The Karma Project

Chapter 10 - An Object At Rest, Remains At Rest

Zoe

The next day I woke in a cold sweat, and my throat was sore from screaming. I shot myself from my bed and hung my legs over the side, a bad attempt at trying to catch my breath. I haven't had a nightmare since I killed my father, so I'm more than confused as to why they are all of a sudden back.

Closing my eyes, I finally take in a deep breath and sigh. For a moment it was like I was back there in that trunk. My wrists are bound behind my back and my legs tightly taped together from my thighs and all the way down to my ankles. I knew it was another test, but it didn't mean I'd live. If anything it terrified me even more knowing that I wasn't kidnapped by a stranger, but my father. Put in the back of a dark and smelly car trunk completely bound. I knew he wanted to see me escape, but I also knew that if I died in this situation it wouldn't hurt him at all. If anything it may relieve him to know he doesn't need to feed me anymore.

I can still feel the terror coursing through my body when a man took me from the trunk and brought me into that warehouse basement. So many screams... and their cries. Oh my god their cries.

"Hey." A voice from behind me shot me to my feet, my heart racing.

"Fuck, Dean. What the hell?" I growl, holding my hand over my racing heart.

"I didn't mean to scare you, but I heard screaming. You okay?" His words sound concerned, but his expression is still that permanent scowl.

"Why do you care?" I say, rolling my eyes and dropping my hand from my heart.

He stays stoic, no flinch, no tweak of an eyebrow-- his expression completely vacant. Finding it useless to wait for him to respond I break the silent staring contest, "I'm fine. You can leave now."

Despite me waving him off he continued to stare at me, insisting on not breaking our eye contact. When I eventually turn away from him his voice pulls my attention back to him. "Kahl really did a number on you, didn't he?"

I snort at the mention of my father, "Something like that."

"Go back to bed," He begins to walk out of my room, "And stop that screaming. You're going to wake the whole fucking house." He snarls from over his shoulder. Asshole. Just as soon as he appeared he was gone.

I gape at the now empty doorway we once stood in. Where his massive shadowed silhouette once stood, is now completely empty. What the fuck is his deal? No longer feeling tired, I stood to look out my massive window. Judging by the coloring of the sky, dawn will soon break, and I might as well start my day.

I cracked my neck and back and stretched my tired muscles. I need a shower, my phone, and all my goddamn clothes. I don't want to spend another day wearing Brandon's sweats, no matter how comfortable they may be.

As I was mentally cursing the men for not letting me just go back to my apartment last night, I see that my closet door is slightly ajar. Curious, I step through the door and flick the lights on.

"Holy shit." I whisper.

Dozens and dozens of shopping bags cover the closet floor. Brands ranging from Prada and Gucci to Tom Ford and Michael Kors. Shoe boxes line the shelves and a few dresses stay hanging. What the hell is this? Max had said they'd retrieve my items from my apartment, and I know by the two dollars to my name, this was in fact not from my apartment. I investigate further and make my way to my dresser in the bedroom, and the dresser is now filled with the clothes I am more familiar with. I take in my familiar ratty t-shirts and my own sweatpants.

Grabbing one of my favorite t-shirts and a fresh matching panty and bra set, I make my way back into the bathroom. I choose to ignore the bags poking from the closet and focus on starting a shower. While the water is heating I decide to look through the bathroom drawers. I discovered plenty of soaps, lotions and exfoliates as well as body butter that must cost more than a middle-class home.