I didn’t.
Not long after, he was back with two plates of spaghetti, and for the second time since I’d been there, he ate with me. Taylor was always watching me, I guess probably because it gave him something to do in this room, so I was used to his eyes on me. But the way his eyes kept drifting over to me while we ate was freaking me out. When we were finished, he picked up the plates and stood, waiting for me to follow.
“Grab the bags for your shower.”
I took the bags that held everything I would need, including new clothes, and followed behind him as he opened the door. I held onto the back of his shirt when he prompted me to, and stuck closer to him than I normally did as we walked down the halls to the kitchen, and then the bathroom; and I cringed even more into him when we would pass the other men who were in the building with us. After his warning earlier, I would have rather not left my room again, but it didn’t have a bathroom.
Once I was done relieving myself, I didn’t even stop to think about Taylor being in the same room. I never did anymore. I stripped out of my clothes and folded them into a pile on the floor before stepping into the large shower with my new shampoo, conditioner, razor, and soap. It felt so good to shave that I wanted to stand in the shower and continue letting the water pour over me once I was done. But something about knowing there were clean clothes to put on, and a toothbrush to use, had me shutting the water off and hurrying to grab the towel to dry myself.
My eyes shot over toward the counter, and lying on top was one of the shirts, boxer-briefs, the deodorant, both brushes, and toothpaste. I sent a glare to Taylor’s back, and he must have felt the tension fill the bathroom because he shifted his weight and looked down.
“I didn’t look toward the shower. I was just making it easier for when you got out, you never opened the packs of clothes and they still had stickers on them.”
Oh, well . . . “Thanks.”
I put the deodorant on before slipping into the clothes that swallowed me whole. Someone needed to give Taylor a lesson in buying women’s clothes. At least the boxer-briefs had the elastic band, but I still needed to roll them a few times so it wouldn’t feel like they were about to fall down. The hem of the shirt touched midthigh and covered the briefs, but I had to stop looking at myself in the mirror because it just reminded me of when I wore Kash’s clothes to bed.
A deep ache filled my chest and I forced tears back as I reached for the hairbrush and spent minutes getting all the tangles out from however long I’d been here. After searching the bags and finding the hair rubber bands, I braided my hair low and off to the side, and finally, finally, grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste.
I had thoroughly brushed my teeth three times and was reaching for the paste for the fourth time when Taylor’s hand caught my wrist to stop me. His expression was somewhat amused, but there was a hint of the apologetic look I’d seen this afternoon.
“It will still be here tomorrow. Three is enough.”
The hand that was holding the toothbrush fell dejectedly to the counter, but I knew he was right. I went about rinsing off the brush and my mouth before turning to look at him.
“What do I do with the soap and everything in the shower?”
“Leave it in there.”
“But, won’t someone take it? Or touch it, or something?”
He shook his head and put the rest of the new clothes in one bag before grabbing my old clothes and shoving them in another and tying it off. “This is my bathroom. If you’re not in it, they don’t have a reason to come in here.”
“Oh. Wait, this is your bathroom? So there are others? This is a house?”
“Somewhat.”
I waited for him to expand on his response, but when he didn’t, I followed him out of the bathroom and through a door to a bedroom filled with various workout machines and a bed that made my body yearn for it. I followed him inside and watched as he put the towel and bag with my old clothes down a chute, and when he saw me standing behind him, he gestured toward the rest of the room.
“This is my room.”
“Why don’t you sleep in here?” Better yet, why can’t I sleep in here? The mattress I’m on is thin and old as dirt. And at least in here there’s carpet instead of a concrete slab for him to sit on.
He looked at me but never responded. His dark eyes moved quickly back and forth as they searched my face. Ever since he’d come back with dinner, he’d been looking at me like he was making sure I was still there, or still okay. I didn’t understand it, and just as I was about to ask about the change in the last half hour, he breathed out deeply and turned to go back to my room.
When I was back on my mattress, he turned off the light and I waited for the minutes to pass by until I could make out his form on the floor in front of the door.
“You never answered my question.”
“Which one?” he asked, his tone teasing.
I rolled my eyes though I doubted he could see the action in the dark. “When I brought up your room. You know you don’t have to stay in here with me; I really won’t try to leave again. You should be able to sleep in your own bed.”
After a minute he finally answered. His tone was dark again, and the way his eyes had looked earlier flashed through my mind. “I do need to stay in here with you. It’s not you I don’t trust; it’s them. At least I can lock you in here well enough that it would be extremely difficult for them to get to you when I’m gone.”
A chill shot down my spine at the thought of someone else coming in here; and confusion set in as I realized that, once again, I was thankful for Taylor. I didn’t want to feel thankful to him for anything, and I didn’t like that I felt indebted to him for what he’d done for me. Because despite his protection, he was still the one who had taken me from my house and was keeping me from getting out of here. I needed to remember that.
Instead of trying to continue the conversation, I pulled my knees up to my chest and shut my eyes. But even as I waited for sleep to come, I couldn’t help but acknowledge that for now, at least, I was safe—and as long as Taylor was in this room, nothing bad would happen to me.
Taylor
MY HEAD HIT THE WALL BEHIND ME when I heard her breathing even out. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I bit back a groan and tried to get the images from earlier out of my mind.
I could see her¸ so I knew she was okay. But, Jesus Christ, the way Marco had used Photoshop to make those images always looked so fucking real. Going so far as to take pictures of her hands when we’d had her knocked out and making it seem like we’d severed her fingers. Taking the recordings of her screams from when we’d taken her and those first couple days she was awake here, and playing them out masterfully so it sounded like she was being tortured when they called into the police department. And I didn’t even want to think about how they got all that hair that looked the exact shade of hers for the package they were sending tomorrow. Jaime had taken some of her personal things before we began trashing the room, and along with the hair matted in unknown blood, the earrings that had been on her nightstand were also spotted with blood and would be in the same box. If another two days went by without any progress, the detectives were getting the video.
In the twelve days since I’d brought her here, I’d spent practically every moment watching her like a hawk. I could pick her out in a crowd of thousands of people, if I were an artist, I could sketch her features from memory. Even so, I was having an impossible time making myself understand that whoever that girl was in the video, wasn’t the girl in front of me now. Again, where had they found the video? I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to. It was fucking sick.