Anna Zaires - Twist Me

Still clutching the rock, I sneak into the kitchen and find another knife. Holding both, I carefully head upstairs.

Beth’s bedroom is the first one on the left. I know because she showed it to me during the house tour.

Holding my breath, I quietly push open the door . . . and freeze.

Sitting there on the bed is the person I fear most.

Julian.

He’s back early.

“Hello, Nora.”

His voice is deceptively soft, his perfect face expressionless. Yet I can feel the rage burning quietly underneath.

For a second, I just stare at him, paralyzed by terror. I can’t hear anything but the roaring of my own heartbeat in my ears. And then I start to back away, still keeping my eyes trained on his face. My hands are raised defensively in front of me, rock and knife clutched tightly in each.

At that moment, steely hands grip my arms from behind, painfully squeezing my wrists. I scream, struggling, but Beth is too strong. The knife twists backward in my hand, nearly reaching my shoulder.

In a flash, Julian is on me, and both the knife and the rock are wrenched out of my hands. Beth releases me and Julian grabs me, holding me tightly as I scream and writhe hysterically in his arms.

The harder I fight, the tighter his arms become around me, until I go limp, almost fainting from lack of air.

Then he picks me up and carries me out of Beth’s room.

To my surprise, he brings me downstairs and stops in front of the door that leads to his office. A tiny panel opens on the side, and I can see a red light moving over Julian’s face, like a laser at a supermarket checkout.

Then the door slides open.

I stifle a gasp of surprise. His office door opens via a retina scan—something I’ve only seen before in spy movies.

As he carries me inside, I try to struggle again, but it’s futile. His arms are completely immovable, holding me securely in his grip.

I’m once again helpless in his embrace.

Tears of bitter frustration slide down my face. I hate being so weak, so easily handled. He’s not even winded from our struggle.

I’m not sure what I’m expecting him to do. Perhaps beat me, or brutally take me.

But he simply places me on my feet when we’re inside his office.

As soon as he releases me, I take a few steps back, needing to put at least some distance between us.

He smiles at me, and there’s something disturbing in the beauty of that smile. “Relax, my pet. I won’t hurt you. Not now, at least.”

And as I watch, he walks over to a large desk and slides open the drawer, taking out a remote control. Then he points it at a wall behind me.

I turn around warily and stare at two large flat-panel TV screens. They look very high-tech, not at all like the ones I’m used to seeing at home.

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.

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