Sadie
I've been running for too many years now. Running my business for two years now, running my mouth for two years. Running for my life for as long as I can remember. If I had a dollar now for every time some nasty old man made comments to or about me..I'd be a wealthy woman. I don't think it has anything to do with my age or my body, honestly. I think it's just the industry. I started a roll off dumpster company a couple years ago and end up on construction sites more often than residential. I built my business up from a couple dumpsters to 36 and added on portajohn and hand wash stations for events over the last year. 90% of my clientele are men, young and old, most are disgusting. I didn't have to deal with things like that before, but I'd take these guys any day over him.
My best friend Kara says I should hire a man to replace me out in the field, but I quite enjoy telling TooToothy Tom to take his invitations and tell his wife I said hi. Or Where'sWaldo Mr. Winston he can take his pecker gesture and shove it up his ass like I know he likes it. I always get an angry look and sputtered responses. Makes my day. But she might have a point, some days I do feel outnumbered and a little unsafe. I won't admit that to her, but it happens.
I hop out of the truck and make my way back to the controls to drop the dumpster at the new build my buddy Hayden just started in Greenville. I'm pretty aware of my surroundings normally but at the very least I stay packing because, well, Texas. I don't notice the creep coming around the other side of my dumpster until he's right up on me on the other side of the tongue of my trailer.
"Hey pretty lady, got a water in that cooler?" He asks as he tilts his head to the right, gesturing to the cooler in the bed of my truck.
"I might, give me a few to drop this dumpster and I'll grab you one." I say to the man. He looks like he might be one of the homeless, dirty clothes, dirty face. I feel for him a little, out here in the triple digits, but not much. Everyone has the same 24 hours in a day, is my motto.
'I'll look." He says as he goes to reach into the bed of my truck and start helping himself.
I put my controller down and halt my dumpster as I grab my gun out of my conceal band and point it to him.
"Stop." I say calmly. "Not your property. I said I'll grab you one in a few. Mind yourself and go sit down in the shade and I'll get you one when I'm done." No, I'm not an absolute bitch, it's just a water! But I've had some experiences that make me leery when it comes to men pushing their way into my truck. He holds his hands up, backs up and cusses me under his breath as he walks over to a tree and sits down. Where I can see him. Smart man. I finished my business with the dumpster and climb into the bed of my truck and grab him a water out of my cooler. Of course I had water, it's over a hundred out today. Wasn't the point.
I toss it to him and it lands by his feet. He mutters a thanks and finish dropping the dumpster. I texted Hayden a confirmation and I go to climb up in my truck to haul the trailer back to the yard when I see a man sitting in the back seat. I'm in the truck, arm reaching out to close the door when I see him. Who in the hell?
"Close the door Sadie." The man says.
"You aren't supposed to be in here. I need you to get out, I have other deliveries I need to make. A schedule to keep with clients waiting on me." I spit out as much as I can about people expecting me and still hold my ground. Safely.
Safely? Really Sadie?! WTF is this guy doing in my truck?! I'm panicking. Don't panic. You're okay. I think.
"Close the door Sadie." He repeats.
Well fuck. I guess here we go! Am I about to get kidnapped? Raped? Killed? Ugh. I choose the bear.
I close the door and look at him in my rearview.
"Start the truck Sadie." He says.
"Do I know you? What do you want? You want the truck? Take it. You want money? My purse is in the seat." I'm freaking out. I'm about to die. Kara was right, I'm an idiot, I think to myself.
"You do not know me. I want you to start the truck." I look at him in the mirror and I notice he's not sweating, like me in this God forsaken heat. He's got a smooth face, but his skin looks odd. Almost hard. It's weird. This is weird.
I start the truck and the AC and music start up full blast. The Death of Peace of Mind by Bad Omens filling the silence. I look at him, afraid to move anymore, and he dips his head slightly.
Okay, I get it. Turn it down Sadie. But, I'm frozen. Again. I just stare at him.
"Turn the music down, Sadie." He says. But, he didn't yell over the music. It was like there was no music playing and he was sitting right by my ear. My eyes squint as I continue to look at him, so unsure of myself. I grab the steering wheel and hit the buttons on the back of the wheel and turn down the volume.
"Thank you. You may drive." He says.
"Um, where?" I ask. I freaking hate this. I am a strong, independent, successful woman. Don't be such a coward, Sadie! I think.
"The location is in your GPS." He says.
My mind is reeling. Does he have a gun? Am I actually going to just go without checking? My heart is racing and it's hard to breathe.
"Ookay." I say, and start driving.
I drove from Greenville, TX to Denver, Co. We stopped for fuel, he pumped as he watched me. I had tried to use my phone and even connect through my truck but I couldn't get a text or a call out. Bathroom breaks were on the side of the road. No food stops. By the time we got to Denver I was wiped. I couldn't drive anymore.
"I'm going to have to pull over and sleep. I can't keep going. I worked almost a full day by the time you popped up in my truck and I've been driving for hours." I said, droopy eyes and absolutely exhausted.
"You may pull over at the next rest area and sleep." He said.
He freaks me out. Barely speaks, never drank anything, hasn't eaten either. He has literally watched me the entire trip. I have to get out of here.
I pulled over and parked the truck and trailer. I went to lay my head down on my arms on the center console when I felt something touch my arm and I jumped.
"OMG you scared me!" I said when I saw he was holding my truck blanket to me. I was exhausted to the point of delirious. My eyes were twitchy, my body felt like it was vibrating. He just stared at me, holding the blanket for me to take.
"Thanks." I mutter, as I slowly take the blanket from him.
I lay the blanket under my head and that was all I remember.
When I cracked my eyes open, I was laying in the back seat, covered up by the blanket with a hoodie under my head. The man was in the drivers seat driving down the road. It was still dark out, but you could see the sun would be coming up soon.
When I sat up, holding the blanket to me, out of comfort more than anything, I looked out the window and saw the silhouette of tall trees against the moon.
"Where are we?" I asked him. My voice cracking.
"Washington." He said, in his deep, monotone voice.
"Where are we going?" I asked him.
"To your master." I he said.
No thoughts. No thoughts crossed my mind. I completely blanked.
"No." I whisper out loud.
I can't go back to him. I can't do this.
"There is someone who wants to meet you." He said. "They do not like to wait, so I was sent to collect you."
I stayed silent. Processing. I might have found my confidence and my voice over the last two years after starting my business and dealing with man after man, some okay, some absolutely horrible...but I learned a long time ago to shut my mouth and keep to myself when it comes to survival.
We drove for another hour or two when we pulled up to the most beautiful estate I had ever seen. I looked like it was dripping in history. A beautiful home made of large stones or brick or whatever old estates used to be made of. Manicured landscape, tennis court, beautiful circle drive.
I bet whoever owns this is evil as shit. I thought to myself, and snorted. I knew who was waiting for me. Big and bald in the front seat glanced at me in the rear view mirror. I couldn't tell if he was assessing me or what. His eyes never showed anything. The few times he spoke to me it was always in the same tone, same expression, nothing. Just...is. Matter of factly without being, I don't know, matter of fact. Creepy. It was just creepy.
He drove up the driveway and stopped in front of the entrance, put the truck in park, and turned his body to face me before he spoke.
"I will take you inside to your room. You will bathe and change into the clothing provided. Once you are done, you will go downstairs to the veranda. He will be waiting there for you." He turned away from me and opened his door and stepped out of the truck.
I touched my pistol still on my back and decided to slip my hoodie on to better conceal it. I'm not about to go in empty handed.
I opened my door and stepped out of the truck, starting to stretch out my sore body when he stepped up near me. I stopped mid stretch, disappointed in my stretch being disrupted, when he looked down at me and spoke.
"Do not exit the vehicle on your own again. You will wait for the door to be opened and to be assisted out."
"Uh...okay." I drawled out, my slight southern accent coming through.
He began walking so I closed my truck door and started walking behind him, taking everything in. Panicking, again.
What in the actual fuck am I don't here? Are they going to kill me? Oh my God. OH MY GOD. He did find me. He's going to kill me, finally. The sick bastard is going to fuck with my head and then he's going to finally kill me. While I start to withdraw into my head with the knowledge that I'm going to die here, Big and Bald held the door open for me to step into the foyer.
I didn't focus on the opulence in the room. I glanced around for any other people, taking in anything I could use to save my ass when it came to it. A vase on a table, a big ornate hall tree made of heavy metal, a round table in the center with a huge bouquet of flowers, vet another vase. I could always hit someone on the head with it.
Not a lot to work with Sadie. I thought.
I followed the man up the stairs, taking in what I could mentally, when we walked down a hall on the third floor that had four doors. The hall was dark wood with big, dark crown moulding and pictures hanging on the wall. One was a painting of a dark night with the moon high, the tall trees silhouetted in the moonlight. There was a lake reflecting the moon with a few dead trees on the ground on one side. On the other, you could barely make out the colors of the flowers along the edge of the lake. Some deep purples, almost blue, hint of orange reds, but they all almost looked muted. It was beautiful.
I guess I stood too long looking at the painting because he cleared his throat and my head shot up as I looked at him.
"This is your room." He said.
I walked over to the open door and looked into the room as he stood in front of the door, but outside of the doorway. Oh wow, okay he's really tall. I thought to myself as I looked up at him. I'm 5'9", so I'm not short for a woman, but daggum he's got to be every bit of 6'4".
"Thanks." Is all I said as I walked in. He shut the door behind me with heavy but quiet click. I spun around, and walked to the door and looked for a lock. On the underside of the knob there was a little metal thing poking out and I tried pushing it in and it didn't do anything. So I crouched down, eye to eye with the knob and figured out that I had to push it to the side and it clicked. I checked the knob. Won't turn, okay, locked.
I blew out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding in.
I guess this is it. He's really going to do exactly what he said he would do. I thought to myself. I just stood in the middle of the room, disassociating for a minute, when I heard a slight creak outside my door. I just stood there. I was tired of looking over my shoulder. I almost didn't care anymore how this went down. I'm back in his possession, there won't be any escape this time.
I ignored the creak by the door, stood up straight and walked to what I thought would be the ensuite.
Jackpot. I thought to myself. At least I can stand under the hot water and let it relax my muscles a bit and wash the trip off of me before I have to face him.
I took off my boots and stripped out of my jeans and hoodie. I stood in front of the mirror in just my underwear and tshirt. I stared at my reflection. I don't have mirrors in my house. I don't like looking at what I see.
I stare at my hair, a blonde mess on top of my head, somewhat flopped to one side from sleeping. I look down to my exposed thighs, marks across them in all different directions., but they stop about 3 inches down. He didn't want me marked where my clothes wouldn't cover...Horizontal. Vertical. Wavy. A couple faint circles.
I take a deep breath and pull my shirt off. I unclasp my bra and let it drop from my arms and then step out of my underwear. I hadn't looked back up into the mirror. I haven't looked down at my own body or looked at myself in a mirror in years. I escaped 8 years ago and I stopped torturing myself, staring at myself in a mirror, for the last 6 years.
But being here, with him, I squared my shoulders and looked up.
The marks on my skin stared back at me. Carvings, etched lightly across my stomach, my ribs, my breasts. A one inch raised line on my stomach where he stabbed me. I wouldn't look at my back. I knew the raised skin in long lines across my back would break me because I was here. I always felt them, tight and puckered. I could feel them when I bent or moved certain ways.
I looked up into my eyes, finally. I saw a woman looking back at me. Not a scared girl. Not a victim. A strong woman. I may be scarred for life, inside and out, but he can't touch my soul again.
I stayed under the spray of the water for at least an hour. I let it ease my muscles and just cleared my mind. No thoughts, no worries, no panic. I had resolved myself to inner peace and acceptance. Probably more like disassociation.
When I stepped out of the shower I grabbed one of the towels on the shelves and dried off. I put on the robe that was hanging up and walked over to one of the two doors in the bathroom. Opening one, I found the toilet. I closed the door and walked across the cold, slick tile over to the other. Probably a closet, I thought.
"Oh, well, what do you know." I said quietly to myself. "Closet for 200 please." I walked in and saw a dress hanging and a pair of wedges sitting below the dress on the shelf at the floor. I walked to the square counter-dresser-drawer thing in the center of the closet and opened all the drawers digging for underwear. Nada.
"Really asshole?" I said out loud. Not shocked, but utterly annoyed at the lack of undergarments. It's always been a mental power play. Little things to try to mentally derail me. I rolled my eyes and pulled the dress off the fancy hanger.
I had decided I would go commando, not like I really had a choice, and I would wear the stupid dress, but I wasn't about to attempt to do shit with my hair and I was going barefoot. I had to admit the dress was great. It was a pale periwinkle linen material with tiny little white flowers embroidered on it. I guess it was a sun dress. Tiny little straps to hold it up, form fitting around the bust and then flared out just a bit as it went down, stopping mid thigh. Just covering my markings, I noted, mentally.
I brushed my hair with a brush I found in the bathroom and brushed my teeth with the new toothbrush and what looked like a new tube of toothpaste I found in a drawer in the bathroom. I never bothered to look into the mirror again. I wouldn't do that again. I saw what I needed to see.
As I unlocked and opened my door, before I stepped out into the hallway to go downstairs, I saw another painting across from my door. This one was bright, it almost looked like a white background with a set of bright blue eyes center, but down low near the frame, looking up. It was weird. Just eyes. I walked through my doorway to it, slowly, almost drawn to it. As I got closer, I saw there was a faint set of eyes above. Again, it looked diluted, but so faint you don't notice it when looking from afar. They were looking down at the the other eyes.
"That's not fucking weird." I mumbled out loud.
As I turned away from the the painting and started to make my way downstairs, I couldn't help feeling like I was being watched. Ew, I thought. I'm so over this. He's probably watching me, beating off or beating someone while wanting to beat off. I fucking hate him.
I go downstairs to the main level and try to work my way to the back of the house. House of horrors, I thought, rolling my eyes.
I guess I was just so desensitized after all those years, I just couldn't give a fuck anymore. I mean, who wouldn't be. Those "fortunate" enough to survive traumatic experiences, mentally, can deal with disassociation and desensitization periodically, as well as CPTSD. At least that's what the therapist said the one time I tried therapy. That was before I realized I really couldn't share anything I had been through with anyone. It made people so uncomfortable they either couldn't handle even the light shit, or they just didn't believe me. So I said fuck it, and just tried to live with it and move on.
I finally found the huge glass windows at the back of the house and headed for them. As I padded out to the veranda, I saw a man sitting at a table with two chairs.
Holy hell. I thought. He was..something.
He had dark hair, a hint of a wave, only a few finger lengths long. Long enough to beautifully fall towards his right eye, like it was meant to be there. He had light jade eyes, so sexy. His eye shape is probably one of the sexiest things I have ever seen on any man. They were almond but not, slanted but not. Dark, thick eye lashes hooding his eyes. He had a solid straight nose, a strong mouth with full lips and a strong jaw. He had stubble on his jaw, like he didn't shave in a day or two. Golden skin trailed his thick neck, veins popping out, down to his broad shoulders and a little peek of a dark hair poking out the top of his black button up shirt. Holy hell. Mr.MakeMeScream is all I want to deal with now.
His lips pursed together after he took me in for a minute. Okay, what was that about?
He rose from his seat. And he kept rising, and rising. Oh. My. God. This man was a wet dream walking. What was he? Like 7 foot tall?! Jesus! Broad shoulders, big ol' muscly arms, sexy fucking veins up his arms where his sleeves are rolled up. Tattoos. Big fucking veiny hands. Big ol tree trunk thighs you could see straining against his slacks. Oooooweeee. It's hot out here.
I bit my lip. I bit my fucking lip. Omg Sadie don't embarrass yourself like that! So I let my lip go, but I'm gonna tell you now, my clit was a throbbin. Pounding to the beat in my chest. Whew. This one is something. This is new.
And then I remembered where I was, and who was watching, and the punishment I would get when he saw me bite my lip. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. No reactions Sadie! I thought.
He gestured for me to take a seat. Once I sat, he sat down also.
"Welcome home, Sadie."
Who the fuck is this guy?