A Beautiful Nightmare: A Novel Read online

  My eyes refused to open when I finally woke.

  My ears were peeled, picking up on anything. That feeling was back. The hair on my body rose, my stomach clenched in anxiety. There was a feeling hovering over my body, like there were eyes around me, or worse, on me. I could feel them sliding over me. I tried to breathe evenly. In and out. If I pulled in the breath I needed, they’d know I was awake. My eyes were still clenched shut.

  I was still dreaming. I would wake up and Denny would kiss me like he used to, a soft peck below my ear, before his softness faded. His glimmering baby blue eyes would make my heart clench. I would feel the way I always felt around Denny. Like my past happened a long time ago, and there was no room in my peace for such darkness.

  “Did you know when you rest, your breathing evens out?”

  My heart fell through my ribs and tumbled around in my body, an estranged organ displaced from its host. The sound of his voice was a low rumble in the quiet. His voice had always been so deep. It sometimes lulled me during our sessions when he got to speaking. It was a timbre lower than most men, this deep tone that wormed its way into my brain. After some of our sessions, I would still hear him for hours.

  “And when you wake, it quickens to accommodate your need for more oxygen.”

  I opened my eyes. My cover was blown anyway. The sun had set. The entire room was drenched in darkness. The smell of urine was stronger, and I felt utterly disgusting.

  “Dash.” My voice came out in a sobbing whisper. A cry from a throat scraped raw. “Why?”

  “You know why, Kinley.” His deep voice settled over me in a rage filled fog. “You can pretend that you don’t, but we both know that you do. You know why.”

  In my state, I still managed to find his personality aggravating. I rolled my eyes at the darkness. “No I don’t, Dash. I don’t know anything that goes on in your head but what you let me know.”

  “Exactly,” he drawled.

  “Let me go.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?” I asked, knowing deep, deep, down, Dash had the ability to think clearly. Admittedly, nine times out of ten he could not. He physically could not. But we broke through on a few occasions, and he could do it if he tried. He needed to try.

  “Because I don’t want to,” he replied simply.

  Too simply. It was one of those nine out of ten times.

  I heard movement, and then the lights were on. I blinked them away and looked around the room. And there he was.

  Dash McKing.

  Tall, so tall. Dark everywhere except his skin. He had always been pale. I’d mentioned it on more than one occasion. Paleness like that meant a man who rarely went out. A man who lived on his own. By himself, stuck inside of his illness. His hair, a mixture of black and brown, was messy, but contained, the way it was when he saw me. He’d been out. He was wearing a black suit. His jacket was open. His long legs were wrapped in black slacks. Circles rimmed his eyes and his cheeks were slightly sunken; the shadows hinted at some weight loss.

  And despite everything around me, the smell of urine and my dried tears included, I had no choice but to admit what I always had to myself. Dash was one of the most handsome men I’d ever laid eyes on. Such an unfairly gorgeous package containing such dark unstableness.

  His fingers came away from a panel on the wall, and he turned to me, our eyes connecting. His eyes left mine to venture over my body before returning. They were eerie in the warm tea-colored room. His eyes had always been gold, so light brown they looked like butterscotch. Sometimes when we talked, though I tried to maintain contact, I couldn’t. I’d look at his mouth, his sharp nose, or his dark eyebrows. There was too much in his eyes to face head on.

  And right now, the sight of them made me nauseous. I looked away. “Please let me go.”

  “I’m not letting you go, Kinley. This is where you belong. I’ve wanted you with me for too long. But you refused.” He settled on the bed, looking over his shoulder down at me. “And now I refuse to let you go.”

  My throat burned. I swallowed the sob inside and closed my eyes, shaking my head. “You’re having an episode.”

  He snorted. “My entire life is an episode.” His hand settled on my waist. I refused to look. “You urinated yourself.” His tone lowered further, spilling out his shame, his regret. “Kinley?”

  I cried harder, not looking. I didn’t want to look.

  “I’m so sorry, my queen.” His body rose from the bed.

  I heard his feet on the wooden floors and then they lessoned until they stopped. A second later I heard the sound of running water. His feet returned, and then his voice tumbled out, deep and dark like mud.

  “I’m going to let you go. I suspect you’ll run, hit, kick—fine. Go ahead and fight. But there is only one way out in this place and you can search for a hundred years and never find it. You’re free to venture around. This is yours. All of it.” He sank onto the bed once more. A moment later I felt his touch on my wrists as he untied me.

  “Why did you tie me down then?”

  “I didn’t.” He leaned over my body. I opened my eyes to find his chest hovering over me. His black shirt caressed my face, smelling faintly of his cologne. My left arm fell down. “They have been handled,” he murmured.

  My right arm fell away too. But I couldn’t feel them. They were floppy, useless. Limp beside me. The pain in my shoulders was too much. He stood up and moved on to my ankles. I watched as his long pale fingers worked on the knots.

  I didn’t ask what that meant. Handled sounded a lot like killed, and if he killed them, then he’d kill me. My left ankle fell from the post, followed eventually by my right. I lay there, unmoving, as the feeling came back to me.

  “You’re so raw.” He massaged my ankles. “This is my fault. I haven’t been able to concentrate well. I didn’t inform them to treat you well. I thought it would be implied. I’m so sorry.” There was a warm feeling on my skin. I looked down to find him on his knees in front of me, his lips on my ankles, looking up at me through his long dark lashes as he kissed my wounds. “I didn’t mean for it to be this way.”

  I met his eyes when he looked up. And then I cocked my leg back and kicked him in the face. I didn’t check to see if he was down before I rolled over and off the bed. My arms screamed in pain when I pushed to my feet, but I screamed back louder. I ran around the bed for the door within my sights. But when I got to it, there was no handle. Where was the freaking handle? I pounded on the door, feeling my time running out. Behind me, Dash writhed on the floor with his hand over his nose.

  I ran around his body and made my way to the doorway he went inside. But it was just a bathroom. A bathroom covered in light beige colors like champagne and tea. The bath was running. I had every intention of running, of fighting, but something about the room brought me up short.

  It felt like I knew this room, that I had seen it before. It was breathtaking. Gold and glimmer. There was a huge tub, a standing shower. Warm lightening. Marble that was so shiny I could see my reflection in it. There was a row of windows along the far wall, and though the same white bars existed on them, the view beyond them was breathtaking. It even smelled good. Like someplace clean, new, and inviting.

  I hadn’t remembered accepting an invitation.

  I walked tentatively over to the windows. My heart dropped once more. We were so high up I could see the entire city of Chicago spread out below me. And I knew. I knew where I was. This building had been abandoned, a skyscraper in Chicago’s skyline no one wanted because the infrastructure was compromised during construction. It was supposed to bring change to the city, new jobs, new opportunities. It had been empty for years, this forgotten metal and glass building alone as the world continued.

  Six months ago construction had restarted. I had wondered who bought it, who would spend more money on a building than it was worth?

  Now I knew.

  There was a sound behind me. I whirled around to find Dash bursting into the room. He made
his way over to the sinks and turned on the glass knobs. Crystal water poured out as he bent to tend to the blood running down his face.

  “This is my dream bathroom.”

  His hooded eyes met mine in the mirror. “I know,” his muffled voice growled.

  I marked magazines in my office, constructing my dream house in my head. Taking pieces from so many to make a whole in my imagination. Denny and I had been toying with the idea of buying a house, and this was what I wanted my bathroom to look like. Dash had remembered them all, saved every note I made. I hadn’t known he’d even read them all, but there had been a few times during our sessions when he’d grab a magazine off my desk to deflect the attention put on him.

  “Why did you construct my dream bathroom?”

  My body swayed. Dreams in nightmares made no sense. They were a promise I didn’t want to hear. A threat that had been given the moment his gang stepped out to grab me.

  “We’re going to be here for a long time. You deserve to have the bathroom you want.” He marched over and ripped a hand towel off the wall, holding it to his nose. His eyes gleamed murderously at me, the gold clashing with the beige tile. “You want me to say it?”

  I reached out and clutched the wall. We were so high up. There were bars on the windows. I had a dream bathroom. And Dash was looking at me like he was getting everything he ever wanted.

  I nodded once, waiting for the hammer to fall.

  “You’re stuck here, Kinley. With me, for good. There is no way out. There is nowhere to go. It will be you and me until you decide you want it that way.”

  I had a tendency to overthink things when I got nervous. I could often break apart seconds in my head that could seem endless. But right now my head unfolded everything in the second Dash was looking at me.

  Forever.

  Stuck.

  Imprisoned in this forgotten building.

  Denny would forget me.

  I would not exist.

  No one would find me, because I was in my dream bathroom high up in the Chicago skyline with a bipolar borderline personality sufferer whose father happened to be the kingpin of one of the most notorious Chicago gangs since the mob. The cops were probably in his pocket. No one would look for me. Denny was probably in his own prison.

  My eyesight blurred, and I felt myself falling long before I reached the ground. The last thing I saw was Dash McKing staring down at me, his own blood smeared on his handsome face, his lips swollen, and his cheek red.

  I fell into unconsciousness, because as long as I was sleeping, none of this was real.

  4.

  You’re Mine

  There was a smell around me.

  Lemon and ginger, a calming clean smell that eradicated the sting of urine in my nostrils. I moaned in pleasure and nestled my body deeper, thinking Denny had lit a candle. He’d crawl into bed and massage my shoulders—fix the cracks and the holes.

  “Ahh,” I moaned, when he did just that.

  My shoulders were unreasonably sore. So sore it started to shatter my imaginings. Pain began to invade my body. In my neck, in my joints, in my shoulders, my ankles, and my knees. But it still smelled divine, so I thought my nightmare hadn’t quite left my mind.

  “You are mine,” Denny whispered in my ear.

  But instead of his familiar smooth voice, it was a low rumble. My eyes opened in confusion, and my daydream shattered. In its place was champagne colored tile, glass, and light. It was glowing in this room. I looked down in horror to find my naked body submerged in water. My pleasant lie dissipated in seconds, and the events that got me here replayed in my head.

  I pulled away from Dash, scurrying to the other side of the bathtub. Thankfully, the tub was huge, putting me at a safer distance. His sleeves were rolled up and his suit jacket was gone. Suds coated his forearms. His nose was crusted with blood and his cheek was bruised.

  “What did you do to me?” I covered my breasts with my hands. I was so exposed, so naked in front of him. For some reason this was the final straw. To be naked, to be trapped, to be looking into the eyes of a man I had looked into many times before. I brought my knees to my chest and wiped my tears away. Now wasn’t the time to cry. I had to get out of here. There was always a way out if there was a way in. Dash could often overestimate his intelligence. He wasn’t of sound mind. I was. I could get out of here.

  His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t bring you here to abuse you. I took your clothes off because they were covered in urine. I put you in the bathtub to wash you. I am not my father,” he reminded me bitterly.

  I had heard the stories of his father from his mouth. The horrible things he had done, being the kingpin of the MK Gang. Grotesque stories that I’d listened to engrossed the way I always was. At the mention of them, my panic renewed. I tried to rise, but I didn’t want to be any more naked than I was.

  He rolled his eyes and bolted to his feet. He began to pace, from the long standing mirrors to the tub, over and over again, tugging at his hair. “I am not my father!” he screamed. “I am not my father! I would never hurt women. I would never hurt you.” He whirled around and pointed at me, his hand shaking. “You know that, Kinley. We talked. A lot. You know me better than anyone else. I would never hurt you. I WOULD NEVER HURT YOU!”

  I flinched at his outburst. It was louder than anything I’d heard in days. Rage twisted his face. His eyes glowed dangerously. My body trembled in the water. But I knew this about Dash. I had spent many hours convincing him he was not his father. And for some reason, in a small part of my heart, I felt guilty. But I was tied down to a bed. I was abducted. I was drugged. I was taken. I had every right to question the man who did it, and he would not take that from me. I was not the bad guy.

  “Dash,” I whispered.

  He paced faster, mumbling illegible words under his breath. “Wanted you, Kinley. I didn’t know what else to do. I’d never be that evil. I’d never hurt you. I WOULD NEVER!” His roar vibrated in the room and he stopped suddenly, turning his enraged gaze on me. “Say it. You know it.” His gaze shot me a memory. “You know I’d never hurt you.”

  I closed my eyes. “I was abducted. They took me.”

  “They weren’t supposed to do it there. They were supposed to wait until you got home. When you were alone. There would be a sleeping agent in your coffee water. You’d pass out and wake up here. Easy. Painless. But your significant other didn’t cooperate. They took it upon their selves, they interfered. They’re my father’s men,” he explained, chest rising and falling.

  I refused to open my eyes. My brain was spinning. “You’re having an episode. All you had to do was schedule an appointment. I would have been more than happy to oblige. I always do, don’t I?” Now I opened my eyes, shooting him my own memory. “Have I ever done anything wrong to you?”

  He pointed at me again. This time there was a clear threat in it. An or else I could sense. “I would never hurt you. Say it.”

  “My ankles are swollen from the rope.”

  “Say it.” He fell forward like a trapped animal and grabbed hold of the edge of the tub. “Say it, right now, or I will have him killed. He’s useless now anyway.”

  My blood ran ice-cold. I didn’t have to ask who. There was no one else in my life but Denny. “You would never hurt me.” I didn’t mention that threatening to hurt someone else to defend his trustworthiness was the same thing, because his brain was unlike my own. That’s why he paid me to help.

  His head bowed in relief. “I’d never hurt you. I haven’t been able to breathe for the better part of a decade, Kinley. But the moment I met you.” He looked up and met my eyes. “I look forward to one thing. A one-hour visit. But that wasn’t enough. One hour with you, was not enough. You wouldn’t go out with me. You’d never listen to me. You wouldn’t have dinner, coffee, a fucking five-minute conversation on the street.” He punched the water, sending suds into the air. “So I took you.” An unapologetic gleam entered his eyes. “I took you, Kinley, and now you’re mine. Say it.
Tell me you’re mine, or Denny will lose more than you.”

  My lungs were strangled. My body shook uncontrollably. Denny, my love. Please forgive me. “Don’t hurt him.”

  Disgust filled his eyes. “You don’t even love him. Why do you pretend you do?”

  “I do love him.” Denny was all I had.

  “You’re pathetic.” He rose with a grunt and looked at me. “Say it.”

  Do this for Denny, my self-preservation coaxed. “I am yours, Dash.”

  The moment I said it peace slid over his face. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out. “And you’re never leaving me.”

  “I’m never leaving you.”

  “Because I need you. Because I can breathe with you. Because when I think of you the evil in my brain quiets.”

  “Because you need me. Because you can breathe with me. Because when you think of me the evil in your brain quiets.”

  His breathing slowed. A ripple of pleasure traveled over him. He straightened and opened his eyes; the gold in them glowed. “I knew you could be a good girl. A smart girl. My girl. This can work, Kinley. We can work.” And then he smiled.

  It was the first time I ever saw Dash McKing smile. A year of therapy and not once had his lips ever rose. A small memory of a smirk slithered in my mind, but I forced it away. Smirks weren’t smiles. This was a smile. A wide stunning display of happiness, as tears trailed down my face, the wounds on my ankles bled into the water, and my boyfriend’s life hung in the balance.

  This was a nightmare, and I wanted free.

  5.

  How’s That For A Safe And Smart Choice?

  His smile faded slowly, like a firework falling toward earth.

  The show was quick and glowing, but over as I stared, my bottom lip trembling and my brain turning.

  “Finish bathing. Everything you need is here.” He pointed to the sink and then walked over and tapped on the cabinet beneath it. A drawer opened slowly. “This is all drawers. There’s everything you could possibly need in here. There is a closet in your room with clothes in your size in all seasons. I can’t imagine you needing anything, but if you do let me know. I’ll figure it out.” He closed the drawer and walked over to the wall, tapping what I noticed was a tiny sensor the size of a marble. A door swung open, revealing a closet stacked with fluffy towels, robes, slippers, shower caps, and a floor to ceiling wall of hamper-styled drawers. “There are refills in these drawers for the ones under the sinks. I’ll show you the stock room.” He grabbed a towel and robe, and set them on the edge of the tub within my reach. He met my eyes sideways. “When are you going to be on your period?”