Alecia laid her head on Ryder's bare chest and caressed the soft skin of his rippling abs. They had just made love, a new promise, a new life together and perhaps a new life would form in her womb. She scratched her face as something tickled her. Ryder's lips ran along her neck, sending tingles through her. Every part of her filled with the intense pleasure only he could produce in her. Something pressed against her skin, making her eyes pop opened.
She quickly sat up. At her side sat Ryder with her father’s shotgun on his lap. His face void of all emotion except for the darkness in his eyes.
“Daddy,” she screamed out.
“Don’t wake him.”
She looked at her sister who hadn’t even moved. She turned back to him. “What have you done?”
“They’re just sleeping.”
“You drugged them.” Ryder smirked.
A rattling feeling spread through her as he stood and placed the shotgun next to her father. He then placed a note on the nightstand before holding out a hand for her. “Let’s go.”
She shook her head and squeezed the sheets on the bed, leaning back. Ryder grabbed her arms, yanking her off the bed, making her feet crash on the hard floor. Holding one hand, he dragged her to the bedroom door, her feet stumbling after him. She couldn’t let him take her out of the house. She had to fight.
She tugged on her arm while trying to anchor her feet on the floor. “Let go of me,” she screamed. But her feet slid forward, her socks providing no traction. As they passed the dresser, she snatched off a book, raising it to his head.
Ryder spun around and smacked her to the floor – her body slamming hard on the cold wood. She screamed, shielding her cheek with her hand as a sharp sting covered her face – pain searing through her as every part of her went numb and the world around her darkened.
“Want to keep fighting me?” he demanded, balling his hands into fists. “Huh?”
He swept her in his arms and carried her out to his car, placing her in the front seat. He slammed the door.
She curled into a ball and buried her face in her knees -- her face burned, and she could feel each imprint of his fingers. He had crossed that line.
Ryder slipped into the seat next to her and pulled her left hand from her face, pushing her rings on her finger. He then threw her hand back towards her. “Don’t ever take them off again.”
“You hit me,” she whispered.
“Shut up!” He clenched the steering wheel.
“They’ll know I’m gone and.…”
“That’s why you left them a note.”
“They know my handwriting,” she screamed as her body began shaking.
“So do other people.”
She grabbed the door handle and pulled at it but it wouldn’t open.
“I love this car,” he said.
Tears poured down her face. “You’re kidnapping me.”
“Just taking back what’s mine.”
Alecia curled into a ball again and looked out the window as the neighborhood blurred past her. She closed her eyes and recited some of the poems her mother had read to her as a child to herself, but the shaking wouldn’t stop.
After a while, Ryder opened his cell phone, and told his father that he had her, and they were on their way to D.C.. They talked for a couple more minutes, and then he hung up the phone.
He rested his head on his hand against the window. There was no peace in his eyes, just the harsh anger she had come to recognize.
She turned back to the window. The road disappeared in front of her as she caressed her cheek. They didn’t speak at all during the five-hour drive to D.C.. When they arrived, he pulled up to the back of the White House. She looked up at the building she had frequently been in since her marriage, but now the whiteness of it held a daunting touch. He parked in the garage, and got out of the car. She focused on the dashboard as he opened the door, and held out his hand for her.
“Come on, Alecia,” he said, making her flinch.
She took his hand and stepped out of the car. Her feet chilled on the pavement. She wrapped her free arm around herself. She was still in her pajamas, a pair of white shorts, and a tshirt and the air chilled her to the bone. She shook her head. Ryder swept her up into his arms and carried her to a door.
A man in a black suit opened the door. Ryder walked in and dropped her feet first on the floor; grabbing her hand, he led her to an office. He opened the door, revealing his father looking out a window, and Richard sitting on his desk, grasping a few manila folders.
“She doesn’t know anything. I asked her,” Ryder said.
Why did he say that?
Mr. Hendrix turned and walked over to Alecia, holding his hand out to her. Alecia took a step back and turned for the door, but Ryder grabbed her and spun her around so she faced his father. Every inch of her trembled. Something was going on. There had to be more than her just leaving.
Mr. Hendrix reached for her arm and tugged her close to him, making her ram into his chest. He didn’t appear to notice the tears that fell as he placed two hands firmly on her cheeks, and raised her eyes to his.
“Look at my eyes,” he said.
Alecia concentrated on the glare.
“Who is Josh Hockman?”
That name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Who could he have been? “Alecia?”
“Sir, I don’t remember.”
“You don’t,” he said in a soft voice.
“No.”
He squeezed her head. Pain filled her. She gripped his hands as the hair on the back of her neck tingled.
“Did anybody ask you for anything of Ryder's, such as a hair.”
“No, sir.”
Mr. Hendrix studied her eyes before he dropped his hands from her face and sat back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “She’s not lying. I don’t know who did it now. Everybody close to him didn’t give it.”
“I told you.” Ryder wrapped his arms around Alecia's waist and pulled her close to him.
“What is going on?” she whispered.
“Tomorrow, we’ll go to Seattle, and we’ll let them talk to her and Ryder.”
“About what?” Alecia asked.
Mr. Hendrix sliced a hand through the air. “You know nothing, that’s all you need to say.”
“And if they ask why she took off?” Ryder asked.
“Alecia will say, that’s personal and has nothing to do with Hockman.” He paused and glared at her. “Do you understand me?” Mr. Hendrix shouted.
Alecia jumped back against Ryder.
“Take her away.” He waved them off.
Ryder dragged Alecia out the door and into a bedroom with one king size bed draped in white silk sheets. She rubbed her shoulders as a shiver filled her. Tonight she’d be laid out on that altar for his lustful greed. He opened a suitcase, and picked up her white nightgown, handing it to her. And here was her sacrificial gown. Tears brimmed in her eyes. How could he expect her to slip back into the role he had designed for her?
“Please, Alecia.” His eyes were soft - the Jekyll replacing the Hyde.
She took it from his hands, and slipped out of what she was wearing and put it on. Ryder removed the suitcase from the bed, and held out his hand for her. She walked closer to him, and he pulled her down on top of him as he lay on the bed - the touch of his solid body under hers sent prickles through her. He caressed her back with his fingertips, ruffling the gown, and his other hand immersed itself in her hair.
“Go to sleep, my love, you are safe,” he whispered.
Alecia closed her eyes, but her pulse poured through her. He had won. Never would she be free.