… solipsubmissive …

This is a continuation; you might wish to follow this link to the beginning:  Part 1  

Stephen walked quietly up the corridor to his bedroom, half expecting to see Elizabeth at any time.  He’d left the guard, by whom she’d already managed to slip once, outside the door to the media room, threatening him with more than just his job if she managed it again. 

A threat by Stephen, even one not specific, was not something anyone who knew him took lightly.

 When he entered the bedroom, his eyes immediately settled on the slightly open door to the media room.  He sighed and picked up the telephone on his nightstand, pressed a single digit.  “Search the house,” he said when someone picked up.  “Nobody in or out until she’s found.”  He replaced the receiver. 

He doubted she’d been able to get anywhere.  There hadn’t been enough time for her to find the key that unlocked his bedroom door, run through his room, down the corridor and down the stairs.  The most she could possibly have done is to duck into one of the other rooms off the hallway.  In which case, it was only a matter of time before they found her.  He closed his bedroom door and began searching the room.

Elizabeth huddled quietly in the corner, listening for any sound from the other side.  Disjointed images kept flashing into her mind, things she’d suppressed.  She covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a terrified whimper.  Had they been suppressed, she wondered … or removed?  And though she tried to stop it, though she tried to keep her mind from going there, the memory that had originally made her bolt from the room in which she’d been imprisoned filtered up through the protective layers of conditioning to coalesce into horrifying clarity.

***

She had planned on a quick trip to Destin with her friends after graduation.  A long weekend in the sun, drinks by the pool.  A general wind down before they all scattered to begin their lives as educated, responsible adults.  At the last minute, as she approached the place where Interstate 12 met Interstate 10, she took the exit that would lead her south, across Lake Pontchartrain and into New Orleans.  Her grandparents weren’t expecting her, but she’d decided to spend the weekend with them instead of in Florida.

They’d raised her after her mother died, taking her in without qualm or question.  Her father had been mostly absent in all of her young life, and she’d never known her maternal grandparents, didn’t even know if she had any.  When she’d reached the age to ask, her grandmother had simply said her mother had been an orphan.  Elizabeth had accepted the explanation with little more than a mild sense of curiosity.

She noticed the gates were open when she turned off the street and onto the long drive that wound through the trees and up to the estate.  She frowned and reached for her cell phone, flipped it open and hesitated, her thumb poised to press the single digit and the send key that would change her visit from a surprise to one that was known.  She pulled around the corner and saw a car parked just in front of the entrance. 

Feeling silly, she flipped the phone closed again and slipped it into her handbag.  Her grandmother likely had a friend in for tea.  She pulled up behind the red Jaguar and parked, anticipatory pleasure washing through her.  Smiling, she skipped up the steps to the front door, opened it and went inside.

“Grandma?”  Elizabeth tossed her keys and her handbag on a long table in the entryway.  “I know I didn’t call, but I decided I’d rather spend the weekend with you than with the girls in Florida.”  Her voice echoed through the foyer, then stilled.  The house was silent.

Great.  They weren’t home. 

With a small sigh, Elizabeth mounted the stairs to her old room.  A shower, she decided.  She’d take a shower and get settled.  If they weren’t home by the time she finished, she’d give them a call and decide whether or not to go to Florida after all.

Just as she reached her bedroom, she heard a noise coming from her grandparent’s suite at the end of the hall.  Smiling happily, she walked down the corridor, knocked once softly, and pushed open the door.  “Hey there,” she said, then stopped in horror.

Her grandfather’s body was slumped over a corner at the end of the bed, his arms dangling to the floor where a pool of blood had spread, saturating the ecru carpet.  Elizabeth’s hand flew to her mouth, pressed back the scream that rose to her lips.  The room began to spin, and she looked up from the bloodstained floor just as a tall, dark-haired man straightened and stood on the other side of the bed.

“No,” she whispered and took a step back, then noticed her grandmother’s feet, just visible on the floor at the end of the bed.

“Elizabeth.”  Her eyes flew back to the man, her breath coming in short, frightened gasps.  He took a step toward her.  “Stay there,” he said and held out a hand.  It was covered in blood.

She turned and ran, a terrified sob tearing from her throat.  She looked back once and saw him start after her.  She didn’t even make it to the top of the stairs before he had her.  She screamed and began struggling, kicking and clawing and scratching at him in her effort to get away.

The man cursed under his breath and dragged her to the floor, holding her down with one bloodstained hand while shoving the other into her hair to keep her head immobile.  “You weren’t supposed to be here,” he hissed, then lifted and knocked her head against the floor.  Pain exploded in Elizabeth’s skull, bursts of color flashing momentarily, then fading into blessed, black, numbness. 

***

She had no memory of anything happening from that moment until the moment she’d awakened from the nightmare to see Stephen walking into her room.

Stephen.

This time, his hands weren’t stained with her grandmother’s blood.

Part 13