Her name was Chloe E-Book

Michaela A. Mann

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 312

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Two worlds. Two women. One hunter. He caught her, broke her. Over and over again. To him, she was just a toy. A pastime. An experiment. To her, however, he was everything. Her life and expecially her death. He was her world. He was the evil that presecuted her, that held her captive and broke her. Chloe was more dead than alive when she escaped him. But did she really escape him?

Leseprobe

Michaela A. Mann

Her name was

Chloe

© 2022 Michaela A. Mann

Translation: © Michaela A. Mann

Cover design: © Michaela A. Mann

Cover image: © Marina Vitale

Based on: Ihr Name war Chloe, © 2022 Michaela A. Mann, printed and published by Books on Demand, Norderstedt, Germany

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means without the prior permission of the author. 

Published by: Books on Demand, Norderstedt, GermanyISBN: 978-3-7568-8560-2

If you remember me

than I don't care

if everyone else forgets.

Haruki Murakami

Chloe

-1-

My legs hurt with every step. Feet by feet I fought my way forward. I was breathing fast and yet I felt like I couldn't breathe at all.

The alley I was in was almost completely dark. The lantern that was supposed to illuminate it only flickered brightly every few seconds before going out again.

The air was cool, but far from pleasant. The smell of urine filled my nostrils, but I kept going. I didn't care where my legs took me as long as they got me somewhere else fast enough.

A place HE could not reach.

A place where I was safe from HIM.

The darker and shadier the alleys got, the safer I felt. I had long since lost all orientation. Street by street, alley by alley, backyard by backyard. I was still running as fast as I could through this strange city. My pulse was pounding in my ears and I had to pull myself together so that my loud, panting breath didn't immediately give away my position. I wasn't used to moving. I had been imprisoned for too long. My muscles were withered. My body weak.

I hurriedly looked over my shoulder out of fear that HE was following me. Of fear that HE would find me.

Nothing.

No one seemed to be following me, but I kept going.

I couldn't take a break.

Hope was a weakness.

Hope was something I couldn't afford.

Couldn't allow.

I had to go because sooner or later HE would find me. It was only a matter of time.

It was inevitable.

HE was inevitable.

Again, I reached the end of an alley and looked around frantically. Although it must have been the middle of the night, dozens of people were still out. Engine noise reached me from all directions. Drunken people wandering the streets. Dogs being walked barking loudly.

The streets were busy no matter how far I strayed from the city centre, so I avoided them. I limited myself to the narrow, dark alleys that most people overlooked. Alleys that looked spooky even in daylight and that were better avoided.

Alleys that were made for me. I didn't find them spooky or dangerous and the stench could be ignored.

For me, they were just hideouts.

Hideouts that would make it difficult for HIM to find me.

Just a few steps and complete darkness swallowed me. I welcomed it because it was my only cover. My only protection.

HE was near.

I could feel it.

My breath sounded unspeakably loud in this narrow alley. I kept running because I knew HE would find me at any moment.

I slowly recognized the end of the alley. The street beyond was dimly lit. On the right, a few yards away, was a lantern with an orange light. I quickly rushed in the opposite direction. Into the shadows. Away from the light.

Suddenly it felt like I was running into a wall. The air was pressed out of my lungs and I made a choked sound. An arm wrapped roughly around my waist. A moment later my arms were twisted behind my back until it was almost anatomically impossible without breaking a bone.

I was caught in a single second.

It happened so fast that I could hardly react and even if I did, I had long since given up screaming for help. I knew that nobody would help me. No matter how long - no matter how loud I screamed.

The man held me. Skin dark as the night. His eyes were black and hard to see in the dark.

No reason to fear him.

He wasn't HE.

Relief washed over me, but only for a brief moment. I was on the run. I couldn't stop, otherwise HE would find me.

I looked at the man helplessly, not daring to make a sound. The fear of HIM and that HE would hear me was too great.

The stranger eyed me in turn. He didn't ask a question, as if sensing that something was wrong. His grip, which nearly broke my arm, softened a little. He was about a head taller than me and held me tight with no problem at all. His shoulders were broad and his arms muscular. I made no attempt to free myself, for it would have been useless anyway. I still needed my strength.

I gulped and got ready. Time was pressing. "Please," I murmured as quietly as I could. It was little more than the mere movement of my lips. "Let me go," I demanded weakly, amazed at the sound of my own voice. Weak and thin. How long has it been since I last heard it? When did I stop speaking?

"What do you want in my territory?" the man replied, just as quietly.

I was grateful that he whispered and didn't draw undue attention and yet … I was disappointed. Didn't he see me? Didn't he see that I needed help? That I was on the run?

We stood at the entrance of a narrow alley. I could see more men behind him. They were dressed in dark clothing, some taller, some shorter. It seemed like they were loitering in front of a door. An entrance. A hideout. Two of them looked over at us in silence.

The echo of footsteps a few yards away made me wince. I recognized them. Knew the steps.

That were HIS steps.

HE was very close.

I had known it and yet a cold shiver ran down my spine.

There was no escape.

Hope was a weakness.

"Let go of me," I demanded again, but I didn't expect the strange man to listen to me and do as I ask. HE did never let go of me either. I braced myself for what was to come.

That HE would come.

HIS footsteps came closer and closer, as if HE knew exactly where I was.

HE knew me and HE would find me, there was no doubt about that.

I squirmed, but my twisted arm barely allowed a movement. The man was still holding my waist. Not strong enough to choke me, but I couldn't free myself. It was a useless waste of time, so I slumped, fully letting this stranger hold me, and lifted my feet off the ground.

The man held me with no problem, as if I was nothing more than a nuisance, but he seemed to understand what I wanted and lowered me to the floor. I immediately slipped behind the man's feet and silently begged him to be quiet while he was still holding my wrist.

He had to see HIM already.

My heart was pounding in my throat, so loud I was afraid HE would hear.

Suddenly the man pushed me closer to the wall of the house behind us, sheltered by the shadows the night casted over this city. He didn't say a word, as if understanding that I was hiding from these steps.

I crouched on the floor for endless seconds. The stench of urine and decay burned my throat, but I'd seen worse.

Far worse.

I couldn't see HIM, but I heard HIS footsteps passing us without any hesitation.

I didn't dare to move. Didn't dare to breathe.

Only long after all sounds had died away did the man stir. He backed away and pulled me to my feet powerfully.

My muscles hurt.

He looked at me for a long time and I looked into his dark, mysterious eyes in turn.

This man had protected me.

Why?

What did he get out of it?

Did he feel sorry for me?

"Go away," he finally whispered to me, looking at me, finally releasing my wrist. His deep voice vibrated in the air.

I didn't want to go.

This man had protected me even though I hadn't asked him to.

He had helped me.

I was still staring at him. Looked into his eyes. Hoped he saw me. Hoped he would change his mind so that I could stay with him.

Hoped…

… and forced myself to go.

I turned and edged back into the darkness of the alley. My legs carried me, even if every step hurt. Both mentally and physically.

Hope was a weakness.

Such an incredible weakness.

I was angry at myself for hoping. That I had allowed hope. I thought I was in control of my emotions, but this stranger … This man messed everything up.

I felt like crying, but I didn't have the strength for tears and my voice was much too weak to scream.

I longed for a break, but I couldn't afford it. I didn't know how much time I had left. How long my freedom lasted. How much longer I could hide from HIM.

HE was the hunter and I was his prey.

HE would find me.

I shouldn't have escaped...

No!

I would do it again and again!

I wouldn't give up!

Never!

As soon as I turned the next corner, I saw flashing lights in blue and red. They coloured whole streets and walls and made the night shine. It took me a moment to notice the dark spot at the bottom of the wall as graffiti. It was almost impossible to decipher and reminded me of a giant spider hanging on the wall. Always on the lookout. Always on the hunt.

I slowly approached the lights and shortly thereafter spotted a car.

The police.

Help.

Maybe this was my chance.

Maybe that's how I would escape.

The uniformed figures spotted me immediately. "Is that her?" one of them asked.

They were looking for me?

Why? Why were they looking for me?

I stopped hesitantly.

A moment ago, I'd been happy to see those blinking lights, hoping for help, but now I got a bad feeling.

Hope was a weakness.

How could I have thought I could escape HIM? How could I have been so stupid?

It was a trap.

It was HIS trap.

And I walked right in.

-2-

"Thank you for finding my niece," HE said. The fake tone in HIS voice was hard to miss, but the policeman standing on the other side of the counter didn't care.

Caught.

I wasn't found.

I got caught.

The policeman just nodded as if he'd heard that tune dozens of times before. He was old, close to retirement. His beard was grey. His skin greasy. He wanted to finish his shift, that was all he seemed interested in.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that she's safe again. If something had happened to her …"

"Chicago is a dangerous place," the cop commented, bored, putting down a piece of paper.

"It will not happen again."

"Good," was all the policeman said. "The paperwork is done so far. You may go."

"Thank you very much. Goodbye." Then HE turned and looked at me.

Looked straight at me.

And my blood froze in my veins.

HE looked unimpressive. For others. When HE tried to hide the madness behind a nice facade. Behind his solid coloured shirts, neat hair and average appearance. Not too perfect, but that is also what HE intended.

HE looked like everyone else.

But HIS eyes …

HIS eyes wanted to kill me.

I didn't feel anything, I wasn't allowed to. It was only a matter of time before HE would punish me and this time HE wasn't going to let me off so easily.

I got up without a word and walked out the door with HIM like everything was perfectly normal. But it wasn't.

Not at all.

It wasn't fair.

HE didn't want me to be safe.

HE only wanted HIS prey.

Me, the mentally disturbed niece.

I almost had to laugh if I hadn't forgotten how to years ago.

Why didn't anyone believe me?

Why didn't anyone want to help me?

Why didn't anyone see who HE really was?

It was still dark, but I didn't know how much longer I could see the sky above me.

"You can't escape me," HE whispered victoriously as HE unlocked the car and opened the door for me.

A young policewoman holding a coffee mug looked after us, then turned and walked into the building. HIS car was parked just a few yards from the entrance.

Nobody believed me.

Nobody would ever believe me.

The cold expression on HIS face made me sick. HE would kill me - sooner or later - and HE would enjoy it.

As soon as I sat in that car, I would die. There was no turning back. I had no doubts about that.

My escape attempt had failed and I would pay dearly for it.

I reached for the door but hesitated.

HE would kill me anyway.

All I could do was set a time and make sure that maybe - maybe - it wouldn't be so painful.

HE had HIS hand on top of the door frame. I jerked it back quickly, squeezing it shut, pinching HIS fingers.

HE cried out for a moment, but I didn't pay attention and ran.

Away.

A last desperate attempt to survive. Or to die.

HE followed me into the alley, away from the police, who didn't believe a single word I said.

It was only a few seconds before a bullet hit me. Right in my upper left arm. Pain spread through me, but I didn't stop. If it was the only price for my freedom, I'd gladly pay it. I would pay almost any price to stay alive, while not even knowing what kept me in this life in the first place. I could barely remember what it meant to be alive.

In my eyes, life meant pain.

I pressed my hand to my shoulder and kept running.

Pain meant I was still alive. I welcomed it.

Another bullet whizzed past my head and slammed into the wall next to me. HE was obviously using a silencer because the shot was barely audible.

A hunter was a hunter.

And the hunt began again.

Panting, I dragged myself deeper and deeper into this maze of alleys and streets, courtyards and parking lots.

Past beggars who ignored me.

Past prostitutes who closed their eyes and left me to my fate.

Past dark figures who lived only in their own morbid world.

Past people who didn't care about my life.

They knew it.

They saw that I was hurt.

Why?

Why didn't they help me?

Didn't they see me? Didn't they see the blood? Didn't they see that I needed help?

My arm was an aching mess. Warm blood ran down the sleeve of my black sweater, dripping from my fingertips to the floor. Like breadcrumbs that HE would find.

I leaned against the wall next to me, exhausted. Every alley looked like the next. Each street resembled the previous one. Every graffiti was the same.

Dawn was already breaking, but where should I turn?

My time was up. I could feel it.

An engine roared nearby, making me jump.

No.

NO!

I gritted my teeth, pushed off the wall, and kept running.

It was HIS engine.

HE was chasing me.

HE was still hunting.

I walked to the end of the alley and looked around. A lantern on the right lit up part of the road ahead. There was something oddly familiar about that. My instincts pushed me forward and when I recognized the alley ahead I ran straight into it. It was the alley where I was stopped, but this time there was no one to be seen. No one was about to stop or hold me.

Nobody would help me.

Disappointment spread through me and almost took my breath away.

Hope was a weakness.

I said it to myself over and over again like a mantra, yet I couldn't help but hope. I couldn't help but want to live.

The nearest lantern, yards away, only casted a long shadow across the door. It looked like a black hole gaping open.

I knocked a little hesitantly on the cold metal of the door because there was no bell. It wasn't a real entrance, more like a back door.

Meanwhile, the sound of the engine was getting louder and louder. I knew HE would find me. It was only a matter of time.

I had to keep moving. I wasn't allowed to stand and wait for help.

Or hope.

I knocked on the door again, this time more urgently. Hope was one of the worst feelings, but once started, it was difficult to subdue.

"Please!" I called, weak as I was, and knocked again.

Help me!

My heart was pounding wildly as the sound grew louder. Not that this town ever got really quiet, but I'd recognize HIS car everywhere.

Help me, please! I begged silently.

I waited.

Desperately.

And then, miraculously, my plea was answered. The door opened, if only a little.

It was enough for me.

I quickly pushed my way in and disappeared into the darkness that prevailed there.

Hands grabbed me the next moment. Rough hands. A man pinned me against the nearest wall.

"Please," I pleaded over the pain that instantly shot through my body.

My counterpart looked at me inquiringly. Like the men before him, he too was dark-skinned. Only the whites of his eyes could be seen in the dim light. He nodded hesitantly, then closed the door. Not a second later, HIS car rolled past.

HE drove slowly.

HE was still searching.

Relieved, I slid along the wall and collapsed.

HE hadn't found me.

Not yet.

"What do you want?"

That voice... It was the man who had helped me. I looked up, but there were dozens of dark-skinned faces staring at me, so I couldn't make him out.

"Ayden," someone said, somewhat surprised. "You know her? Didn't think you were into little white dolls."

Some men started laughing, others just grinned silently to themselves. Among those present was a woman with long braided hair. She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"May I, when you're done with her?" someone asked, elbowing the man next to them.

That's when I discovered him. Ayden. His gaze was cold and as unpredictable as the last time we met.

"Who are you?" he asked emotionlessly. The other men fell silent. The atmosphere tensed.

"Please," I murmured. There were so many words in my head, but only this one made it out of my mouth. I sounded as pathetic as I felt.

HIS car drove by again, this time backwards and even slower than before. HE let the engine roar loudly. HE knew very well that I was still close by.

My gaze darted back to the door.

HE had lost my track. HE knew that I was hiding here somewhere and HE would find me.

Just like HE always did.

"Who's that?" Ayden asked calmly. He slowly came closer. The other man, who had opened the door for me, made room for him.

Suddenly everything in me cramped. I hoped for help and protection, but there was a dangerous, unfriendly aura about Ayden. What if I was wrong? What if he handed me over to HIM?

I shouldn't have stopped. It had been a stupid mistake. Nobody would help me. Nobody ever helped me.

"Who," Ayden repeated, crouching in front of me, "is that?"

I opened my mouth, but not a single sound came out. Should I tell him? Would he believe me or would he think I was a liar like the police had?

"Chloe, I know you're here," HE called over the noise of his car. It didn't sound malicious, more like HE was looking for a missing pet.

And I was HIS missing pet.

A pet that ran away from HIM.

My stomach clenched painfully. My eyes wandered to the door again. Dozens of scenarios played out in my head, but I didn't finish any of them alive.

HE wouldn't bother to take me somewhere else. HE would kill me the moment HE finds me. And HE would find me.

"Are you Chloe?" Ayden asked, and I forced myself to look at him again.

Slowly, very slowly, I nodded. The pain in my shoulder was driving me insane. I bit my lips and tried to ignore it. By now I was pressing my shoulder so hard that my other arm was also hurting.

"What's there?" Ayden asked at the same moment he grabbed my arm and pulled my hand aside. Noticing the blood on me, he grunted disapprovingly.

It was bad, but I'd seen worse. It annoyed me that my body was so weak. So pathetic. It's been days since my last meal.

HE knew how to control me.

"What does he want from you?" Ayden asked.

I hesitated. The police didn't believe me, why should he? But I forced myself to answer him. "He wants to kill me." I heard my voice sound neutral. In fact, I wasn't afraid of death, only of how painful it would be for me. "If he finds me," I mumbled under my breath, "he'll kill me."

"He won't find you." Ayden's words showed confidence.

Did he believe me?

Did he really want to help me?

"Take care of him," Ayden ordered, keeping his eyes on me. A few men left the room without a single comment. Apparently, they took a different approach. The door I locked led directly into a large, open area. Old sofas and boxes stood in it. Several men were still sitting there, eyeing me attentively. They were mostly young men. Ayden was young too, I noticed, but his aura made him appear much older.

How old was I now? What did these men see when they looked at me?

"Terence, take care of her arm. She's losing to much blood." Another command, but his gaze was still on me.

A plump man got up from the sofa. In the dim light he looked like a massive mountain of flesh, although he had a rather friendly face. He was also dark-skinned, like everyone else here.

Without a word, he came to me, grabbed my right arm and pulled me to my feet.

I could hardly stand and didn't fight back. What for? I had no choice. My body was weak.

Ayden watched me as Terence led me a little further into the living room. I was glad my feet carried me. We approached a cot and a chair that was right next to it.

Terence pushed me onto the cot. "Then, let's take a closer look," he said before pressing me face down on the thin, stained mat. A bright light went on, blinding my eyes, then suddenly a pocket knife was in his hands. Without comment, Terence tried to cut my sweater open. Carefully, as if not to hurt me. I kept still as best I could.

Then, when he was satisfied with his work, Terence eyed the damage. He was very gentle, almost tender.

I let him do his work. What else should I do? I could only lay still until he was finished.

"The bullet's still in," Terence murmured after a while. "Now this is going to be … awkward."

Something rustled, then I made out small tweezers and what appeared to be a scalpel. Terence placed both neatly next to him, then he opened a small bottle. Immediately the strong smell of antiseptics hit my nostrils.

I didn't fight back. I didn't even flinch as he poked at my arm for the projectile. It had to be done. I had already lost so much blood that I could hardly stay awake.

"We're almost there," he murmured soothingly. "There's the culprit." He held up the small, bloody projectile, then set it aside.

"There'll be a scar," he said sullenly, as if apologizing to me.

I didn't mind another scar. Terence wouldn't let me die, that's all I cared about.

I slowly relaxed.

I was free, alive and I would survive this night.

Inside I was cheering with joy, jumping, dancing - but I was so incredibly tired that I could hardly keep my eyes open.

HE had punished me when I fainted, but HE wasn't here.

HE wasn't here.

I relaxed and closed my eyes.

-3-

When I woke up my head felt strange, thick and light as a feather at the same time. I laid on my back and looked up at the ceiling, knowing something was different. I stared up for several seconds before I remembered.

It wasn't the same ceiling I'd stared at for years.

I wasn't there anymore.

I was free.

I lived.

My arm was bandaged, but I was able to move. It throbbed through my body, but I hardly felt the pain. I felt light and carefree. I enjoyed the feeling because I knew it wouldn't last forever.

"How are you?"

I turned my head in silence and looked around. Terence had asked. He slowly came to me. I laid on the sofa, still in this living area. A dim light burned on the ceiling. There was no daylight as the windows were covered.

Terence sat down in the chair next to my head and gave me a questioning look. He seemed nice, but I didn't let that fool me. Even behind a nice face there could be a monster.

"You can hear me, right?" He paused, but I didn't want to answer him.

I was tired, my mind was empty. I could not concentrate. My thoughts immediately vanished, fleeting as they were.

"Don't you want to talk to me?" Another pause. "No?" A sigh.

I looked at him again, eyeing him the way he eyed me. He looked back at me and in his eyes... there was nothing.

No hate.

No bottomless abyss.

No madness.

Terence was worried. Nothing about him seemed dangerous, threatening or angry. He would wait until I was ready to answer him.

Not more.

I slowly sat up, only now noticing the heavy blanket that reached to my chest. It smelled nice. Flowery. After a plant with small purple flowers, but I couldn't think of the name.

"Chloe, right?"

I lifted my gaze from the blanket and looked at Terence again. Everything was spinning in my head. My stomach rebelled.

"Do you want some more painkillers?"

I shook my head, once, very slowly. My stomach calmed again and the carousel slowed down.

"You shouldn't put any weight on your arm for a while, then everything will heal well."

I slowly nodded.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Cotton," I murmured. The word rolled off my tongue with difficulty. "Like … packed in cotton."

"No pain?" Terence asked, a relieved smile spreading across his face. "That's good."

I let my eyes wander around the room and realized that only Terence and I were present.

"Ayden is not here."

I nodded. My head slowly cleared. Ayden wasn't here. The other men were gone too. What if HE found me here? Would Terence stop HIM?

Or had Ayden's men already found HIM? Caught? Killed?

"Where is he?" I asked slowly.

"Sadly, I can't tell you that. He'll be back soon."

I shook my head. "He."

"Oh," Terence said. He avoided my gaze. "I am sorry. He got away from us."

My stomach clenched, but I wasn't surprised.

HE wasn't easily caught.

HE was a hunter himself.

Exhausted, I sat back down on the sofa. "He'll come," I murmured under my breath. "I shouldn't be here."

"He won't hurt you. I won't allow that."

I was silent. How was Terence supposed to know that he couldn't do anything against HIM? He was too soft and kind. He didn't stand a chance against a monster.

"Chloe," Terence began shortly. His voice was incredibly soft. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Could I? How should I put it into words? Words weren't enough to describe what HE had done to me.

"How old are you?" Terence changed his question when I didn't answer him.

"I was born in 2001."

"21?" Terence asked after a moment. "When is your birthday?"

I couldn't remember a date. It was already too far ago. What had I cared about my age while imprisoned there?

"How old were you?" he asked even more gently. There was compassion in his words. Something I could barely remember.

"Six." I was a prisoner longer than free. What did that say about my life? What did that say about me? Did I even exist in this world?

"It's over, Chloe." Terence grabbed my hand, squeezing lightly. "It will be alright."

Unfortunately, I didn't believe a single word he said.

HE was still somewhere out there.

And HE was chasing me.

It had to be the next morning, because daylight was illuminating this strange living room like place. No one seemed to care about me, so I sat up and slowly looked around.

Nobody was with me.

I listened into the empty apartment, but everything around me was silent. City sounds reached me from outside. The pounding of an alarm system. Cars stuck in traffic. People laughing or yelling into their phones.

Normal.

It felt so strangely normal.

The room I was in didn't look any better during the day either. The set of sofa and armchair was thrown together and looked worn. A few boxes served as additional chairs. A large closet took up half the wall, and next to it was a hallway that led to the front of the building.

The door I came through obviously served as a back door. It looked like an ordinary room door from the inside.

There were no personal items. Nothing that made the room more liveable or warmer in any way.

This room was a means to an end. For what purpose, I didn't know and I didn't care either. These people had helped me and now I had to disappear before …

I didn't know.

I just wanted to get away.

The door was only a few steps away. The urge to get up and walk through that door into my freedom …

It was an incredible opportunity.

I could literally smell the freedom, could taste it on my tongue.

I quickly stripped off the blanket that had been spread over me and placed my feet on the floor. My sneakers weren't more than ten inches next to it. I slipped in quickly and rushed over to the door. I was wearing an oversized, worn sweater, but I didn't care. I didn't give a damn what I looked like with my bloodstained pants, bandages and shabby appearance.

Freedom laid before me.

Finally.

I looked back briefly, but then I opened the door and carefully stepped outside.

Nothing could stop me now.

I was free.

The air was cold, but already smelled unpleasant and used.

I was outside.

The sunlight blinded me so much that I had to shield my eyes from it.

Am I really free?

Now that no one was chasing me around town, I felt the chill seeping through my clothes instantly. Neither the sweater nor the pants could protect me.

I was free!

I was outside!

I took a deep breath, but a voice inside me knew I would never be free.

HE knew where I was.

HE always knew.

I only realized that I was running when I had already reached a few yards far. The alley led to a wide street. I forced myself to a normal pace and followed it. I didn't know where I was or where my legs were taking me, but the further away the better.

HE knew I was here and just that thought got me on high alert.

Everything in me urged to flee.

Suddenly, a shapeless mountain of clothing snapped me out of my thoughts. "Hey," he addressed me. Only in the next moment did I recognize the beggar in it. "I'm supposed to give you this," he said in a hoarse voice, handing me a small piece of paper. I took it hesitantly and froze.

It wasn't a note, as I thought.

It was a picture.

A picture of me.

HE shot it.

My brain started working again. I looked up quickly and turned around on my own axis. Several people were walking along the road that ran alongside the beggar.

A city worker emptied trash cans.

A woman hurried past us with her child.

Someone was on the phone.

And then I saw HIM.

I got cold. My whole body started shaking.

NO!

HE was standing across the street, a few feet away from me.

Smiling.

It roared so loudly in my ears that I couldn't hear any other sound.

"Found," formed HIS lips.

NO!

I turned on my heel and ran back. I was an animal on the hunt and I knew HE was enjoying it.

I pushed past people, bumped into someone who was spilling their coffee, and hurried on.

Away.

I had to go!

But I didn't know where I was or where to go.

"HEY!" someone shouted at me. It was an annoyed, high-pitched female voice. "You better watch out, you little bitch!"

A small white dog barked as it tugged at its leash and jumped in my path, but I ran past it too without hesitation.

Suddenly something tugged at me, pulling me to the side and covering my mouth. I felt his body against my back. His tight grip on my arms. The pressure on my wound.

I wriggled and kicked at him.

NO!

"Hush," he instructed me, and so did I, because it wasn't HE who was holding me, it was Ayden.

"You're not safe here," he murmured. "Come with me." He let go of me, took my hand like a toddler, and just pulled me along. I followed him, paralyzed. I didn't ask questions or tried to break away from him.

It was useless.

I couldn't escape.

HE knew exactly where I was.

It wasn't until Ayden pushed me onto the sofa and I sank back into the cushions that I realized he'd brought me back to that strange living room.

Without asking, he took the picture I was still holding in my hand. It was completely wrinkled.

I didn't want Ayden to see me – to see me like this, pathetic and humiliated – but I didn't dare to protest.

HE liked taking pictures. All the time. On this HE had draped me at a tea table. I was wearing a white dress and had a gag in my mouth so I wouldn't say anything, make faces or bite him like a rabid dog.

It was one of the first pictures. I was still young and inexperienced. Scared. Easy to break.

"You can stay here," Ayden said impassively. "I've wanted a pet for a long time. Stay indoors. We'll take care of him. As long as he's in my territory, he has no business here." With these words he got up and disappeared up the stairs a little further down the hallway.

His words were so kind and positive, but I knew – I KNEW – that Ayden was powerless. HE was a monster. HE wouldn't let himself be caught that easily.

"Are you hungry?" Terence asked me, suddenly stepping into my line of sight and shoving a plate of fries in front of me.

My stomach immediately rumbled.

"Grab it," said Terence.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the plate and silently ate the grease-soaked fries.

I had learned not to ask questions.

"I was a little concerned when you didn't scream. Thought the nerves were damaged." Terence pointed to my arm. "I'm glad you can move so well with it."

My body was used to healing itself. Pain was no excuse. "He wanted to hear my voice," I said softly. I didn't know much about this world, but I was sure of one thing: Terence fed me. I couldn't antagonize him. I had to get on well terms with him. "It was the only thing he couldn't force me to do," I continued, because Terence was still looking at me questioningly.

He paused before realizing what I meant. "Screaming?" His face showed sympathy and pain.

I just nodded.

"She's a little white worm," someone interjected. "Stop mothering her. It's disgusting."

"Ayden likes her," Terence said.

The other one snorted derisively. He mumbled something about "pet" and came closer. "If she didn't look so miserable, he'd have her in his bed by now."

I looked up at the man who was talking so rudely about me, then went back to my food. His face wasn't as friendly as Terence's, but it was quite pretty. He was young, about Ayden's age, and broad-shouldered.

"Hey!" the man said. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

This man was below Ayden in rank. He couldn't hurt me. He wasn't allowed to! And he didn't feed me, so I saw no reason to be nice to him. "You're not talking to me, you're talking about me." I didn't look up, but I immediately bit my lips and scolded myself for being stupid. Be still and stay alive! Another principle I kept in mind like a mantra over and over again.

Terence smiled. "Reese, calm down."

"Naughty, this little one." Reese slid onto the sofa next to me. I was uncomfortable with his presence, but forced myself to remain calm. I didn't care about Reese. Ayden was in charge and Ayden wanted to let me live. That was all.

"Reese, leave her alone."