7

Abby was alone in the basement and she didn't like that. Not that she could expect Gabe to sit down there with her all of the time, just to keep her company. He had a life of his own and even though she could not relate to that, she could understand it. She knew that he didn't owe her his time.

Just because he took her, doesn't mean that he has to treat her well. He has been so incredibly kind, giving her things to try to make her more comfortable, but that doesn't extend to his attention. He has a girlfriend that he would rather spend time with. I mean, look at him, of course he does. He is kind and sweet, thoughtful and considerate. Besides, he is easy on the eyes. The guy is gorgeous! She would be surprised if he didn't have a girlfriend.

A noise at the door at the top of the stairs catches her attention and she struggles to sit upright. Lifting her bound hands to her hair, she tries her best to smooth it down, in a vain attempt to look good. Then she realizes what she is doing and she stops, lowering her hands back to her lap.

It's just Gabe.

Only, it wasn't. When the door finally opened, an unfamiliar man who looked to be in his thirties or so, came down the stairs towards her. He was frowning and looked very unfriendly, which only got worse when his frown deepened to a scowl when he noticed the mattress and everything else that Gabe had brought her.

“He untied your feet and uncovered your mouth.” The man comments in a gruff voice. “As well as removing your blind fold. Fucking idiot.”

“He's not-”

“Shut the fuck up!” He tells her rudely. “You do not speak.”

The man looks around the room, for what, Abby does not know. She just watches him as he mutters beneath his breath, kicking things in the floor out of agrivation. Finally his eyes land on something and he moves forward to a big, red tin box that looks to be a tool box.

The man flips the lid open and rifles around inside, looking through it's contents. “A-ha.” He grunts before he stands up and slams the lid closed.

Coming over to Abby once more, he drops to his knees in the floor beside her feet. He has these clear plastic lines of something and he is giving her a cruel grin.

Taking one, he tries to to put it around both of her ankles that he is holding together tightly, but she doesn't think that it worked the way he wanted it to, judging by his curse. “Damn it to Hell!”

He pushes her one ankle roughly away, before he wraps the plastic thing around the other. He secures it until it is really tight. He is barely able to get another palctic piece between the band and her skin, but he manages it. Then he repeats the process with her other ankle, before he connects the plastic piece in the middle. He essentially made shackles for her feet, out of the plastic bands.

“Now, where the hell did he leave the blindfold and the duct tape?” The man asks.

Abby nows but she isn't going to tell him. He told her not to speak, so she won't. He gives her a knowing look, as if he can read her thoughts. “Where is it?”

She just watches him, giving him an impassive look and a vacant stare. She sees his smirk drop away and his face flush with anger. “You are a snotty little bitch, aren't you?”

The side of her mouth tilts up but she still says nothing. “Oh, girl. Smile while you can. That attitude of yours won't ladt forever. Mark my words, you are going to get knocked down a peg or two.”

Abby doesn't let her smile falter, despite the panic his words cause her. She learned a long time ago to never show her fear in the face of the enemy. So instead, she smiles fully and gives him a challenging look. Her attitude is meant to tell him to bring it on.

“Yeah. I will enjoy that, you little bitch. Seeing you knocked off your high horse.” He chuckles, deep in his belly.

He kicks at her feet, hitting her toe and making her wince. He tells her mockingly, “No, you don't go anywhere, girly.”

He laughs at his own joke as he goes up the stairs, his heavy steps echoing in the large room below him. She hears the door shut and the lock click, as well as a chain being lifted into place. She hadn't heard that when Gabe left. She assumed he locked the door. He would be an overly trusting fool if he hadn't, but she hadn't heard the security chain.

Pushing the thought from her mind, she lays back with a flop against her pillows, staring up at the ceiling. Her feet are already going numb from how tight the plastic bands are around her feet. She examines her wrists and sees the red, raw skin from where the rope burned her skin while she struggled to sit up.

Closing her eyes, Abby gets lost in thought. She wonders not for the first time why they took her in the first place. It wasn't like it was a case of obsession on any of their parts. Save for the man that was just here, no one has been here to see her except for Gabe. He wouldn't have taken her for that reason, because he didn't even know her first name.

But he did know her last name. Suddenly it makes sense. He kept calling her Miss Kensington, meaning her knew vaguely who she was, but not enough for this to be about her. Meaning that it must be about her father. She was kidnapped as some sort of punishment against her father or for some sort of blackmail or extortion scheme. Either way, these kidnappers sure messed up. If they thought that they could use her as leverage against his emotions to get him to shell out some dough, then they chose the wrong thing. She is his least favorite possession.

Although, he does want her now for that dumb marriage, so he might be willing to fork over a little cash if he can bum it off of the Sterling family. She doubts that happens though. If there is anyone on earth who values their wealth and position more than her father, than it would be the Sterlings. They would sell their own children if it made them more wealthy and more well known. In fact, they had. Many times over.

That is what these little arranged marriages are. You are selling your child in order to gain a company, or a new business partner. Throwing them to the preverbial wolves for their own personal gain. It is what her father did. But she had come to expect treatment like that from him.

He never saw her as a person. Just a possession. Something that he could whip out at parties or events when the situation warranted it, but that could be shoved back on a shelf and forgotten all the other times. That was the story of her life.

Although once she got older and realized what a horrible man he truly was, she didn't mind being forgotten because then she didn't have to be around him. There was less chances of her angering him and then fearing his retribution. He was a firm believer in 'spare the rod, spoil the child'. But a simple beating wasn't enough.

He had to punish her in every aspect to drive the lesson home. No food, no school, no luxeries and even worse, no mother or Irla. He would lock her in her room, after having workers strip it of everything. No books, papers and pens, toys.. no anything. One time he even had them take her blankets. It was a near December and the nights were cold. She went for four days with no blanket, laying on the bed, huddled into a ball and shivering.

Moments like those, over years with him, are why she can honestly say that she hates the man. And she doesn't just say that for dramatic effect because they don't get along. Even though she knows that hate is a strong word and that she shouldn't feel it for anyone, she knows in her heart that she hates him.

She honestly couldn't care less about him. If he lived or died, it wouldn't faze her. She wouldn't miss him if he were gone. She would feel relief that he could no longer terrorize her. She could go for the rest of her life never hearing his name again and she would be the happiest person.

Hate might be a strong word, but his cruelty towards her over the years has inspired strong emotion.

The sad thoughts of her childhood abuse swirling in her head lulls her into a fitfull sleep. When she awakens once more, it is to find a strange man laying on top of her. He grins down at her and she feels fear tingle down her spine.

“I heard that you were in need of my services.”

“Excuse me?”

“Phil said that you were a bitch just begging to be knocked down a peg. Luckily for you, I am an expert at knocking around women.”

With that he grabs her hair and yanks her head up, to place his lips to her ear. “You sure are a pretty little thing.”

“Get off of me.” Abby tells him, trying to pull her face away from him.

“Well now, that isn't very nice, now is it?” The man says. “I guess I am just going to have to teach you some manners, now ain't I?”

“Gabe-”

“Isn't here, is he? It's just you and me. Not, bitch, stop talking and let's make the most of our time together.”

The man grabs the hem of her shirt and lifts it up, his hands finding her smooth stomach and carressing. She squirms, trying to get away from him. When he lifts her bound hands over her head and moves his other hand down to her pants, she starts to panic. Hard.

“No.” Lifting her knee the best that she can with her ankles anchored together, she drives it into the man's stomach. She was aiming for his crotch, but the gut will work.

Either way it serves to piss him off. “You fucking bitch!”

Lifting his hand, he smacks her hard across the face.

“Help me!”