If Only She'd Loved Him

Chapter 16

"I answered your first question," Megan stammered, still hoping she'd come up with a plausible explanation, and come up with it fast. "Now it's time for one of mine."

"You lied to me," Erik responded. "But I'm feeling generous, so I'll let that slide for now. Ask your question."

Megan stretched out her neck, rubbed her hands through her hair, flexed her fingers, before she asked something she knew she didn't want the answer to.   

"When are you going to let me go?"

"Waste of a question, sweetheart.  Never."

"But why?" She pleaded, her hands twisting into knots.  "We went out for one semester, Erik, that's it.  Why are you doing this to me?"  Her voice was high and painful.  Frustrated and feeling too warm from the wine, she shrank back to her side of the couch.  He pulled her back.

"Uh-uh, you made the rules.  You get to live by them.  By the way, that was two questions.  It's my turn now."  He placed both palms on the sides of her face and gently tightened.  "Tell me how you slipped out of those handcuffs, and tell me the whole truth this time, or I'll have to punish you."

"Punish me?  Ha!  I'm in hell now."

Erik brushed his lips through her hair.  "Oh, but I can make hell so much more hellish," he whispered.  "Now," he demanded, his patience long gone, "tell me how you escaped."

Megan suddenly remembered something she'd read in an old mystery book.  Quickly, she stammered out her answer. "I, I dislocated my thumbs."

"Possible," he replied. "But I don't really believe you.  So, I'll give you a choice.  You can demonstrate to me how you did it right now, and I'll apologize, or you can tell me the truth."  Reaching into his back pocket, Erik slid out a pair of handcuffs.  "Always carry a spare," he teased, swinging them back and forth before her eyes.

Megan stared hypnotized as they swayed before her.  Silver metal glinted into her eyes, the inside edges angled sharply, cutting into each other, cutting at her skin.  She winced at the memory.

"Truth," she said.  Unable to stop herself, tears started to pour down her cheeks.  Erik looked at her sadly.  Her voice was a whisper's whisper.

"I found a paperclip in the trunk.  I untwisted it, and used it to click open the latch."  Her words were soft and slurred.  Her mind couldn't seem to focus enough to lie.

Erik studied her face for a careful minute.  Pleased with what he saw, he stroked the back of her hand with smooth gentle strokes.  "See how good being honest can feel."

Megan didn't try to fight him.  His fingers barely registered on her hand.  It was like being touched by a cobweb.  Her mind tried to clear past the wine.  So many questions to ask, but none of them would stay straight in her head. Finally, all she could remember was something about missing shoes. 

"Why did you take my sneakers?" she asked.  Her voice sounded loud to her ears.  Her eyes bobbled in and out of focus.

Erik had no such problem concentrating. "Ah, that's an easy one.  You could have figured that out if you'd tried.  Why do you think I'd take your shoes?"

She said nothing, but pulled her hands back from his.  He recaptured them easily.  Now his thumbs began to massage her skin. 

"All right," he nodded.  "If that's your question.  I took your shoes because you're my guest, sweetheart, and you'll stay that way.  It's a lot harder to run away in bare feet.  All sorts of things out in these woods that you wouldn't want to step on.  On a good day, with those long legs, you just might be able to outrun me.  I didn't want to take that chance, so I didn't."