The Cost of Betrayal Pt. 01

The sound of the engine pierced my ears, overwhelming me with its monotony. Only the occasional sound of a siren from some angry driver in the distance broke through, but none of that could distract me from the current situation. I squirmed in the trunk of the car, trying to find at least a seemingly comfortable position. It wasn't easy. Although he had been kind enough to empty the trunk this morning, it still felt like a luggage compartment, not a place where an entire person could fit.

The disgusting black fabric that covered it scratched my bare skin, each movement bringing additional discomfort.

"I hate being naked," I thought, while my mind wandered to his words that he often repeated: "There's no better aphrodisiac than your naked body." While such comments flattered me, I had always been a fan of fine black lace lingerie or a leather corset.

**

I couldn't shake his gaze from my mind the moment Andrew approached our table. It was just an ordinary conversation, or at least I thought so. Andrew, his college friend, was charming, with that overly confident smile that would be appealing to any woman. At that moment, with a glass of wine in hand and even more of it in my bloodstream, I felt an unusual sense of freedom around him.

Probably not by chance, he sat down next to me. I smiled, maybe a little too much, and played with a strand of hair while responding to his jokes, which became increasingly lascivious as the evening wore on.

When we left the restaurant, my husband didn't say anything right away. He simply opened the car door and waited for me to get in. His silence was worse than any words he could have spoken. I sat next to him while he drove, and the tension in the car was almost palpable.

"What does all this mean?" he finally asked quietly, through clenched teeth, nearly slicing through the air.

"What?" I tried to sound innocent in hopes of masking the tremor in my voice.

Such a tone and demeanor couldn't mean anything good.

"You know exactly what," he said without taking his eyes off the road ahead. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and his jaw was clenched as if he were fighting to stay composed. "Andrew."

I rolled my eyes and leaned deeper into my seat, trying to appear relaxed.

"Oh please!" I laughed in an attempt to hide how nervous I was. "It was nothing."

The alcohol was slowly evaporating from me, and I began to realize what kind of mess I had gotten myself into.

His laughter was short and devoid of any humor, cynical.

"Nothing?" he repeated as if testing the weight of that word on his tongue. "Maybe you think it's nothing."

"Well it is," I insisted now more firmly. "We were just talking."

"Just talking," he echoed quietly, almost to himself, staring straight ahead at the dimly lit road.

"You think I'm sleeping around behind your back, huh?!", frustration took over me and I couldn't suppress the anger his words provoked, "Am I whoring around like some cheap slut?!"

For a moment he looked at me with a heated, piercing gaze that silenced me instantly.

"Maybe," he said after a moment of silence, "And I know how to check on that, don't worry."

There were no more words, just silence that suffocated me as we continued driving.

The next day he told me something I didn't expect: "We're going on a little trip." His tone left no room for negotiation.

"A trip? Where? When..."

He grabbed my shirt and roughly tore it off.

"You don't have the right to ask questions," he said as he opened the trunk of the car. "And you don't deserve to ride normally. Take everything off and get in!"

**

The trunk doors swung open suddenly, and cold air splashed against my skin. I blinked several times to adjust to the blinding light coming from outside. He stood over me, a silhouette against the headlights of the car.

He was tall and strong, with a solid build that he carried effortlessly but with quiet confidence. His blue eyes were sharp like knives but not cold, rather filled with interest that penetrated deep into your being as he studied you. He had been sporting a short beard for some time now which added seriousness to his demeanor, perhaps even a few extra years. He wore black leather pants, his old biker ones, that were worn out at the knees, a black shirt that framed his shoulders and chest nicely, and a cap that shaded part of his face.

"Get up," he said in a voice that was neither loud nor harssh.

I swallowed hard while trying to maintain a calm expression on my face.

"Here." I said quietly, attempting to sound cooperative as I slowly extracted my legs from the trunk.

I felt his gaze closely following me and it made my heart double its pace. I had the feeling that I couldn't breathe properly; so I slowed down for a moment. He clearly didn't have enough patience for that, so he grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him before I could fully exit. His grip was firm and unwavering.

I stumbled slightly forward as my foot caught on the edge of the trunk before instinctively jerking my hand back toward myself.

"Stop squirming," he said as if helping me regain my balance.

"I'm not squirming," I muttered quickly, lowering my gaze toward the ground and trying to sound calm. But my body betrayed me. I felt my hands trembling as I gathered them by my sides.

"Of course," he said with a quiet chuckle in his voice as he suddenly pushed away the hand he held so abruptly that I nearly lost my balance again.

Silence hung thick in the air. I glanced at him from beneath my lashes as blood froze in my veins. He was calm in a way that drove me crazy, like a villain plotting his evil plans who enjoys not revealing anything right away.

"And?" I finally asked, unable to fully control my voice, "What are we doing in this godforsaken place in the middle of the night?"

I noticed a wicked smile creeping onto his face. He briefly removed his cap to fix his tousled blue hair before slowly approaching me.

"For starters," he said getting closer to me, "I want you to learn where your place is."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we're going to talk for a bit," his sinister smile promised nothing good, "and maybe I'll interrogate you about your 'little' adventures."

**

The doors of the old cabin closed behind us with a dull thud that echoed through the silence of the night. I stood at the threshold, unsure whether to take the next step. Inside was dark, only the pale moonlight filtering through the dirty windows illuminated the dusty surfaces. The smell of dampness and rotting wood filled the space, and every breath felt heavy.

He stepped in behind me, close enough for me to feel his breath on my neck.

"Come on," he said coldly, gently pushing me forward.

I took a few steps inside, trying not to trip over the scattered items on the floor. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and I couldn't help but notice how everything in this room looked neglected, as if no one had stepped foot here in years. The old table was covered with a thick layer of dust, and the chairs were wobbly and damaged. In the corner of the room stood a chair that looked sturdier than the others, standing out ominously from the rest of the decor.

"What are we doing here?" I asked for what felt like the hundredth time, impatient for any kind of normal answer.

He didn't respond right away. Instead, he approached the table and pulled something from his backpack that he placed on it. When he turned to face me, he held a length of rope in his hands. My pupils dilated as I watched him slowly wrap it around his hand.

"What are you doing?" I asked, panic beginning to set in.

"I'm setting the scene," he replied calmly, as if discussing something trivial like setting a dinner table, not paying attention to my nervous shifting from foot to foot.

"Why?" I continued to ask, now taking a step back, trying to maintain as much distance between us as possible.

"Because I have questions," he said as he moved closer to me. "And you have answers."

"I don't understand..." I started to speak, but he interrupted me with a wave of his hand.

"Stop," he said, now slightly irritated. "Stop with your games."

A lump formed in my throat as I watched him pull out his phone from his pocket. Cold sweat trickled down my back as he unlocked it and showed me the screen. On it were messages, my messages. In silence, I observed screenshots of conversations with various, mostly forgotten names. They were messages I never thought he would see, innocent at first, but as days went by...

"What does this mean?" he didn't bother hiding his anger as he pointed at the screen filled with messages that were too explicit for me to deny.

"That... that's not what you think," I stammered, feeling my cheeks flush with shame.

"No?" he repeated with a smirk while trying to catch my gaze. "Then tell me what it is."

"It... it's just words." I lacked both strength and courage to meet his eyes. "I didn't mean anything serious."

He stepped closer to me, so close that I could feel the warmth of his body next to mine.

"Just words?" he asked quietly, leaning toward me while his eyes burned with an uncontrollable flame. "You think I'm supposed to take this as 'just words'?"

I tried to respond, but words wouldn't come out of my mouth. He sighed audibly and pulled me toward a chair in the corner of the room.

"Sit," he said coldly as he pushed me toward it.

"This isn't necessary," I barely managed to say while watching him skillfully weave the rope between his fingers.

"It absolutely is."

His movements were calm and decisive, each knot was perfectly tightened so that I couldn't even think about escaping. When he finished, he stood before me with arms crossed over his chest, observing me like a predator studying its next prey.

"Now we're going to talk," he said calmly as he leaned closer to me. "And this time there will be no lies."