Darkness Ignites Desires

10

LILIANA

If glares were lasers, they'd be burning holes through this man's arrogant head. His haughty stare as he shackles me to the window like a captive animal works to fuel my anger.

My jaw locks hard with efforts to contain how much I want to bruise the stupid smirk off his face again.

So what if he's not wrong about the escape part?

I'm frustrated.

No, deeply distressed would be the word. The amount of disrespect I have tolerated from these people has gone beyond my tolerance level.

For hours, I have been left in the dark about my alleged crime; the reason I got kidnapped in the first place.

I'm being held without explanation and the only question posed concerns Kyle's whereabouts.

I have even started to doubt the transparency between my late husband and me.

A fleeting thought creeps in, searing itself in the back of my head that I might just be a mere pawn in the greater scheme of things.

I shake my head in denial.

My captor is a liar as much as he's a terrible person. Kyle would never keep anything away from me.

He loved me too much to hoard a secret that would later put me in such a mess.

Shame overwhelms me at the thought. If Kyle's ghost is witnessing all of this, he would be disappointed in me for thinking so lowly of him.

I slump against the headboard wearily, taking great care to not strain my wrist in the process. The cuffs restrict me even further.

“Motherfuck.” I curse lowly as I readjust my body.

There is the comfort of the bed and yet I can't lay freely on it without my wrist bearing the brunt of my weight.

This is just torture.

Maybe staying bound in the basement would have been a better option.

“Duska,” The woman, Alice, comes to a stop in front of me. “You see what happens when you try to provoke him. If you have the answers he needs. Once you tell him, he'll let you go.” She encourages me in a warm voice that does nothing to soothe my growing anxiety.

I eye her warily, refusing to believe such a poorly woven fallacy. “Really?”

Her gaze flickers away from mine. I read the hesitation in her entire gait. “Well… not exactly.” Then she hastily tacks on, “You could be different. You don't look like you can hurt a fly.”

“If that were to be the case, tell me why I'm seated here with all of you, cuffed to the window like an animal?”

“That's enough socialising, Alice. You're not to interact with the prisoner.” Says the man who pointed a gun at my back earlier.

I flip him a bird and the thrill of being able to do it at will makes me grin so hard.

Alice kisses her teeth at him and turns back to me. “Forget about that big dumbo. I'll have your lunch ready. Now, don't make things difficult for him.”

Why are you being nice to me, I'm tempted to ask. I swallow those words and say instead, “As if.”

She flashes me a quick smile and then spins around to approach the door. The men have their eyes trained on me, scared that I'd make a risky move.

I laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“I only need one person in this room and that would be Sydney. The rest of you can go back to your duties.” She instructs, shooing the others while the one called Sydney remains.

The door closes, leaving both of us alone.

I withdraw my gaze to the window. It is a view of men in dark attires, characterized by mean frowns and shades. Each of them is planted in different areas of the house to keep guard.

At least they have the freedom to mobility, I muse when I compare my situation.

My free hand slips to the waistband of my trousers to feel for a tiny piece of metal.

It is still intact. Soon.

Indeed when danger rears its ugly head, one would become an expert in areas one didn't dare to dream of.

While Jerk Face leaned close to slap the cuffs on my wrist, the key slipped and landed on my thighs. Thankfully, no one else had noticed.

As long as I didn't cause trouble, there would be an opportunity to release the cuffs and be free.

It could be tonight or tomorrow. Either way, I am prepared.

There is the tiniest bit of relief in knowing freedom is within grasp. I take a few minutes to revel in it.

I chance a glance at Hulk. He is settled in one of the sofas with a permanent scowl etched into his face. Now and then, our eyes would meet and while I held my stare, he'd look away with a huff.

Such a princess.

A yawn slips out of me, blurring my vision of him.

I struggle to keep my eyes open as fatigue consumes me. But as I rest my head against the headboard to surrender to sleep, a deafening explosion rattles the house.

I jolt awake instantly with a racing heart. Underneath my feet, I feel the tremors of the house trembling.

Sydney leaps up on his feet in an instant. There is worry etched into his face as he pauses to listen.

"What's happening?" I ask him with wide eyes and fear wrapping its icy fingers around my throat.

His eyes meet mine as he signals for silence, gun drawn and ready.

“One wrong move and you're a goner. Stay put.” In a mad dash, he exits the room. The door is left ajar, the chance of an escape presenting itself before me.

“Hey!” I yell after him. “What kind of i***t tells someone to stay put when there is trouble brewing? Hey!”

But I doubt he even heard my protests.

I hear footsteps pounding throughout the house, and panicked voices yelling.

A fresh surge of fear grips me and like a descending storm cloud, panic sets in.

“There's no way I'm dying here.”

I slip my fingers into my waistband to retrieve the key I had kept in store for an opportunity.

I didn't know it'd come to me on a platter.

My heart pounds so loud that I hear it in my ears very clearly. My fingers tremble with anxiety but the stupid cuff remains locked tight.

"God, please!" I pray fervently hoping he could hear me in my distress. Sweat drips down the side of my face onto the front of my shirt.

If I'm caught for the second time, there's no telling what my captor would do to me.

The sound of chaos comes and goes, swirling about the house like the building crescendo of orchestral music.

However, in this case, no note indicates an end to this terror.

Every rising scream, every heavy thud, every sound of shattering glass brings me nearer to a danger I never dreamt I would be a part of.

The hair on the back of my neck stands erect as my fingers work feverishly to free myself but to no avail.

Grim reality sets in right then.

Another blast rocks the house. This time I feel the impact heavily as it slams my head against the headboard and sends my body flying against a wall.

Pain ricochets through the core of my being and my body bows to the pressure. The loud noise rings aloud like a neverending echo in my head.

For a few seconds, I lay there disoriented as debris rains down on me.

I regain consciousness with a dry cough hacking at the base of my throat.

The sights that herald my coming are the shattered window and the pain that burns in my wrist. The force of the explosion might have caused my hand to forcefully slip out of the cuffs.

My thumb looks broken too.

Great! Just fantastic!

I start towards the hallway, stumbling and tripping over shattered glass. The entire place is swarming in a cloud of dust so thick that I can barely make out the way forward.

I look down to see a paralyzed house help next to my feet, with eyes pleading. "Enemies... of the don." They gasp.

I don't care about that piece of information. All I want is to get out of this hellhole. "Where's the exit?" I beg in desperation.

"Down... hallway... Left…” Their voice starts to fade. “help me."

I bite my lips with indecision before quickly changing into the dress of the house help, discarding mine.

"I'm sorry, I can't." I apologize as guilt fills me. "Forgive me."

Survival instincts have overridden emotions.

My nose catches the smell of fire and I dash out, dodging crumbling walls and leaping over debris.

I stop to watch for a brief moment, filled with satisfaction as flames engulf the whole house.

Then I turn and sprint out of the half-destroyed gates, onto the street.