The Cruel King

We were in a party just like any other. He likes to take me in these parties, he likes it when I accompany him in the events like these. He likes it when he show the world that I'm his, that I belong to him. He buys me new dresses for every occasion. I don't even remember the last time I picked one out for myself. This time, I wore a turquoise dress, with a slit up the side, backless, held together by a single string running across my back in a zigzag pattern. I don't know how to tie it myself, so Hayden always helps. He knows how to do everything-he's even learned how to tie traditional dresses like kimonos and sarees. But it's not because he's romantic or cares about the culture. No, it's because he doesn't want anyone else touching me. He says only he can dress me, only he can undress me. I don't know what's worse-the fact that he's possessive or the fact that I'm so used to it now that it doesn't even surprise me. He stood behind me, fixing the back string of my dress. I didn't say anything, just stared at the floor. It's not like I could say anything, even if I wanted to. I didn't want to go to the party, I didn't want to be with him. Sometimes, I wonder if anything in my life is really my choice anymore. Maybe it hasn't been for a long time. "It's almost done, baby," he murmured as his fingers moved with practiced precision, pulling the string tighter, his lips brushing against my skin. I didn't respond, couldn't respond. What was there to say? It's been seven months since I disappeared from the world. Hayden calls it "Heaven"-our home. He says it's because we've created something special, just for us. It's beautiful, of course-luxurious and grand, with everything you could ever want. But it's not home. I don't feel at home here. It's just a mansion, a big empty space. In this house, it's just ms lily, a 56 yrs old, house helper, who makes me feel warm and homely. She's the housekeeper, a warm woman who's been here since Hayden was a teen. When Hayden's not around, I go to her room sometimes. I'll curl up on her lap, and sometimes, when I can't hold it in, I'll cry. She always tells me that one day, I'll love Hayden like he loves me. She says it with such kindness, but I don't think she understands. How could I love someone who's taken so much from me? She was the one who pointed out the meaning of "Heaven" one day. She smiled gently and said, "It's not just the name of your house, dear. It's like your names are mixed together-Evelyn and Hayden-" her voice soft and knowing, but it only made the name seem even more suffocating to me. "Heaven," she had said, and I had to choke down the knot in my throat. It's not heaven to me. It's a cage. We haven't been intimate yet. He says I'm not ready, but the truth is, I don't think I ever will be. How could I be? I don't even want to be here, in this life, with him. But I can't tell him that. I can't tell him how trapped I feel, how every day feels like a prison. At the party, I stood next to one of Hayden's friends' wives. She was talking about her club, about the people she knew. Honestly, I wasn't listening-my mind was somewhere else. I just wanted to get away, to find a quiet corner and pretend I wasn't here. When she was called away, I felt a small relief. I walked outside, toward the balcony. The air was cool, and the night sky was beautiful. I've always loved the sky, especially in Florida. The stars were so bright there, and the breeze always felt so free. LA's sky is nice, but it doesn't compare to Florida's. Florida was home. Florida was freedom. I was looking at the sky when one guy came and introduced himself to me, I looked around for Hayden because if he saw any guy talking to me I'm sure he'll show his cruel side. "Hi, I'm Charles," he said, his voice too friendly, too eager. "Hello, I'm Evelyn," I muttered, barely making eye contact, unsure of what to say. I couldn't understand why he was talking to me. Was he trying to be kind? Or was he just another one of those people who thought they could just talk to me without knowing anything about my life? "Nice to meet you," he said. He smiled at me, but it didn't reach his eyes, and I felt my skin crawl. "I know what's happening to you, Evelyn," he said, his voice quiet but urgent. "I feel so bad for you. You don't deserve this. You don't deserve him." I looked at him, confused, my heart starting to race. He could see it. He could see that I was trapped. But who was he? How did he know? "I can help you escape," he continued. "I can get you out of here, away from him. I'll take you wherever you want to go. You'll never have to see him again." My mind screamed at me to run, to get away from this stranger. But there was a part of me, a desperate part, that clung to his words, the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could get me out of this hell. "How?" I whispered, scared to even ask. He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I'll pick you up in two days. Hayden will be gone, at a meeting. You can leave through the back door, and I'll be waiting. Just get in the van, and you'll be free." I shook my head, trying to convince myself that it wasn't possible, that I couldn't trust him. But the thought of freedom, of escaping, was too powerful. "You can trust me," he said quickly, sensing my hesitation. "I swear, you'll be free. You just have to take the chance." I looked at him for a moment, my heart hammering in my chest. "is it possible?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. He nodded. "Yes. Just trust me." I opened my mouth to say something else, but just then, a voice called out to me. "Miss Evelyn, sir Lopez is looking for you." I quickly turned away, not giving Charles another glance. I had to go back, had to pretend everything was fine. But in my heart, I couldn't stop the small flicker of hope. I went back inside. Hayden's eyes found me immediately. He took my hand, squeezing it too tightly, entwining our fingers. I didn't meet his gaze, just looked down at the floor. "You guys look beautiful," someone complimented us as we passed. Hayden smiled, his pride obvious. "We do," he said, looking at me with a possessive grin. I forced a smile, barely even feeling it. Back at "Heaven," we went to our room. Hayden pulled me close, pressing me against his chest, his lips brushing my ear. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his hands roaming over my waist. I didn't resist as he turned me in his arms and kissed me, his mouth hot and demanding. Before I could process what was happening, the string of my dress was in his hands, tugging it loose. The fabric fell to the floor, and I shivered as the cool air touched my bare skin. He kissed me again, and I didn't pull away. What was the point? I had given up so much already. I wondered if anyone was looking for me, if anyone even remembered who I was. But when I closed my eyes, I only saw the future-one where I was still trapped, still his. A tear slipped from my eye, and I didn't try to hide it.