Submitting

Insensible

 I was happy. Very happy and sad. 

It must be because I didn't want my fears to come true. I definitely didn't want Liza to be caught in this mess and get tortured because of me. Tied to a chair, weak and helpless. She was receiving the worst side of what I was going through and in comparison, my situation was hardly anywhere as cold as hers. That is why I was feeling sad. That must be why I was feeling sad. 

The way back from the darkness behind the walls was a complete blur. I don't remember anything after I saw what I saw and heard what I did. What's left after, is now, in the bed, under the covers, with the several safe alibis I placed before, undone. 

Voices inside my head nagged and criticized me for not exploring more of the unknown as much as I could. They tried to drown this other silent yet persistent whisper that was bothered by Dimitri's actions. I simply refused to acknowledge it, but this itching feeling underneath my skin made me uncomfortably restless. 

What was he up to? Why was he doing this? Why can't he be as simple as other normal people? There was nothing normal about him or this situation.

Liza. 

I was at least glad that I was able to find out about her whereabouts and the possibility that I could take her with me when I do make it out of here without worrying about the consequences on her in case I didn't know where she was. She would have been stuck with those two green-eyed devils and I would have had to step in their territory once again to save her.

Surprisingly enough, and for the first time since I have stepped foot into this house, things worked out, and I got what I was looking for without getting caught. 

The door to the room opened with a click with the sting of alcohol wafting a little too strongly in the air, engulfing the whole room in its pungent odour. Feet stumbled on the wooden floor and then finally crashed on the sofa in the corner of the room. The sound of shoes being pulled of and thrown to the other side and the irritated groan gave me enough indication that it was Dimitri. Completely intoxicated and out of his usual poised mould that held everything and presented the sculpture of what I and everyone else thought he was. 

I clenched my eyes shut as quickly as I could, a little too hard. The darkness luckily veiled my failed attempt to appear asleep and pretence of oblivious to everything that happened tonight. I don't know how I could have possibly pretended to know nothing in front of him. It was still too soon, and I wasn't prepared. 

Seconds trickled down to minutes and then hours perhaps as Dimitri made no other movement or any sound while I laid there as still as possible with a raging manic inside all night, too afraid to fall asleep or relax.

****

The shining sharp knife in my hand smoothly sliced into the flesh. A perfect carving of meat to be set aside for preparing a meal of thanksgiving. Or that's what I was informed about the occasion. The only information I was provided and a bunch of orders from Ivan to help him in the kitchen. 

I had no idea that he could cook as well as he did at the moment. His deft hands professionally handling the kitchen, and the variety of meals, the scent of which made the very dull house a little less sombre. The clash played on the hidden speakers a little too unusually and loud as Ivan sang along, skipped a step, moved and twirled to a song while occasionally using the spatula as a mic. 

The bipolarity of everything was a little too hard for me to keep up with. 

Dimitri was a huge no show. Not only today but for the last couple of days as well. The last time I heard from him...or rather heard him was that night. He was gone the next day, leaving me with Ivan who being a complete different kind from his brother, was making things cheery yet twisted in his own way. Inconspicuously and quiet. 

I didn't know what day it was, what month, and for all I knew it might as well be a different year than what I thought it should be. Time just felt like a non-periodic loop here. If Ivan was lying about it being thanksgiving then I wouldn't even know. If he wasn't then it was twenty-sixth November. 

Four months since I've been held hostage here. 

"Are you trying to add your own secret ingredient into the marination?" Ivan left the stove on and the spatula in the pan and came towards me with large steps. His cold fingers on my free hand left a train of shiver down my spine as I broke from my reverie and stared at his frowned face looking down at the gaping cut that I didn't even notice in my hazed mind escapade. 

Blood trickled down and dripped down my index finger. The red liquid somehow fascinating me by giving a false signal of pain when the source of it was not quite correct. It was embedded deeper inside somewhere. 

Locks clicked as the main door swung open and somebody stepped in. It was the first time I heard that happen. Such a fickle thing shouldn't be a surprise, but the lurch of my heart was hopeful for rescue. If anybody was searching at all. 

Two massive paper bags hid Dimitri's face as he turned away from me and set the groceries on the other counter looked at Ivan, ignoring my presence completely. Or made it seem like he was as he stood there silently and watched as his brother mended my wound and kept singing like he was still cooking. 

"Do you need anything else?" Dimitri asked Ivan who placed a strip of band-aid on my finger and went back to the stove.  

"No darling, I don't need your prowling self here more than it is needed. Now shoo." Ivan nonchalantly waved his hand, dismissing the man who probably won't bat an eyelid to tie him up and throw him in behind the walls. I was surprised he didn't already.

Did he love his brother enough?

I cleared my throat at the sensation of a certain uncalled jab at my heart. Things were not right with me and I knew I was being insensible. Or an unknown part of me was. I had no intention of exploring that part. A line so thin seemed hard to tread on.

Dimitri's spared one last look at me as he walked out of the room and into the hallway, oblivious of my focused peripheral vision. Ignoring his presence or rather pretending to be has never been so easy like it was today. It sure was a cooperation from both sides.

"Rosie, as much as I loved your cooking last time, I am the chef tonight, and I need the recipes to me made my way. So no more secret ingredients okay? Here now you be It. " He handed me the spatula and took the knife out of my tight grip. If I could, I would never let go of it, but things don't go my way, do they?

****
The table was set.

A warm room with a round table in the centre. The fireplace burning low as aromatic candles scented the room in fall. The pastel orange plates complementing the decor in the room with the lights off. It seemed traditional and aesthetically pleasing in a way I couldn't deny.

Snow softly pelted outside in the moonlight night as the wind whispered loudly enough to be heard through the huge wooden framed glass doors.

The squeaks of the wooden floor were too loud even under the carpets as I walked further inside with awe and surprise in my mind. I didn't know that Ivan had this other side of him, less unknown but more acceptable. He was definitely a great host but controlling. His persistent self-made sure that I changed into something that wasn't casual. He was prepared with a red satin floor length dress in a modest  diamond neckline but sleeveless. My hair in a simple up do felt more unusual than it should have. I simply couldn't remember when was the last time I did so. Somehow it felt good.

A candlelight dinner not for two like it usually was. But three. Confusion lasted for a few seconds only when my eyes widened at the realization.