The Only Choice (The Choices Trilogy #3) (32 page)

My eyes feel swollen and I don’t know if that is from the remnants of my endless tears through the night or from more physical abuse while I was unconscious. I take a silent inventory of my body but as stiff and sore as I feel I don’t think anything is broken, just a killer headache and an overwhelming fear for my future. I take in my new home; I’m thinking bijoux fixer-upper for the more psychopathic minded professional. It is small, dank with no natural light and the period detail around the dormant fireplace makes me think this is an older property, maybe Victorian. Which would fit because not so many new builds have cellars or dungeons as in this case. There is a table beside me with a jug of water and a plastic cup. I lick my dry bloated lips but don’t have enough moisture for the task and because my right hand is pinned uselessly to the wall I struggle clumsily to pour a cup of water, spilling precious liquid all over the table. I don’t know how long this is supposed to last but I do know that if Kit has gone to the trouble of bringing me here it’s unlikely she would poison the water. It is still possible but unlikely . . . I hope. The cool water feels delicious as it trickles down my parched throat but my cracked lips sting as they touch the cup. I suck in a sharp but quiet cry and my fingers gently pat the point of pain, looking down at the streak of red on my fingertip and now tasting the copper tinge to the water. I know I must have split my lip when I fell or maybe Clive took another swing for old times’ sake.

I continue to take small sips, look around and try to think. I may not understand why I’m here but at least I can try to figure a way to use something in this room to escape. The bed is sparsely covered, the table has no drawers and the chain holding my arm is so short I couldn’t use it to wrap around Kit’s neck even if she was sat on my lap. The wall to my right has a flat green screen, not a television just a printed green screen that covers the whole wall and at the end of the bed is a cross trainer. It is possible this is someone’s home gym but it’s so creepy you would have to be a serial killer in training to enjoy working out in here. I shiver at my own macabre musings, because isn’t that what Kit is, a killer; not serial as such, I just happen to be her own personal re-run of the same episode. I pour and drink another cup of water, the silence at first oppressive is now tiring and I find I sink back down, shuffling and finally getting as comfortable as I can on my side with my hand strung up like I still want some answers, which is fine because I do. I close my eyes and fall asleep, waiting for my answers.

The movement on my wrist alerts me and I feel the stretch in my bicep as the small chain contracts and my hand is brought flush to the wall. I shuffle to allow the retraction without pulling my arm from its socket. The locks on the door click and I can hear keys jingle. The time between that initial noise and when the door finally opens makes my heart sink, at least three locks and two sliding bolts by the sound. The door looks heavy as it moves slowly open and Kit steps in carrying a bucket, a paper bag and an irritated look on her face, like I am causing her some huge inconvenience. She stands beside the bed and I notice she keeps enough distance that if I were to swing my legs out I would miss her but only by millimetres. She puts the bucket on the floor by her feet; my understanding is instant as is the sudden urge and discomfort from immediately bursting to pee. I frown at her static position and wonder if she is just going to stand there while I squat on the bucket dangling from the cuff on the wall. She fumbles in the paper bag and rips the packaging and throws the white pen on the mattress beside me. I feel my colour drain as I recognise the pen and the package of the pregnancy testing kit she holds in her hand.

“Piss on that!” She crosses her arms and curls her lips like the words taste fowl, not as fowl as hearing them. I shake my head.

“I don’t need to go.” I offer with little conviction as my toes start to curl at the very thought of having to hold on much longer.

“Oh I’m sorry Bethany you seem to have mistaken me for someone who gives a shit what you want. Mistaken me for someone that won’t ask Clive to strip you naked, hold you down and press on your bladder until you piss all over yourself as I hold that stick between your legs.” She snarls the words and I swallow back a small cry in my throat and blink back my building tears. I can’t let her see how this is effecting me, how broken I am right now because I know it would just make her day. I bite the inside of my cheek and dig my fingernails into my palms giving me some tangible pain to focus on. I draw in a fortifying breath and with more bravado than I can possibly be feeling, I straighten my spine and fix her emotionally barren stare with my own fiery glare.

“Fine, but you might want to loosen the leash or I will end up pissing in my jeans and then you’ll not be able to get your little test done after all.” I cross my ankles and put one arm across my tummy trying to protect my little secret for just a few minutes more. Kit walks back to the door and opens it enough to slide her arm through. I hear the whirring of a small motor and my arms starts to fall from its elevated position. I wriggle my fingers as the blood starts to flow back, pins and needles prickle the digits and I fist and release my hand for relief. She steps back inside and makes sure the door is closed until it clicks and she keeps her back to it and well out of my new range. I stand and squeeze my eyes at the sharp shooting pain like an ice pick between my brows and I have to bend to hold the mattress as a wave of nausea makes my legs buckle and my stomach heave. I swallow back the liquid pooling in my mouth and take a steadying breath. Let’s get this over with. I pull at the buttons and roughly push my jeans and panties to my knees. My vest hangs to my mid-thigh to cover my nakedness but as I flick an angry glance at Kit she isn’t even looking my way. She is inspecting her immaculately manicured nails.

I grab the stick and hover low over the bucket, my legs tremble with the tension of holding my weight at this strange angle but my fingers are trembling for an entirely different reason. I lightly hold the absorbent end of the plastic pen, angled down and in the mid-stream. I stand instantly I’m finished, empty but not relieved and pull my jeans back in place holding the stick like a weapon.

“Here you are.” I wave it at her, my voice is clipped and angry because in minutes this stick is going to be screaming my secret and I am furious the first one to know is going to be the one person I hate. Well, the one person I hate the most.

“Nice try sweetie but I’m not coming anywhere near you and your ninja moves.” She barks out a bitter laugh and nods to the floor. “Just put it on the floor and step back.” I fight a smirk because I have to admire her memory or her research and that she’s smart enough to learn from it. I put the stick face down on the floor and take a half step back. She smiles too and opens the door once more and once more the motor stars to whir and I have to keep step with the retracting chain that is now pulling my arm back to the wall and far away from Kit. Once I am secured with no give on the bed, kneeling, arm pinned above me, my face fixed with a scowl that I only wish could kill, Kit moves to retrieve the stick. She paces the room slowly, wiggling the stick in her fingers but she doesn’t look at me and she doesn’t speak. My mind is racing, how did she know? I mean how the fuck did she know? No-one knew except my doctor. Maybe she hacked my records, that seems a little farfetched even for Kit but there has to be something. Maybe she has been following me, seen me throw up all those times but she wasn’t in my flat or at work when that happened.

She stops with her back to me and in a dramatically slow turn she fixes me with a knowing evil grin and narrow callous eyes. “Well, well. She was right after all.” She quirks her pristine brows and shrugs her shoulders like I am supposed to know what the hell she is talking about, like I am supposed to know who
she
is.

“Kit?” I ask my voice shaky and desperate as she walks with purpose toward the door. She opens it and flashes me a tight indifferent smile before the door slams shut. I don’t hear the locks turn and I panic and shout after her. “Kit! Kit! What are you talking about! What the fuck are you talking about! Who was right?” My voice wavers as I scream in frustration but my throat is too sore to hold the strength of my anger. “Who the fuck was right?” I cry out in exasperation not expecting to be answered when the door flies open and I suddenly wish I never knew the answer. The perfect storm of evil bitches; Kit and Angel; Angel and Kit. I suck back a silent strangled cry because crying won’t help. Whatever they have planned, I won’t survive but what chills my soul is that I know this isn’t about me anymore.

“Now Bethany we can’t have that sort of language around the baby, can we?” She smiles so sweetly at me I find my automatic reaction, ingrained manners, has me returning her smile before I physically shake my head at my own stupidity.

I tighten my lips to a thin smile and just as sweetly say. “Fuck off!”

She steps into the room rapidly crossing the small distance and slaps me hard across my cheek. My head snaps forward and is yanked back with a sharp pull of my hair, her face inches from mine her venom seeping from her lips and crawling over my skin. “I said I won’t have that sort of language in front of
my
baby.” Her grip tightens and I feel the hair tear from my scalp but that is no pain compared to what she has just said. I gasp in horror, my eyes flood with water and I turn my head away and my body starts to shake and convulse physically repelling the notion that I would ever let her have my baby.

She releases her grip with a violent push that smashes my head against my own knee, bruising my lips again, more swelling to my already swollen lips. She huffs and steps back. “Now look what you made me do, how can I take pictures with you looking like that?” She sighs and lightly shakes her head before carefully sitting on the edge of the bed. She is in reach of a one off kick from me but I am so fucking scared right now I just curl up a little tighter into myself. “Look we should probably go over some rules or this is going to be a unpleasant for all of us. There is really no need or any reason why we can’t have a little fun.” I hear Kit snicker but I don’t turn her way. My widened unbelieving eyes are fixed on this vision of pure evil, perched in a neat elegant Prada package at the end of the bed. “Right.” She takes a moment to compose herself when she turns, her face is masked with a sickly smile and emotionless eyes. Angel is the most terrifying person I have ever met. “Mostly, if you do what I say . . . if you behave and don’t cause any trouble you will be left alone. You will be fed the best nutritional meals of course and either Kit or I will come in once a day to make sure you take the proper exercise, none of that Kung Fu nonsense.” She nods at the cross trainer. “I will need you to give me some personal details to put on your social pages. Don’t misunderstand me, I know everything there is to know about you from Daniel. What I need in this instance is outside of that, you know typical things you might comment on just to aid authenticity. I should caution, before you think this would be an opportunity to drop some hints or put out a cryptic cry for help. It isn’t. It would be extremely unwise to treat it as such.” Her detached tone and ice cold delivery actually stop my heart because it’s too fucking scared to beat. Her deliberate pause is heavy and ominous but she breaks it with a wholly out of place brilliant smile before she continues with the rules. “If you prove you can follow these simple rules I will bring you something suitable to read, but no Television and no Radio. I won’t have my baby infected subliminally with all sorts of uncensored media. Books I approve will be fine but you have to prove to me you can be trusted.” She smiles and sighs patting her knees before she goes to stand. “I think that covers it don’t you Kit?” I don’t hear Kit speak so I guess she has nodded her agreement.

“Why?” I manage to ask.

She chuckles lightly, like it’s such a silly question and perhaps it is. “Kit was surprisingly willing to help with any plan that involved hurting you. For her this is very personal. You know, I even think she would’ve done this as gratis but she does love money and there is a great deal of it in play. Honestly Bethany, hell hath no fury like your sister.” She shares a knowing grin with Kit before continuing her speech. “Me, specifically . . . hmmm . . . Well, I could give you many answers to that one Bethany, because you have something I can never have, because I want Daniel. No” She shakes her head. “Let me correct that . . . because I want Daniel to love me and he will, by the way.” She laughs and places her hand where her heart should be like it’s a funny joke to play with lives like she is. “I really enjoy this game and I never deny myself anything that brings me joy . . . But mostly Bethany, it’s because I can.” She sniffs and looks down her perfectly sculptured nose. “You will never know how easy you made this. You just didn’t know when to quit. You practically gift wrapped him for me.” She laughs lightly.

“You can’t keep me here forever. You’ll never get away with it.” I scoff but my words are hollow because tied to the wall in some basement cellar, ‘get away with it,’ is exactly what she has done.

“Really?” She walks and stands beside Kit. “Who is going to miss you Bethany? It is actually pathetic how few people will even know you are gone. But what is really incredible, is that I didn’t even have to worry about that because
you
told everyone that you are travelling,
alone,
going to get ‘your shit together.’ It is perfect, really, I couldn’t have planned this better myself. And I have been planning this for some time, ever since I stumbled on your file in Daniels office. Oh don’t look so shocked you know what he’s like, he is so very careful with the things he lo—” She shakes her head unable to say the word but I snap out the word like a personalised bullet hoping to wound.

“Love . . . what Daniel is like when he loves.” But my words have no visible impact she just fixes her impassive face with another fake smile and continues to torture me with her speech.

“The file was mostly about Kit but it did have some background information regarding Ethan and your father which has proved a useful added incentive for Kit and her insatiable greed.” With disconcerting hubris she smiles at Kit. Kit is a statue seemingly unaffected by the insult or maybe she took it as a complement, either way I couldn’t tell. Angel turns back to face me with a deep set frown. “
You
dared to question me, interfere with my relationship with Daniel . . . threaten my plans and my future! But you under estimated our history, Daniel is so very loyal. He will never forgive himself for killing our baby. It haunts him so much that I knew you couldn’t possibly win. Besides I am his first love, he will love me again. I can see he wants to and now he can.”