2: Hell

It had been roughly four days since she woke up in Martien van Bijvank's home back in North Carolina. Martien had been avoiding her on all occasions outside of taking care of her physical state. She figured it had something to do with his aversion to showing weakness and the bout of hysterics he'd undergone shortly after she'd first regained consciousness.

The rest of the time she had been alone with her thoughts inside of their bedroom, trying to remember just how she had come to be there. The very last thing she remembered before whatever "explosion" must have happened- she was in the car with Adriel.

The worst part is that they had just had an argument. She couldn't remember for the life of her what it was about or where they had been driving- she just knew that he was avoiding her eyes and she had turned her entire body away from him. Still, she could feel his hand on top of hers, squeezing every so often to let her know that he still loved her. There were so many little things about Adriel that Yanire treasured- and that was one of them. Even when he was furious, she knew that he still loved her.

  It was its own hell- knowing the last memory you may have with a loved one could be an argument. She began to promise herself that if she ever saw him again, the first thing she would do is crush him to her chest so tightly it bruised. 

The stairs outside the dusty white bedroom door creaked slightly and Yanire was certain by the weight of it that Martien was there. She waited a moment, bracing herself. Only, he never came into the room. The woman eyed the door suspiciously, slowly growing uncertain of whether or not she'd heard it correctly.

Soon enough there was another soft creak and Yanire suspected Martien had gone back down the stairs to the first floor. Strange. She adjusted the free arm to pull the thick blanket tighter around herself, burying her face as much as she could. She had found herself sleeping a lot more than usual. She denied it often to maintain her sanity- but secretly she hoped if she went to sleep enough times that she'd wake up and it would all be a bad dream.

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The next time Yanire woke up, there was a strange feeling in her chest and she quickly yanked herself awake, scanning her immediate surroundings with untrusting eyes. The air in the bedroom was thick with silence and tension, as though someone else had been there only moments before. Her shoulders drew close to her and the muscles tightened. 

She'd developed a suspicion over the last few hours that Martien had been creeping into the room while she slept. To do what- she tried not to think of. Now though, she was beginning to grow insane from the back and forth. 

Being in his vicinity at all was the equivalent of being in a pot of boiling water but it was somehow worse to think of him being around her only when she was completely dead to the world. Afterall, he already had every other advantage. 

"Jeez."

The words came out in a breath and she pinched the bridge of her nose. She could feel a headache edging closer and she had needed to use the restroom for an hour or two now. She'd discovered since being in the man's captivity that restroom visits were quite an excursion and awkward to say the very least. 

"Martien."

The name was just about as sticky as the rest of him in her mind. It didn't slide off the tongue easily and it didn't diminish, but hung in the air like humidity on a hot day. He quickly found himself in the room with her, eyes lingering on her in that animalistic way that they often did lately. Yanie felt like throwing up. 

"I need to use the restroom."

He nodded and moved over to the bedside slowly, hands fingering the necklace he wore under his shirts. Yanire had come to learn that was where the key to her cuffs stayed and she shivered to wonder what anyone else made of the matter if they noticed in his regular life. 

He unattached the side connected to the bed and held it tightly in his hand instead, allowing her opposing leg to be freed nonetheless. The proximity to him as she stood up made her feel even more sickly than before. He moved her to the restroom of their bedroom, following her through the open door and attaching the cuff to the toilet paper holder, turning to look at her for a moment before he stepped out of the restroom. 

He didn't go as far as to watch her do the rest, but he stood just outside the slightly open door, an ever-present shadow amidst her life whom she'd never wanted. When he heard the sound of the sink he admitted himself back in and watched while she cleaned her hands and splashed some of the cool water on her face. When her movements stopped, he disconnected her from the toilet paper holder and led her back to the bed, redoing all her restraints quickly. 

Once she was secured again, he moved to the restroom and shut the door entirely.

"Do you need anything else?"

Yanire thought to request medicine for the headache but shook her head instead, trying to let sleep overcome her. It wasn't unlikely that he would deny her request but it was instead her fear that he would hold the request against her later and try to make her "repay" him. The man stood inside of the room for far too long before turning and hedging back downstairs, locking the door behind him. Yanire had noticed that Martien never forgot to lock the door. 

Her chances of escape were very, very slim. 

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