Category: Flash Fiction

When they drove down the winding driveway that led to Dylan’s cabin, Sarah realised that it had happened.

All hope gone.

She no longer believed that if she held on long enough she could find a way to escape. Get out, run through the woods, find someone to help her. She’d managed all those things and instead of being free right now she had been handed right back over to this monster. A prisoner all over again.

Sasha didn’t even need to be looking at Dylan when he shut the engine off to know what expression was on his face. He was furious. She’d made a fool of him. Could have gotten him locked up if she’d found a police officer.

Although probably not. He was smart, charming, good looking, and rich, she was sure he could talk his way out of anything, and the cops probably wouldn’t have believed her any more than Graham had.

It was hard not to be resentful of him. He could have saved her, and he hadn’t. Done the opposite instead.

The passenger door swung open and Dylan reached in, grabbed a handful of her hair, making her scalp sting and dragged her out of the vehicle. He didn’t speak a word and that was almost worst, because she could feel the rage flowing off him in waves.

Pulling her along with him faster than she could move, Sasha tripped several times as they crossed to the porch steps and then up them. Inside he flung her across the room hard enough she lost her balance and went down hard.

Slamming the door closed behind them, the sound of it locking felt like the final nail in the coffin. She wasn’t getting out of this room again. Not alive anyway.

Through tears blurring her vision she looked up at Dylan as he slid his belt through the loops on his jeans.

“Time to pay the price for that little stunt,” he sneered as he took a menacing step towards her.

Wrong.

The word kept running through his mind. The look on Sasha’s face as the car drove away wouldn’t leave Graham’s mind. Not only was there pure terror on it, but there was more than that there was reproach, like he was responsible for what was going to happen to her.

Even if Dylan was her brother that didn’t mean that he hadn’t done something to hurt her, and she’d told him quite categorically that the man was not related to her.

If they weren’t siblings then what else did that leave? They were the similar age, so that really left only two options, friends or lovers.

Ex-lovers?

There was no doubting that she was afraid of this man, and that she hadn’t wanted to go with him. There was zero proof that she was in any way mentally incompetent when it came to making her own decisions.

Yet he’d take her power from her. Decided for her. And possibly handed her over to someone who intended her harm.

It was the easy move to dismiss his reservations, continue on with his walk, forget about the whole thing and assume he’d done the right thing making sure a vulnerable woman was taken someplace safe.

But he couldn’t do that. Not while he had a doubt. He dashed to his car and tore after them, all he’d do was see where this cabin of Dylan’s was, check it out, confirm whether or not Sasha was safe there, and if she was he’d go home, if she wasn’t he’d call in the cops.

And hope he could live with the guilt if he’d just handed an innocent woman over to someone who was going to hurt her.

Helpless and hopeless.

Those two words summed up Sasha’s entire life as Dylan dragged her towards his vehicle and all but flung her into the front seat.

“You’ll pay for this little game,” he snarled in her ear, grabbing her arm that he’d broken weeks ago and squeezing it hard enough that she whimpered, and just bit back a plea for him to stop.

She wasn’t begging. Not ever again.

This escape attempt had failed, she’d been so close but not close enough. It wouldn’t cost her her life, not yet, Dylan wasn’t finished playing with her yet, but he’d punish her badly.

“Thanks again, Graham,” Dylan called over his shoulder, all fake politeness and friendliness.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Graham called back. Sasha couldn’t see his face from where she was but she heard his voice, and it sounded confused, like he wasn’t altogether sure he’d made the right decision handing her over.

Good. She hoped it weighed on him, and one day, when her discarded body was found she hoped the guilt ate at him until the day he died.

A sigh rattled through her aching chest. She didn’t actually hope that at all. It wasn’t his fault he’d been fooled, Dylan was a good actor. It seemed like they hadn’t known each other, if they did she wouldn’t have seen doubt on his face.

Not that it mattered. He hadn’t helped her, hadn’t saved her, the opposite in fact, he’d handed her back over to a monster.

Graham watched her pounding on the window while being driven away, and she silently pleaded with him to do something. Anything. Follow them, call the cops, it didn’t matter, she just needed someone to help her.

Because one thing had become certain. Sasha didn’t have what it took to save herself.

This felt wrong.

Graham’s every instinct told him that things were not as they seemed. The woman’s fear was genuine, but was it because of the man she claimed wasn’t her brother, or was it a product of the breakdown Dylan claimed she’d had?

“Come on, let’s go home,” Dylan said, clearly impatient and trying to hide it, ahtough doing a poor job of it.

“No,” the woman, Sasha, pleaded, her ragged fingernails gripping into the flesh on his hands.

“Don’t be silly, Sasha, you’ve caused enough havoc for one day. Time to get you home and dealt with,” Dylan said.

Because she was holding onto him, Graham felt the terrors wracking her small frame, and he opened his mouth to say … something. Although he had no idea what. This wasn’t his business, whatever was going on here was between the two of them, and it wasn’t like Sasha had asked for his help.

In fact the only words she’d spoken were that nothing would be okay with her brother. That was too cryptic for him to try to step in, insert himself into an issue he didn’t even understand.

“You should go with your brother, get in out of the cold,” he said, somewhat reluctantly manoeuvring the woman towards Dylan.

“Exactly,” Dylan said, grabbing for Sasha and yanking her up against his body. “We’ve wasted enough of this kind strangers time. I want you back in the house now, where you belong. Thank you, Graham, for your help.”

With those parting words, Dylan began to march away, presumably towards his cabin, dragging Sasha with him, moving faster than her much shorter legs could keep up with.

As he watched them go, Graham couldn’t help but feel like he’d just made a monumental mistake. One that Sasha would wind up paying for.

He was one of them.

Of course he was, Sasha had known that when she saw him talking to Dylan, but the man had just confirmed it himself, although she had no idea whey he was referring to her ex as her brother. Slip of the tongue probably.

For months now she had been living a nightmare and now he wanted to take her right back to it.

No.

She couldn’t go back.

Wouldn’t.

She’d rather die.

Ironing the pain in her body, the exhaustion weighing her down, Sasha pushed to her feet and started running again.

Didn’t get far.

The new man caught her easily, far too easily, and pulled her back against his chest, pinning her in place, and she whimpered again, a sound born from the fear of what would be done to her when Dylan laid hands on her again.

“It’s going to be okay,” he soothed, like he genuinely believed that. “Your brother will give you your medication and everything will feel better again.”

What on earth was he talking about? What medication?

“Nothing will ever be okay with Dylan,” she whispered, wondering why he was bothering to sound like he care when they both knew he didn’t. If he did then he wouldn’t hand her right back over to her abuser.

Maintaining his hold on her while he shifted her so she was facing him, his brow furrowed, what seemed like genuine concern in his dark eyes as he looked down at her. “Is he hurting you? Are you going to be safe if I give you back to your brother?”

“He’s not my brother,” she whispered.

Surprise flickered in the man’s eyes, but before he could say anything the voice of her nightmares rang out from just behind them.

“You found her,” Dylan said, that fakeness in his tone so obvious to her now she knew the truth about him. “Time to come home, sister dear.”