Chapter 43

Three days later, Tyler still had not returned, and though he called her at night, the anticipation and the waiting almost suffocated her. Mary was stressed and anxious.

A minute later, one of the guards offered to bring her milk from the kitchen, which she had prepared earlier, as Mary uttered her thanks. After her warm milk and vitamins were taken, she went to the veranda, sunbathed, and fell asleep.

Unbeknownst to her, a dark figure behind her smiled. Mary had taken the milk that was mixed with drugs. The man left and waited until she was fully asleep.

By then, Mary sighed and opened her eyes with an unknown feeling she couldn't fathom; she felt warm and heated. Then, starting at the broad swell of her hips, she ran her hands over the soft, honey-coloured skin of her body. She felt the softness of her belly with the tips of her fingers and then cupped her tight breasts in her hands. She dreamily fingered the stiff points of her nipples and savoured the gently insistent heartbeat throb that seemed to connect her puckered teats and her suddenly attentive clitoris. She sighed, her mind no longer hers.

At the very moment she decided to move back into the house, perhaps to surrender to her carnal urges, she suddenly realised that she wasn't alone. There, standing by the small terrace shed, entirely immobile, stood her husband, Tyler Johnson. "Tyler?" Why was he here? Today was his grandfather's funeral, right? "Why are you here?" she mumbled softly.

Tyler just looked at him like he did not recognise her.

Why?

The shock of realisation burst across Mary's senses, and she gasped involuntarily. She thought something was wrong—that she was perfectly framed in the doorway and that Tyler had observed her nudity and intimate caresses while he stood there immobile.

Why was he just watching her? Why was he not talking?

Was she hallucinating?

Even in the shock and surprise of the moment, Mary's mind jumped forward in a surreal moment of lucidity. She was aware of his blue, pale eyes surveying her intently, as if he did not recognise her. "Tyler?"

Was she dreaming? Why does it feel like this was just a dream? But was it a reality at the same time? Somehow, she sensed that he meant her no harm, and in fact, the presence of his black leather laptop bag on his shoulders indicated that she had probably caught him by surprise just as he was leaving and was making his exit when she had framed herself so candidly in the doorway.

It was remarkable how the presence of her husband caused her no trouble at all; even the fact that she was standing on the terrace bare as the day she was born didn't feel like much of an effect on Mary. Yet, having made no noise during the night or even given any sign that she was aware of her, Boxy the Labrador dog gave a belated 'chuff' and jogged over to Tyler with his tail sweeping from side to side in greeting. But why does it feel like Tyler hasn't seen her? Was she dreaming?

Tyler spoke as Boxy sniffed at his legs inquisitively. 'I'm sorry for leaving you, Mary, but I need to be alone for now.' he confessed, and Mary found herself quietly mesmerised by the pale blue of his eyes. His eyes fascinated her so entirely that she thoroughly forgot her nakedness, and she simply gazed back at him quietly. Tyler unconcernedly fluttered the fur on Boxy's head and held Mary's eye for a moment. 'I'm sorry,' he recited. 'I will never love you, Mary. You are only here because of my heir. I want my child.' He leaned, picked up the laptop bag, and, with Boxy dancing around his heels, made his exit.

What?

What was that? Why does it hurt? But why was she not crying? Or asking something? And why does it look like she was too dizzy and wanted to puke the milk she had earlier? Why did it feel like her brain wanted her to scream for help and run away so fast?

However, Mary stood transfixed for long seconds after Tyler had gone. She had found him deeply confusing, not for explanations of his words but for the way in which she felt drawn to him. Why was he here? She felt as though Tyler was somehow connected to her, as though there was some bond between them. The memory of his blue-green eyes penetrated her, and it was only the feel of Boxy's fluffy fur against her legs that ultimately roused Mary from her trance. When she returned to the here and now, she realised that she had exposed her completely bare body to him and that she had made no undertaking whatsoever to cover her nakedness. Her face reddened at the memory, and the flush crept down her neck and shoulders as her humiliation worsened.

'Some bloody guard dog you are, Boxy,' she scolded the dog playfully and then caressed the top of his furry head.

Then suddenly, Mary felt a surprising headache, like she had been hit by a huge hummer, her heart beating so fast. It was like something inside her wanted out, her veins warming, something inside her creeping into her every thought, and then she knew her mind wasn't hers anymore. The scene changed. Now she walked along the shore after leaving the terrace. Tyler was just so glorious standing there earlier. She had caught him off guard. Just as she was making what she hoped would be a reasonable morning, he'd arrived on the back veranda with perfect timing. At first, she thought she'd been caught and that he'd noticed she was completely naked as she froze on the spot, but with a sudden outburst, Mary's eyes peeled open, the lids grating her eyeballs like sandpaper. The darkness didn’t dispel...

She blinked more rapidly to rid her mind of the fog and, she hoped, the inability to see, but it was no use. She knew she was awake now, and she was no longer on the terrace sleeping, although it was still morning. Something was seriously wrong, and she could feel it like a second skin while hearing her heartbeat so fast.

It took another few seconds for her to feel the bag wrapped around her head and neck. In the pervasive haze filling her vision and thoughts, she hadn’t noticed it at first.

The next thing she realised was the restricting pain in her wrists and ankles. She was apprehended, and she was in pain.

Tied to a chair, she thought. With a bag over her head, it was too dark, and she had a hard time breathing. And she wondered who she pissed.

She had no memory of what transpired or who could have done this, but one thought kept resonating in her mind: She’d kill whoever was responsible. Her child. 'Oh my God.' She thought about her baby. At that moment, she knew she had been drugged and was hallucinating.

Her muscles strained against her bonds over and over, until she understood it was an exercise in futility. Whoever had fastened the knots wasn’t fooling around. They intended to keep her precisely where she was. Kidnapped? Yes, someone kidnapped her, but who drugged her?

That brought up another question: where was she anyway?

For the time being, there was no way to know.

A door creaked from somewhere across the void, and she sat up a little straighter.

“I see you’re awake,” a woman’s voice mumbled. Her accent was distinctly English and refined, possibly raised by a distinguished class that had always planned tea time every day of their lives.

Mary didn’t answer. Her only acknowledgment was an intense scowl the woman could not yet see.

The woman just smirked at her and said, “I’m sure you have a thousand questions running through that pretty head of yours. Why are you here? Who brought you? Where is here?"She laughed. "Right? Mary?"

"Who are you?" Mary exclaimed with all her might.

"Well, shall I punch you in the belly? Or how should you get rid of your baby?"

"Please no!" Mary pleaded.

"Alright, I suppose you’re going to give me some answers?” the woman spat through clenched teeth.

The black sack on her head was unexpectedly yanked away, and she looked up to find herself in a tiny oval-shaped room, enclosed by cinder blocks and a white ceiling and floor. A single fluorescent light gave off the only illumination in the room and enhanced the harsh feeling of filth—and privacy.

"Elizabeth?"