserve this? What had I done to end up in the hands of a monster? What sick game had I been dragged into?

My lids grew heavy. I blinked longer, and slower until my eyes closed and I drifted off into unconsciousness. I had a dream while I was sleeping. The same dream that had haunted me for years. The same dream that had no ending.

* * * *

“Where are we going today?” I asked as I watched my mother.

She was curling her hair, giving a spritz of hairspray to every new curl.

When we arrived, my mother was blond, but now she had black hair.

She dyed it a few days after we arrived in Paris.

She even tried to have my hair dyed, but the woman said she wouldn't do it on a girl my age, and I had to be at least thirteen.

So, my mother had her cut my hair short instead.

I didn't like it at first, but I was getting used to it. It was way easier to brush because it didn't get as full of knots. Plus, it also stayed out of my mouth when I ate now. My mother said it made me look more sophisticated. She said we fit right in with the other locals like we belonged.

“Today, we're going to take the train to Italy,” my mother said.

“Italy?”

“Venice, to be exact.”

“But we haven't seen everything here yet,” I whined.

“Honey, we've been here for two weeks already. We need to keep moving.” She glanced over at me and smiled. “Why don't you go pack your bag, and we'll leave when I'm all done with my hair.”

“Okay,” I said, my voice low.

“You sound sad. Aren't you excited for another adventure? We're taking a train. Doesn't that sound fun?”

“I guess.”

She set her curling iron on the bathroom vanity, then dropped down in front of me. Gripping both my arms, she ran her thumbs up and down as she said, “This is our adventure, Poppy. Our grand adventure. Let's make the best of it and see as much of the world as we can. What do you say?”

“Okay,” I spoke evenly and uninterested. I didn't want to leave yet.

I really loved the smell of the freshly baked pastries and all the little shops and cafes. The streets were always filled with people, and the buildings looked older than the oldest church back home.

“We can ride the gondolas. In Venice, there are restaurants and shops all along the river that you can boat to.”

“Really? It's a city on water?”

“Basically. Sounds cool, doesn't it?” I nodded my head. “Good. Now go pack. I'll be ready in a few minutes.”

We took the train through the Alpine foothills, across the lagoon, and into the Santa Lucia train station.

I was in awe on the train. Blossoming meadows full of white and purple flowers flashed by us like neon lights.

The tops of the mountains were covered in snow, while the base was brimming with thick green trees. It was incredible.

When we arrived in Venice, I was surprised to see there were no cars. Not a single one. We walked along the streets made of gray brick. My shoes clicked like heels on tile. The houses were all stacked together tightly, with a sliver of space between them like slices of a loaf of bread flopped open.

We stopped at the edge in front of the water. I pinched one eye shut and looked through my hands. I tried to push the slices of houses back together in my mind. It didn't work, but it made me smile.

“Come on, Poppy,” my mother said.

I glanced over at her. She had her hand out to help me climb into the thin, long boat. My mother began speaking Italian with such fluency to the gondolier I was in awe. He nodded and smiled, then said something back.

“Grazie,” she said.

“Mom, I didn't know you could speak Italian.”

“There's a lot you don't know about me, Honey. I lived a whole other life before you came along.”

“Does dad know?”

“No, Honey. I had a life before your father, too. Sometimes, there are certain things you keep just for yourself, like knowing Italian.”

“Can you teach me?”

“Of course I can. And I will. I'm going to teach you a lot on this adventure.” She wrapped her arm around my shoulders and pulled me in. “We're starting over, Honey. It's time for us to truly live like we were meant to.”

I didn't know what she meant by that. I was so overwhelmed with all the sites around me that I barely paid attention to what she was saying. The excitement flowed through me like rain flowed down smooth glass. It was perfect. Everything was perfect.

My father would go away for work for days, weeks, and sometimes months. He'd travel and leave us at home because my mother was usually sick. Some days, it was hard for her to get out of bed. She would sleep all day and only get up to take her medication or stare out a window.

Dad would say the world was poison to my mother, but at home, he could keep her safe. As for me, my father said his trips weren't for little girls.

Being in Venice, traveling with my mother, who was smiling and laughing, and seeing all the beauty around me, I couldn't help but wonder why he would want to keep all of this from us.

I began to resent him for keeping me locked in our home.

I began to resent him for saying my mother was too sick to do anything. She looked perfectly fine right then.

Not once did she complain about having a headache or any pain in her body.

My mother hadn't talked to herself once since we left home.

She moved smoothly, her steps firm and confident.

Her cheeks were as pink as cotton candy.

Her skin was the color of ripe peaches and not the pasty white I was used to seeing.

Even her eyes had a glow that radiated like the sun cresting the horizon in the morning.

The dull, fogginess I had seen so many times before had disappeared.

What changed?

My mother held my hand as we climbed out of the gondola and walked to a little restaurant called Grande Zucca.

There were a few wooden-topped tables outside under a brown awning.

The menu had a pumpkin on the front, which made me think of Cinderella.

Except in my story, an evil stepfather was keeping me locked away, not a stepmother.

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay now?”

“Of course I'm okay. Why do you ask, Honey?”

I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at my plate. As I poked at my food, I softly said, “Because you were sick before and now you seem better.”

“That's because I am better, Poppy. People get sick, and then they get better. You've been sick before, right?” I nodded yes. “And now you're better, right?” I nodded again. “See. So, there's nothing to worry about.”

“What about your medicine? I haven't seen you take it at all. Do you not need it anymore?” I asked.

“Look, Poppy, life is going to be much better now. I'm perfectly healthy, and I don't want you to worry about me anymore. Now, eat your food. We have some shopping to do.”

We spent the day going from shop to shop. I tried on dresses and big, fancy hats. My mother found a beautiful yellow silk scarf. She wrapped it around her head, making her look like Audrey Hepburn.

It was late when we got back to the hotel. My belly was full from dinner, and I was tired. My mother tucked me in the bed, kissed my forehead, and told me to get some sleep because she had a surprise for me for tomorrow. She wouldn't tell me what it was even though I asked a dozen times.

I remember her sitting in the chair by the window, drinking a glass of wine as she looked out over the canal.

I was half asleep. My eyes kept blinking longer and longer as sleep stole me away.

I was happy. It was the only time I remember being truly happy.

My mother was right. We were on the most incredible trip of our lives.

One day, I would look back and remember our adventure.

BANG!

* * * *

I shot up straight. Sweat poured down my temples, and my heart beat like a rabid, caged animal. My eyes darted around the room. The fan was still rotating at a dying speed, doing nothing to circulate the stuffy air. I raked my fingers through my hair as I exhaled.

That fucking dream. I hate that fucking dream.

“I thought you were going to sleep for days,” a man's voice said from behind me.

I whipped around to see a figure sitting on the stool in the corner. The man leaned forward, resting his elbows on the top of his knees as he glared at me.

“You,” I said.

“Me.” The man gave me a playful smirk, but it felt more devilish than anything else.

It was the stranger from the bar. He wasn't in his suit anymore. The man wore a fitted navy blue shirt with jeans and black boots. His hair was messy, unlike the nicely combed and manicured look at the gala.

His eyes were dark as he peered at me from across the room, but he said nothing more. No explanation. No, “I'm sorry. I made a mistake.” No, “I fucked up. Let me take you home.” He said nothing.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I'm not doing anything.” He opened and closed his hands casually with a smug look. “I was just sitting here waiting on sleeping beauty to wake up.”

“Don't be a fucking asshole. You know what I'm talking about. You kidnapped me. I don't think most people would call that nothing.” I pushed myself up off the floor.

“I'm not most people,” he said.

“I want to go home.” I walked to the door and pointed. “Open this damn door and let me out now,” I demanded.

“I'm sorry, but I can't do that.”

“Yes, you can, and you will. Let me out of here.”

“I can't.”

“This is fucking bullshit.” I stormed over to him, my back straight as an arrow. “I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, but I don't want any part of it. If you think I'm going to let you fuck me—”

“Don't be so full of yourself. I didn't bring you here to fuck you. I wouldn't need to kidnap you for that. I had my fingers inside you less than an hour after meeting you. I wouldn't need to be this extravagant to fuck you.”

“That doesn't mean shit. I'm not that easy.”

“Trust me, you wouldn't have denied me.”

“Who's full of themselves now?” I asked.

“Listen, Red, this isn't a game. I'm not toying with you. You're here because you need to be here. Understand?”

“Maybe I didn't make myself clear enough. Let me go right now, and I'll make sure my father goes easy on you.”

He chuckled as he pointed up at me. “I didn't know you had such a sense of humor.”

“I'm not joking with you. Do you have any idea who my father is? He's important. He knows people. And when he finds out you kidnapped me, he's going to have you put behind bars for the rest of your life.”

“That's not how this is going to go. I'm not sure you noticed, but you're not the one in control right now. I am.”

“He's going to come looking for me. My father is going to have everyone hunting you down like the beast you are.”

“Sit down,” he said. “And let me explain exactly how this is going to go.”

“No! I won't sit down! I said let me go!” My voice was shrill as I screamed. I threw my arms up and yelled, “Let me the fuck out of this place!”

He jumped from his seat, grabbed me by the arms, and pushed me backward.

“Sit the fuck down,” he commanded as he forced me onto the cot.

“You're not going anywhere. I'm in charge.

I'm the one who tells you what's going to happen.

And right now, I'm telling you that you're stuck right where you are whether you like it or not.” His lips snarled into an angry frown as his eyes turned to slits. “Nothing is going to change that.”

“Why are you doing this? Just tell me that. Tell me why you're doing this to me. What do you want from me?”

“This might come as a surprise to you, Red, but the world is a dangerous place.

There are bad people out there doing bad things.

And sometimes, your luck runs out. Cross paths with the wrong person, and that bad finds you.

You can't buy your way out of this. Your money means nothing here.” He turned and started for the door.

Why is he doing this?

I couldn't understand why he picked me. Why was I the one he wanted to hurt? What had I done to him? Plenty of women were at the event; why did he have to choose me?

“Tell me why you're doing this.”

He arched a brow and shook his head. “You still don't understand that you're not in charge, do you? This isn't the Red Riding Hood Show.” The man looked down at my tattered red dress with a grin.

He reached out to grab the doorknob, so I quickly said, “I still don't know your name.” I wanted something from him. Anything. Any information would be useful, but the least he could do was give me his name. Shit, he had his fingers knuckle deep inside my pussy, and I still didn't know who he was.

“My name's Vega Lobos, but people just call me El Lobo.”

“El Lobo? What the hell does that mean?” I asked.

He smiled and said, “The Wolf.”