3. My Doom

Oceane's Pov

“She requires your presence.” I hear a sharp intake of breath behind me. I whip my head to the side so fast that my neck almost snaps in half.

She’s covered in blood and sweat.

I run. I run so fast and I don’t stop until I’m kneeling by my mother.

“Did you make your father angry again?” She breathes out. I don’t answer. I’m too focused on how weak she looks to even provide her an answer.

“Oceane.”  She whispers.

“Oceane.”

“Oceane.”

“Miss!”

I jump awake, screaming, panting, clawing at my neck. I look to the side only to be met by a startled look thrown my way.

It’s a young girl. Not as young as me, but young.

Is she a maid?

“It’s time for a bath, Miss.” Her voice slightly escapes a whisper. I shake my head in disagreement. “It’s an order from the boss. Plus, whatever activity you indulged in last night left you looking all filthy. Very unladylike if you ask me.”

True.

I shoot her a glare. The lady gulps thickly, as if afraid of what I might do to her. She shifts from one foot to another when she continues speaking. “Your dresses will be laid out by the time you finish in the bathroom. You can take your pick.” 

“Okay.” It’s a tiny whisper of my voice. I limp into the bathroom and begin discarding my clothes when I hear my door creak open. The knowing that the monster who took me hostage is walking into my private space without as much seeking permission aggravates me. 

Discarding my dress and undergarments, I gently get into the bathtub, sighing in relief at the feel of the water against my bare skin.

This feels good.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three soft knocks resound from the other side of the bathroom’s door.

I don’t speak.

“Hurry up in there, munchkin, your breakfast will get cold.”

“Go away!” I bellow.

I hear him chuckle. “Why so grumpy this morning, huh?” He taunts and for some reason, tears brim my eyes.

Dealing with this man has become so infuriating. So nerve wracking. It drives me out of my mind.

His mind games are beginning to get to me and it’s scary. He talks when I don’t want him talking, laugh at everything my mouth elicits. He mocks me. Makes a joke of my existence.

I loathe it.

Dragging in sniffle, I say, “please leave me alone. I’m so tired.” My voice gives me away, cracking through each word. I let go, allowing the tears at the brim of my eyes flow.

Rope after rope of sorrow, pain and hatred. I let it flow.

The need to feel something forces me to submerge myself underneath the bubbling water. 

I submerge myself and stay underneath for long minutes until I’m at the edge of passing out.

And when I rise, I’m met with complete silence, except, I know he’s still by that door. He doesn’t speak, but I hear the uneasiness of his breathing. I feel the tension radiating off him.

“I got you a book.” He finally breaks the silence, causing my lips to stretch into a smile.

“You did?” I giggle and a deep rumble of a hum reverberates from him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Another wave of silence encases us, but this time, the silence is calming to the soul. So relaxing.

I scoff.

He breaks the silence again. “What would you like to do today?”

“Uhm. . . I’ll read the book you got me.”

I hear him chuckle. “I have a place, a penthouse, it’s quiet and serene. Would you like to come with me? It’ll just be the two of us and I’ll be working the whole time.”

I contemplate for a few minutes before answering. “Okay.”

“Good. I wasn’t asking anyway.” He replies.

I groan.

Who’s this man?

“Could you step out of the room? I need to be out and you’re not allowed to see me.” 

He doesn’t say a word when he throws the door open, slamming it behind him.

Is he angry?

…

Minutes after I’ve finished dressing up, the door is pushed open, Angioletto walking in with a food tray in hand.

He has his eyes trained on mine as he lowers the tray onto the table. 

“You should eat, or would you like me to feed you?” He suggests. I stare at him blankly, wondering what goes through his head most of the time.

My tone of voice whispery when I answer, “You have to leave, sir, give me some privacy. I don’t perform well around strangers and it doesn’t help that you make me so nervous.” 

His demeanor changes. He takes a couple of steps forward. I back away, unable to say anything to keep him away considering how stubborn he can be. He moves forward again, and I back away. Perfectly arched brows shoot up as if challenging me when he takes the third step forward. Fearful of what he might do to me, I don’t make a mistake of moving. I quietly let him close the distance between us until he’s standing toe to toe with me.

“I make you nervous, sí?” He breathes almost angrily. I hum in response. “How’s that? How do I make you nervous, my sweet, little, Oceane?”

“I don’t know. . .” I stutter, pursing my lips nervously. Angioletto takes a step forward, his lips stretched into a curious smile. Exhaling a breath through my lips, I take a step backwards, creating some sort of distance between the both of us.

“Just because I’m your hostage and no matter how good you treat me, I still find that being around you unsettles me.” I explain. My words, perhaps funny to the gentleman, draws an amused chuckle from him. 

“Is that what you want? For me to give you space? You want me to stay away, munchkin?”

I nod, “Yes.”

He shakes his head, clearly disagreeing with me. “And you think I’d agree to this?”

“Just please, Mr. Angioletto. I’m so tired, so stressed out. Everything here is so different and infuriating. I just want to be by myself.”

“What does that even mean?”

“ It means I’m living amongst strangers!” I scream, causing his eyes to darken.

He drawls his question. “Again Oceane, is this what you really want?” 

I puff out an exhausted breath. “Why do you keep asking this?”

“Because I’m giving you the freedom to choose.”

Mockery filled laughter ripples out of my throat. “Do you really care about what I want or are you just desperate to get a reaction out of me? Is this one of your numerous mind games? Does my pain and misery bring you so much joy?”

“Watch your tone, munchkin.” His voice a monotone, warning laced in his tone of voice.

I breathe exasperatedly. “Or what?! What are you gonna do? My life was already bad as it was before you came in and took me away from my family, forcefully might I add! What do you expect from me?” Tears stream down my face. “Do you expect me to be grateful for your generosity? You’re still my captor and no good deed from you would ever change what you truly are! So if it’s my suffering that brings you peace, then go ahead and make me suffer! I’m all yours!”

If I thought his eyes were ice cold and dark before, then I haven’t met this side of him. It’s as though my words snapped something in him. His jaw is clenched tight, teeth grinding, nose flaring, eyes twitching irritatedly.

He’s so different. Strange. Scary.

I back away from him the slightest bit. Again.

“If I were desperate to get a reaction out of you, if I were desperate to see you suffer, munchkin, I’d lock you up in a dark room with my dog and I’ll watch as he rips you apart piece by piece. Little by little. On my command.” He growls in my face. “And the fun part is when I bask in the calmness your screams of terror will provide. Or when I bask in joy the beautiful vibrant red color your blood splatter would bring me, and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it except cry, scream and thrash around. Stop fucking acting like there’s anything special about you.”

His words are like sharp edges of knives cutting through my skin. Like a slap to my face. How can he be so nice to me this minute and still treat me like I’m worth nothing the next?

He steps forward again, this time gripping my chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing me to look up at him.

“One more thing, doll, I don’t need you telling me you belong to me, because you became mine the moment I laid eyes on you. Do you understand?”

Tears brim my eyes but I don’t let it flow as we both stare at each other in complete silence.

He breaks the silence. “Eat your fucking food and get ready quickly, we leave in five minutes. Not a minute later.” He sterns, turning around and storming out of the room.

This will surely be my doom.