Chapter 47: NOW - The Safe Room

During the night, I notice Peter checking his phone more often. It dawns on me that he’s hoping for another show. But now I believe withholding my sexuality is more powerful than giving it to him because I know how much he loves to watch me. Maybe if I don’t give him a show, he’ll come down here to try and get one.

I yawn and rub my eyes. If only I could find the magic key to manipulating him. There has to be something. Mummy issues. Daddy issues. Something.

A dead father and an overbearing mother who recently died. Did she fixate the way he did? There were times when she told Peter I’d be good for him. I can’t shake the feeling that Mary was almost as obsessed with me as her son was. Or at least she seemed connected to my family, especially as Mum’s best friend.

Maybe I can use that somehow.

I watch Sophie sleeping. Another wave of panic floods my veins. If Sophie tries to escape again, he might go even further next time. And I’d have to watch it all.

I’d rather die than watch her suffer.

The thought is fleeting but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I shake it away. The captivity is getting to me. It stinks down here. Every surface is clammy with condensation, but the air is still freezing cold. I can’t sleep because of the plip-plopping of water and the constant whirring of the fan. I never turn the lights off and am never in darkness. I want my house back.

After dawn breaks, Peter lets Sophie out of her room and spends the morning making pancakes, perhaps in some attempt at contrition. She flinches away from him every time he comes close to her.

I move my body, stretching first, followed by as much exercise as I can manage in the small space. It’s important to eat, too. So far, I’ve raided the protein bars and crisps. None of it has any taste and I have no desire to eat, but I know I need to keep up my strength.

I imagine what it would be like to fight Peter and Emily. I have no doubt that I could easily win against Emily. She’s shorter and weighs less than I do. But Peter is different. Not only is he bulkier than before, but he carries himself like a man who now knows how to fight. I wonder if he learned in prison, or if he has been to self-defence classes too.

I’m in the middle of holding the plank position when I hear Peter’s voice.

“What are you doing?”

Sweat drips onto the floor as I stand. “I’m exercising, Peter. I don’t want to get sick while I’m down here in a small space. I need to keep my body moving.”

“Okay.”

His voice sounds low, almost defeated, or even bored. He’s had enough of playing daddy after two whole days. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a terrifying thing.

“You must be mad at me after what happened yesterday,” he says. “You’re soft-hearted, I know that. But she had to be punished.”

“I don’t want anyone laying a finger on my child,” I say. “Please do not do that again, or I’ll be very disappointed.”

I freeze, close to the door, wondering if I’ve gone too far. My tone almost sounded like a schoolteacher or annoyed mother.

“Punishment is important, Amber.”

“Is it?”

His chair grates across the concrete. I glance at the screen to see him approaching the door.

“What do you think of me, Amber?”

I pause. I don’t know what to say. I can’t be honest, but I also can’t be sycophantic because he’ll sniff it out.

“I think you’re a very complex man.” I glance at the camera again, watching him press his body up against the door. “I think you’re someone who loved his mother and listened to her opinions. I think you’re hardworking and tough, but you’re also quite dark. And you need to let me go before all of this gets out of hand.”

He laughs. “Well, I think you’re perfect. I always have. Your eyes, like the sea. Your hair, like ripples of chocolate. Your voice is very sexy, you know. It isn’t quite the same as when we first met, but it’s still nice.” He sighs slowly. “You have no idea how painful it has been all these years to love you so deeply and not see it returned.”

I’m about to move the conversation onto his mother, but his voice changes, turning gruff. “I saw you yesterday. Washing yourself. Was that just for me?” I hear the sound of his zip being pulled down and turn away in disgust.

But I can use this. I know I can.

“I know what you’re doing out there, Peter. And… well, it’s kind of flattering. You know, if you open the door, you can touch me,” I taunt. “Don’t you think I’d be nice to touch? Soft and warm?”

He moans.

I step away. I can’t do this. I… I can’t. If he opens that door, chances are he’ll rape me. Am I really bargaining with myself like this? Rape I can survive if it means I can get out and find Sophie.

I grab a tin from the shelf and hide it behind my back.

Then he lets out a second moan, and I hear him sniff before moving away from the door.

“It’s a shame you don’t look like you did when we first met,” he says. “I miss those innocent eyes of yours. The Amber back then wouldn’t tease me like that. I’m not sure what you are now but you’ve had too much experience with other men.”

I’m stunned for a moment. Could it be that his ultimate fantasy of having me under his control is a disappointment for him?

I steady my voice. “I’m still the same girl I was back then.”

He laughs. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“I’m still afraid,” I try, wondering if that’s the version he wants.

“Oh, I know that.”

I bristle at the sound of this smug tone.

“Your mother always liked me.”

“So?”

Shit, I think. Maybe that wasn’t the best tactic. I try sympathy.

“It must have been hard when she passed away. I know what it’s like to grieve someone. It can make you do things that are out of character.”

“She was a wise woman,” he says.

“Did she ever come to visit me? You know, like when you’d visit me over the years?”

“Yeah, sometimes she’d drive me places. She used to say, ‘you can look at her one more time, but then you have to move on, Petey. This isn’t good for you.’.”

My skin turns red hot with anger. So she did egg him on or at least pander to him.

“Peter, listen to me. Why not end all of this? I don’t think it’s what you want, I think you’re in the middle of grief and not thinking straight. You don’t really want to be a dad or a husband, do you? Look at me. I’m a washed-up widow. And I’m so vanilla and bland I go to bed before ten and I don’t even date. You could never make a life with me. But Emily… she’s on your wavelength. She’s wild and free just like you are. So why not leave with her? You don’t even need to let me out, just walk out the door with Emily and never look back. Sophie can get me help. She’s smart, she’ll know what to do. Please Peter. I bet the snow is melting already. Soon I’ll be expected at work. Yvonne checks up on me. My in-laws will call to speak to Sophie. You can’t keep this up⁠—”

A fist slams against the door. “Shut your fucking mouth you fucking whore. What makes you think you can tell me what to do?” He waits, expecting an answer but I stay quiet. He exhales through his nose and seems to step away, his footsteps scuffing the concrete. “I can’t stand you women. Always in my ear, trying to make me be someone else. First Mum, then you, and now Emily.”

I let out a scoffing sound. “I’ve barely spoken to you in nineteen years.”

“You don’t know me, Amber. I’m not some weak little boy you can boss around like that husband of yours. I’m a real man and you will respect me. What do you say to a real man?”

“What?” I ask incredulously.

“You say ‘yes sir’ to a real man. Isn’t that right?”

I press my lips tightly together.

“Say it, Amber. Say it.”

Another fist slams against the metal and my entire body shudders.

“Say it, or your brat of a kid gets another spanking.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Again.”

“Yes, sir.”

He lets out a shuddering breath. “Good girl.”

After he leaves, I throw up in the toilet.