Chapter 7

I tried to refuse Steven, but when he pulled out his gun, all protests died. He handed me a black dress and stiletto heels and told me to be wearing them when he came to get me in five minutes; his tone told me that refusing was not an option and he unlocked my chains so I could change. He left the room, then, and his skinhead followers went too. After the door closed Zack and I heard the sound of a key in a lock, and then two sets of footsteps walked away. One of the guards stayed outside the door, presumably to guard us from leaving.

Once they were gone, I turned to Zack, pleading. He tried to touch my face, but his hands were bound by the handcuffs, and he couldn't. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I will get us out of here, I promise. Just give me time to think."

"I know, I trust you. I'm scared though, but I guess I should change before he comes back." I held the dress up and motioned for Zack to turn around while I changed. I stripped off my uniform, and pulled the dress over my bra and underwear. The dress was a size too small, pulling tightly around my mid-section, and pushing my chest together tighter than anything I had worn before. It flowed down lightly skimming over my backside, and swirling out to just above my knees. I guess it looked good on me from the way Zack stared when I finally let him turn around, but I couldn't see it, because there was no mirror in the room where we were kept.

Five minutes later Steven came back into the room, and took my hand to lead me out. I snatched my hand from his and crossed my arms over my chest as I followed him out the door. As we passed through the halls I made sure to memorize the landmarks and turns we passed and made, in case I had to go this way again on my own. He led me down the halls to swinging doors that led into a dark dining room. If my situation hadn't been so frightening I would have cracked a joke about the extensive amount of mood-setting he had taken in the room.

The lights were low, and there were candles on a table that was set for two. There was a vase of Lilies of the Valley in between the candles, my favorite flowers were Calla Lilies, but Steven had never cared for the distinction between the two. There was another door coming into the room, and next to it was a large canvas painting that I vaguely recognized as one of my own from when I lived in California. Steven led me to my chair and pulled it out for me, and went to sit in his own chair at the other end of the table. He snapped his fingers and immediately one of his skinhead clones placed a plate of food in front of me, and one in front of Steven. The food vaguely resembled Fettuccini Alfredo with shrimp in it, and while I'm not a full on vegetarian, I can't stand the idea of eating food that has a face on it, which is basically every seafood known to man.

I grimaced at the shrimp, and pushed the plate away, "I don't eat seafood."

"You will eat it," Steven said sharply, "While you are here you will learn to do as I say, when I say. Now eat your food."

"I told you, I don't eat seafood. And I don't plan on doing anything you or anyone else here tells me to do." I pushed the plate away from me, and when the skinhead put it back in front of me I knocked it off the table like a child. Both the skinhead and Steven rushed for the plate as it hit the ground, but neither of them could catch it in time. The skinhead cleaned up the plate and food as Steven went into the kitchen for something. While both backs were turned I grabbed the steak knife Steven had set my place at the table with and shoved it down the front of my dress (it was the only place where Steven wouldn't find it).

Steven came back from the kitchen with another plate in his hand. When he set it down in front of me I recognized the same Alfredo that I had just knocked off the table, with the shrimp still in it. This too, I knocked off the table, childishly, but effectively as neither the skinhead nor Steven saw it coming and it splattered all over the floor next to the table. This time I got more of a reaction than the first time, as Steven reached over the table and backhanded me across the face. The hit was hard and unexpected and it knocked me back in my chair, and drew blood from my lip.

I was still trying to dab the blood from my lip with my napkin when Steven grabbed me by the arm and hauled me away from the table. He dragged me out of the room and down the hall to another room. This second room was completely white, with no furniture or anything on the walls. Normally white wouldn't have bothered me, but there was something about the too-bright whiteness of the walls and too-barren emptiness of the room that made it feel … bad, ugly, wrong. Bad things happened in this room, I could feel it, and something bad was going to happen to me if I stayed in this room. But what do I do? I wondered. The knife was still in the front of my dress, but I couldn't get to it with Stevens hand gripping my arms so tightly behind my back.

Steven closed the door to the room behind him, and threw me down onto the ground. Scared, I rolled into the corner of the room, and kept my back to him as I tried to fish the knife out of my tight dress. I am not a busty girl, but in that dress it felt like it, and probably looked like it too, and that knife was not coming out easily.

I could feel Steven stalking up behind me and because I was in the corner I had nothing to do but turn and face him. He raised his hand, and backhanded me across the face again, this time forcing me closer to the wall and further into the corner.

"How dare you embarrass me in front of my men?" Steven turned and paced to the other end of the room. While his back was turned I once again tried to shimmy the knife out of my dress but it was no use. The knife and fallen between my breasts to the tightest part of the dress, the torso, and there was no way I was getting to it, short of taking off the dress, which I absolutely refused to do. I would just have to wait for it to find its own way out, but in the meantime I had to find some other way to defend myself.

Steven turned back to pace towards me again, and I remembered to horrible stiletto heels he had made me wearing. The damn things were painful as no other, but they were long and sharp, which was as much of a weapon as I would need to get Steven to leave me alone. I had known Steven most of my life, and he might be a loud talker, but he was all bark and no bite, as far as I was concerned. He had gotten into a few fights in middle school, but nothing serious, and he was always the one dubbed as the loser. He didn't look like he had buffed up all that much since I had last seen him, but judging from the last time I had seen him he was pretty strong. Not quite as strong as me, and not quite as intimidating without the gun, but still. He paced back over until he was right in front of me, and then he stopped. He still looked like he would hit me if I provoked him, but he also looked hurt, like by throwing the food on the ground I had personally wounded his feelings. Well good, he deserved it.

"I worked so hard, brought you here, tried to make you comfortable, and provide food for you that I thought you would enjoy, and you respond by throwing it on the floor?" Either he was a really good actor, or he actually thought there was any way that I would have enjoyed my time there.

"Worked hard to bring me here? Tried to make me comfortable? Food that I would like? You waved a gun in my face, chained me to a wall, and tried to force me to eat seafood, which I have never eaten. You did none of this to please me or to comfort me or anything. You did all of this because you were pissed that I wouldn't go out with you and you need to prove you worth. Well how about this, you're worthless!" I spat the last words as harshly as I could, and he responded by slapping me once again across the face. By the time I got out of here, my face would be black and blue.

He turned and paced back to the other end of the room, and while his back was turned I quickly unstrapped my heels, and held them behind my back. Behind my back I broke the heel off of one of them, and threw the rest away from me. Steven didn't react to me throwing the shoes away and just turned back to pace the room back towards me. I palmed the heel, holding the thickest part in my hand, with the thin sharp point sticking out of my closed fist. When he was in front of me once again, he stepped closer to me, forcing me even further into the corner, until my back was against the wall. But even then he kept coming, closer and closer until he was touching me, pushing me back as far into the corner as humanly possible, and even more so. I gripped the heel in my fist as tightly as possible, close to my leg so the swirling fabric of my dressed hid it if Steven happened to look down.

But he didn't look like he was going to be looking down anytime soon, he was staring intently at my cleavage. The tight dress pushed my breasts tighter together and higher up than any normal teenage girl should be wearing, and his chest pressed into mine so that they were practically bursting out of the dress. It was disgusting to watch both at him and at myself, breathing quick and hard and making my cleavage even more noticeable. He stared down at my chest, and then up into my eyes, trying, I'm sure, to smother me with his own, to make me swoon and beg for him, but it didn't work. When he leaned into kiss me, I kept my eyes open and staring at the ceiling; when he tried to shove his tongue into my mouth, I kept my lips tightly shut; but when he tried to fondle my ass is when I shoved my heel into his chest. The three inch heel did not go very deep into his chest, and probably would not cause life-threatening damage, but it was enough to make Steven cry out in pain, loud enough that his skinheads came barging into the room and pulled me away from him.

When I was shoved back into the chain room, Zack was asleep. I checked the watch on his wrist as I was chained back to the wall and saw that I had been away for over three hours. My uniform had been taken away, and I was left in the dress, with no shoes now that I had thrown them away. There was a tray by the door, that held a plate with scraps of bread and a cup with drops of water. Well at least one of us got to eat I thought as I sat down against the wall and tried to sleep. Eventually I managed to fall asleep, but it wasn't very fitful or comfortable.

The next morning I woke up with my head on Zack's lap, and Zack's chained hands stroking my face.

"I'll kill him. I'll kill him I swear to God."

"Unh," Oh my God, what if I have morning breath? I sat up straight, then remembered what happened last night. "Ahh." I winced as I touched my face, remembering just how hard and how many times Steven slapped me last night. "All because of stupid pasta."


"I said: 'all because of stupid pasta.' I wouldn't eat his stupid Shrimp Alfredo, and he hit me. Twice. Then he hit me a third time for yelling at him. I probably deserved the third one, but ow!"

"I'll kill him. I swear to God, I'll murder the poor bastard. Your dad is going to kill me for letting this happen."

"So what exactly are you more upset about, the fact that you convinced me to cut school and we ended up getting kidnapped, or the fact that you failed in your duty as my bodyguard? Because frankly, I think you should be more upset about the fact that this is the same psycho who tried to rape me less than a month ago, only now he has friends!" I don't know why I was so upset with Zack, but for some reason, being chained to a frigging wall was pissing me off beyond belief.

"Hey, this is not my fault! How was I supposed to know that your psycho ex-boyfriends wanted to steal and rape you for his own need to be manly? It's not my fault you have crappy taste in guys." I think he was trying to lighten the mood a little; apparently being locked in the dungeon and chained to a wall didn't affect him quite as much as it affected me.

"I know, I know. I don't blame you. I'm just a little pissy about being locked in a dungeon and chained to a wall. The fact that my psycho ex is the one to captured me just makes my life that much better," I took a deep breath. "And it's not your fault that we're here, if anything it's the bodyguards who let you help me cut school's fault."

"It's okay. Let's just try to find a way out of here. In the meantime would you mind telling me what happened to your shoes?"

I didn't see Steven at all that day, nor the next, but some of his skin heads came into the room at various times to bring us food. The food always contained a hunk of bread, and a cup of water. But for breakfast there was some type of oatmeal-like thing, and for lunch and dinner there was a hunk of some type of meat. There was only ever one tray for the two of us, so Zack ate the bread, and I ate the meat.

By the second day, I had managed to shimmy the knife out of my tight dress, but neither of us had anything to do with it. It was too dull to cut through the chains, but it was too wide to try to pick the locks. Nonetheless, we held onto it, just in case it posed some use in the future.

For a week we were stuck in the dungeon, with no one but each other for company. To anyone else, this would have seemed like a perfect opportunity to get to know each other and, you know, grow closer and stuff like that. But for me and Zack, it was just a chance for us to argue and blame each other for being kidnapped.

By the seventh day in the dungeon, I realized the total cliché of it all, and laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?" Zack asked from across the room. It didn't sound like he was so interested in hearing the answer, just that he was so tired and weary that he had nothing else to do.

"I was just thinking about how completely cliché this whole situation is," I said with a chuckle, fading back into silence.

Zack was quite for a while and I thought he had dropped the conversation, but a few minutes later he spoke again, "How?"

"Well, come on. I mean, here we are, one girl kidnapped by the psycho-maniac whose peeved because he didn't get the girl. One ex-drug addict also kidnapped while trying to protect said girl. One psycho-maniac pissed off because he didn't get the girl in high school, out to right his wrongs. Both kidnapees chained to the wall getting served bread and water and undistinguishable foods. I'll be damned if this isn't the most cliché situation I've ever been in." I chuckled again, but got no response from Zack. We fell into silence again, but this time he didn't interrupt it with more questions.