Game of the Stepbrothers(5)

My eyes flutter to Marissa, but she seems unbothered by this information. Really, it's as if they're working together somehow, as she doesn't even make a scene or so much as ask him what he's doing, dragging a gagged woman into their house.

Sick fucks.

Aiden comes for me and I let out a muffled cry, but all he does is pull out the rag out of my mouth, a finger raised in warning before my face.

"Still got that scar?" he asks me and I nod slowly, looking up at him with all the hatred in my body.

"Good," he says with an evil grin. "Now if you know what's good for you, you'll keep that mouth nice and shut unless you want another one to join you."

To consolidate his words, he waves a razor in my face and the steel glints in the moonlight. I feel the tears coming through again, realizing how fucked up this whole situation is.

Aiden grabs me by the shoulders next and drags me downstairs where there is an attic. It's cold and damp and I hate it as soon as I see it. I'm sure there are rats here, which I wouldn't even mind, if it meant I could be in their company instead of Aiden's.

"Home sweet home," he rasps in my ear, shoving me on a mattress on the floor. At least it's clean and not smelly, which makes me feel a little bit better. I'm in such a state of shock I don't even manage one scream as he ties me up and stuffs something in my mouth to keep me quiet.

Finally, I'm left gagged and tied up on the mattress as I whimper softly, tears streaming down my face. Aiden steps back to admire his handiwork and smiles like a madman, apparently pleased with what he sees.

Then, his expression changes.

Ever so slowly, he touches his fingers to my cheek, caressing me softly, like I'm not a ragdoll but a porcelain doll, like he's so afraid the lightest touch might break me.

I look up into his eyes and search for feelings there.

But as fast as it appeared on his face, Aiden's expression darkens again. His hand lingers on my cheek, but is now threatening instead of brotherly. And then, he smacks me hard, the blow throwing me back on the mattress.

"You've been a bad girl, Emme," he snarls, the anger in his voice so apparent and scary, it makes me think I won't even make it through the night.

But then, a vicious smile replaces his frown and he pulls up a chair next to my mattress, glaring at me the whole time.

"Have to get a good look at you," he murmurs to himself. "Been a long time."

He settles into his seat, his eyes glued on me, and I know my sleepless nights are here to stay as long as he's around.

Because Aiden Castillo is the stuff nightmares are made from ...

***

I hate the fact that time is passing and no one has come for me. No one knows where I am, or who took me. I think of Blane and how worried he must be and it just breaks my heart, knowing I may never see him again.

I've been in the devil's home for about a day or two now. I have no idea what time it is, my only recollection of time being the times Aiden drags me to the bathroom so I can wash up.

He brings me food downstairs and sits with me all the time.

He hasn't touched me ... yet.

But what he does instead is disturbing, too.

Usually, studios are filled with natural light and the sun shining through the windows. I guess it's a perfect metaphor for his work as Aiden's is in the basement, enveloped in darkness and a putrid smell of something rotting.

He has all of his supplies here, and all day ... he paints me.

He won't show me the paintings, but from his evil grin I just know I wouldn't like them if I saw them. Remembering the last time I saw one of his paintings of me sends shivers down my spine. It was dark, twisted and bloody, my body contorted and broken in unnatural ways only a sick mind could come up with.

While he paints, he talks to me.

He tells me how successful he is under a fake name. Earns millions. With a wicked smile, he tells me Blane and I go to many of his exhibitions, not even knowing it's his. And he's even more pleased to inform me that he was behind the raffle that got us tickets to this hellish paradise. He brought us right into his lair, and we didn't suspect a thing.

Marissa is like his servant, bringing us food and almost kissing the floor he walks on. Their whole relationship is disturbing and I try hard to talk to the girl, but I'm gagged and bound for most of the time, unless I'm eating. When I am, Aiden holds a knife to my throat to stop me from screaming out loud, my tears mixing with the stale food they feed me.

I hate the fact that my worst nightmare has become a reality.

I let the darkness take me, and spend time in a state of semi-consciousness, not even fighting the currents that are pulling me under. I know I won't last long, even though he hasn't touched me, tortured me ... But I know it's coming.

And when it does, I don't want to be here anymore.

Hope comes in the shape of a knock on the door, so loud I can hear it from the basement. My hopeful eyes shoot up, but Aiden immediately yells for Marissa to get it, coming closer to me and pressing that well-known silver blade against my throat.

"Not a word," he hisses in my ear, and I whimper softly, listening to the conversation upstairs.

I hear the door opening and Marissa's voice speaking next. "Can I help you?"

"Hello, Ma'am," a man's voice comes through. "Don't mean to bother you. Just wanted to let you know a woman's gone missing from the island. Have you seen anyone around here?"

"No, not at all," Marissa feigns ignorance. I start thrashing in Aiden's arms, but he presses the blade closer and I feel it cutting my skin, gasping against the gag in my mouth.

"Told you," Blane whispers in my ear. "You let them see you, you're gone."

I turn deathly still in his arms, the tears of humiliation burning my cheeks as they stream downward.

The conversation upstairs becomes muted and we sit there for what seems like ages until I hear Marissa saying goodbye and she comes down the stairs quickly.

"Didn't suspect a thing," she says triumphantly, her eyes feverish with the need to please Aiden. "We're off the hook! He had no idea."

Aiden finally lets go of me and I tumble to the floor like a sack while he walks over to Marissa, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss against her mouth. It's the first sign of affection I've seen him show her since that display on the beach, which I'm now sure was just for my benefit.

Then, he slowly turns towards me, and his eyes are burning with a new desire. My heart blackens with soot as I realize what he has on his mind.

"Now, Emme," he says softly, a grin splitting his face into a grotesque mask of horror. "It's time to play, wouldn't you say?"





Chapter 6


The days are passing, and no one comes for me. I don't understand it at all, and keep hoping someone will remember to check this house, find something that leads them to believe I really am here. But it just doesn't happen.

Aiden is insane, I've come to realize this now and once and for all. The slightest thing will throw him off guard. I'm getting sick in the damp and cold basement, and once, I sneezed while he was painting me. It sent him in an insane rage and he tore the canvas he was working on, before coming towards me, his fists ready to strike.

He seemed to calm down some when I raised my hands in front of my face to protect myself. "Don't," he told himself, his voice painfully raspy. I think it was the first thing he said that day, being too caught up in his art and his mad mind. "Mustn't hurt her. Need her perfect."

He still punished me, though. Because I sneezed and interrupted his creative process, I was left without food for an entire day. All I got was water.

The food I get is sparse anyway, and I ended up passing out with the pains of my rumbling stomach. I woke up hours later, or at least what felt like that. There's no telling what time it is in this dungeon I'm kept in.

I tried hard to connect with Marissa, but she always refused to meet my eye. I finally see my chance when she comes in with some food and Aiden is out somewhere, so it's just the two of us.

I see my chance and my voice is raspy when I call out to her. "Marissa," I say pleadingly.

She completely ignores me and I reach for her hand hesitantly, my fingers trembling as I grasp her wrist. It's one of the few days when I'm not gagged and I know this might be my only chance.

"Marissa, we need to get out of here," I say finally, hot tears already streaming down my cheeks. "We can get help ... You and me, we'll do it together. We don't have to suffer like this."

She actually ponders my words for a moment, and for a second I think I've gotten through to her and she might actually consider helping me. But then, she rips her hand away from mine and slaps me so hard I fall back on the stained mattress.

"Don't touch me," she hisses at me, but her bottom lip is trembling and I think she's on the verge of crying, too. "Don't ever touch me. Aiden is right ... he's always right."

Why does your sentence sound like a question, then? I wonder sadly.

I don't have a chance to say anything else after that, and when Aiden returns, I immediately know she told him what I said. He storms down the stairs and as soon as he reaches me, he slaps me, too. My cheek is still burning with the impact Marissa's hand made on me and now it stings even more. I curl into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest. I've never felt more hopeless in my entire life.

Aiden is strange today. He doesn't paint, just pulls up a chair next to me and stares at me. Every so often, he runs a finger down my skin, taunting me. It scares me more than when he's painting, because at least he's taking it out on the canvas, not me. And as the day goes on, I feel the tension building up in the room. I know he's going to explode, and I'm dreading the consequences of one of us setting him off.