Twist Me (11 page)

The left screen lights up. The image is strange because it’s so unexpected.

It looks like a regular bedroom in someone’s house. The bed is unmade, sheets bunched up carelessly on the mattress. Posters of various football players line the walls, and there is a laptop sitting on the desk.

“Do you recognize it?” Julian asks.

I shake my head.

“Good,” he says. “I’m glad about that.”

“Whose bedroom is it?” I ask, a sick feeling appearing in my stomach.

“Can’t you guess?”

I stare at him, feeling colder by the minute. “Jake’s?”

“Yes, Nora. Jake’s.”

I begin to shake inside. “Why is it on your TV?”

“Do you remember when I told you that Jake is safe as long as you behave?”

I stop breathing for a second. “Yes . . .” My whisper is barely audible.

Truthfully, I had forgotten about his initial threat to Jake, too consumed with the experience of my own captivity. I don’t think I took the threat seriously to begin with, certainly not after I learned we were on an island thousands of miles away from my hometown. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had been convinced Julian can’t really harm Jake. Not from a distance, at least.

“Good,” Julian says. “Then you’ll understand why I’m doing this. I don’t want to keep you locked up, unable to go anywhere or do anything. This island is your new home, and I want you to be happy here—”

Happy here? I’m more than ever convinced that he’s crazy.

“—but I can’t have you trying to hurt Beth in pointless escape attempts. You need to learn that there are consequences to your actions—”

The sick feeling inside me spreads throughout my body. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it anymore! I won’t, I promise!” My words are hurried and jumbled. I don’t know if I can prevent what’s about to happen, but I have to try. “I won’t hurt Beth, and I won’t try to escape. Please, Julian, I learned my lesson . . .”

Julian looks at me almost sadly. “No, Nora. You haven’t. I had to come back today, cutting short my business trip because of what you did. Beth is not here to be your jailer. That’s not her role. She’s here to take care of you, to make sure you’re comfortable and content. I can’t have you repaying her kindness by trying to kill her—”

“I wasn’t trying to kill her! I just wanted . . .” I stop, not wanting to reveal my plan to him.

“You thought you could take her hostage?” Julian looks amused now. “To do what? Get her to take you off the island? Help you reach the outside world?”

I look at him, neither denying nor admitting it.

“Well, Nora, let me explain something to you. Even if your attack had succeeded—which it wouldn’t have, because Beth is more than capable of handling one small girl—she wouldn’t have been able to help you. When I leave, the plane leaves with me. There’s no boat or any other way off the island.”

His words confirm what I had already suspected from my explorations. But I’m still hoping that—

“And I’m the only one who has access to my office. There’s no computer or communication equipment anywhere else in the house. All Beth can do is send me a direct message on a special line that we have set up. So you see, my pet, she would’ve been quite useless as a hostage.”

So much for that hope. Each sentence feels like a nail getting pounded deeper into my coffin. If he’s not lying to me, then my situation is far, far worse than I feared.

Unless Julian chooses to let me go, I’ll be stuck on his island forever.

I want to scream, cry, and throw things, but I can’t let myself fall apart right now. Instead, I nod and pretend to be calm and rational. “I understand. I’m sorry, Julian. I didn’t know any of this before. I won’t try to escape again, and I won’t hurt Beth. Please believe me . . .”

“I’d like to, Nora.” He looks almost regretful. “But I can’t. You don’t know me yet, so you’re not sure if you can believe me. I need to show you that I’m a man of my word. The sooner you accept the inevitable, the happier you’ll be.”

And with that, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out something that looks like a phone. Pressing a button, he waits a couple of seconds, then says curtly, “You can proceed.”

Then he turns his attention to the screen.

I do the same, a hollow sense of dread in my stomach.

The TV still shows an empty room, but a few seconds later, the door opens and Jake walks in.

He looks terrified. One of his eyes is swollen shut, and his nose is off-center, like it’s broken. He’s followed by a large masked figure toting a gun.

A horrified gasp escapes my lips. “Please, no . . .” I’m not even cognizant of moving, but my hands are somehow on Julian’s arm, tugging at him in desperation.

“Watch, Nora.” There’s no emotion on Julian’s face as he pulls me into his arms, holding me so that I’m facing the TV. “I want you to learn once and for all that actions have consequences.”

On the screen, the masked henchman suddenly reaches for Jake—

“No!”

—and hits him hard across the face with the handle of the gun. Jake stumbles backward, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth.

“Please, no!” I’m sobbing and struggling in Julian’s iron grip, my eyes glued to the violent scene taking place thousands of miles away.

Jake’s attacker is relentless, hitting him over and over. I scream, feeling each blow inside my heart. Every brutal strike against Jake’s body is killing something inside me, some belief in a brighter future that has held me together thus far.

When Jake falls to his knees, the man kicks him in the ribs, and I can hear Jake’s pained groan.

“Please, Julian,” I whisper in defeat, slumping in his arms. “Please, stop . . .” I know I’m begging for mercy from a man who has none. He’s murdering Jake in front of my eyes, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.

My captor lets the beating proceed for another minute before he releases me and pulls out his phone. I stare at him, trembling from head to toe. I don’t even dare hope.

Julian quickly types in a text. On the screen, I see Jake’s assailant pausing and reaching into his pocket.

Then he stops completely and leaves Jake’s room.

Jake is left lying on the floor, covered in blood. I remain glued to the screen, needing to know that he is alive. After a minute, I hear his groan and see him getting up. He hobbles toward the house phone, moving like an old man instead of an athletic young guy.

And then I hear him calling 911.

I sink to the floor and bury my face in my hands.

Julian has won.

I know that my life will never be my own again.

Chapter 11 

When I wake up the next morning, Julian is gone again.

I don’t really remember what happened after I collapsed in Julian’s office yesterday. The rest of the day is fuzzy in my memory. It’s like my brain had switched off, unable to process the violence I had witnessed. I think I vaguely recall Julian picking me up off the floor and bringing me to the shower. He must’ve washed me and bandaged my feet because they’re wrapped in gauze this morning and hurting a lot less when I walk.

I’m not sure if he had sex with me last night. If he did, then he must’ve been unusually gentle because I don’t have any soreness this morning. I do remember sleeping with him in my bed, with his large body curved around mine.

In some ways, what happened simplifies things. When there’s no hope, when there’s no choice, everything becomes remarkably clear. The fact of the matter is that Julian holds all the cards. I’m his for as long as he wishes to keep me. There’s no escape for me, no way out.

And once I accept that fact, my life becomes easier. Before I know it, I have been on the island for nine days.

Beth tells me so over breakfast this morning.

I’ve grown to tolerate her presence. I have no choice—without Julian there, she’s my only source of human interaction. She feeds me, clothes me, and cleans after me. She’s almost like my nanny, except she’s young and sometimes bitchy. I don’t think she’s forgiven me fully for trying to bash her head in. It hurt her pride or something.

I try not to bug her too much. I leave the house during the day, spending most of my time on the beach or exploring the woods. I come back to the house for meals and to pick up a new book to read. Beth told me Julian will bring me more books when I’m done with the hundred or so that are currently in my room.

I should be depressed. I know that. I should be bitter and raging all the time, hating Julian and the island. And sometimes I do. But it takes so much energy, constantly being a victim. When I’m lying in the hot sun, absorbed in a book, I don’t hate anything. I just let myself get carried away by some author’s imagination.

I try not to think about Jake. The guilt is almost unbearable. Rationally, I know Julian is the one who did this, but I can’t help feeling responsible. If I had never gone out with Jake, this would’ve never happened to him. If I hadn’t approached him during that party, he wouldn’t have been savagely beaten.

I still don’t know what Julian is or how he’s able to have such a long reach. He’s as much of a mystery to me today as he’s ever been.

Maybe he’s in the Mafia. That would explain the thugs he has in his employ. Of course, he could simply be a wealthy eccentric with sociopathic tendencies. I truly don’t know.

Sometimes I cry myself to sleep at night. I miss my family, my friends. I miss going out and dancing at a club. I miss human contact. I’m not a loner by nature. Back home, I was always in touch with people—Facebook, Twitter, just hanging out with friends at the mall. I like to read, but it’s not enough for me. I need more.

It gets so bad that I try talking to Beth about it.

“I’m bored,” I tell her over dinner. It’s fish again. I learned that Beth catches it herself near the cove on the other side of the island. This time, it’s with mango salsa. It’s a good thing I’m a seafood fan because I get a lot of it here.

“You are?” She seems amused. “Why? Don’t you have enough books to read?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, I still have seventy or so left. But there’s nothing else to do . . .”

“Want to help me fish tomorrow?” she asks, giving me a mocking look. She knows she’s not my favorite person, and she fully expects me to turn her down immediately. However, she doesn’t realize the extent to which I need human interaction.

“Okay,” I say, obviously surprising her. I’ve never been fishing, and I can’t imagine it’s a particularly fun activity, especially if Beth is going to be snarky the entire time. Still, I’d do just about anything to break the routine at this point.

“Okay, then,” she says. “The best time to catch these fuckers is right around dawn. Think you’re up for it?”

“Sure,” I say. I normally hate waking up early, but I get so much sleep here that I’m sure it won’t be too bad. I probably sleep close to ten hours at night and also catch an occasional nap in the afternoon sun. It’s kind of ridiculous, really. My body seems to think I’m on vacation at some relaxing retreat. There are apparently perks to not having internet or other distractions; I don’t think I’ve felt so well-rested in my entire life.

“Then you better go to sleep soon because I’ll come by your room early,” she warns.

I nod, finishing up my dinner. Then I head upstairs to my room and cry myself to sleep again.

* * *

“When is Julian coming back?” I ask, watching Beth as she carefully arranges the bait at the end of the hook. What she’s doing looks disgusting, and I’m glad she’s not making me help her.

“I don’t know,” Beth says. “He’ll come back when he’s done taking care of business.”

“What kind of business?” I’ve asked this before, but I’m hoping one of these days Beth will answer me.

She sighs. “Nora, stop prying.”

“What’s the big deal if I know?” I give her a frustrated look. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon. I just want to know what he is, that’s all. Don’t you think it’s normal to be curious in my situation?”

She sighs again and casts the lure into the ocean with a smooth, practiced motion. “Of course it is. But Julian will tell you everything himself if he wants you to know.”

I take a deep breath. I’m obviously not going to get anywhere with that line of questioning. “You’re really loyal to him, huh?”

“Yes,” Beth says simply, sitting down beside me. “I am.”

Because he saved her life. I’m curious about that too, but I know she’s touchy on that subject. So instead I ask, “How long have you known him?”

“About ten years,” she says.

“Since he was nineteen?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“How did you two meet?”

Her jaw hardens. “That’s none of your business.”

Uh-huh. I sense I’m again approaching the difficult subject. I decide to proceed anyway. “Was that when he saved your life? Is that how you met him?”

She gives me a narrow-eyed look. “Nora, what did I tell you about prying?”

“Okay, fine . . .” Her non-answer is answer enough for me. I move on to another topic of interest. “So why did Julian bring me here? To this island, I mean? He’s not even here himself.”