The Dar Star - Locdown Vol. 03

Chapter Seven; Intensive Care

Night no longer follows day held in near constant darkness.

Time passes slowly, excruciatingly slowly.

All bearings lost in the long-drawn-out hours or days in the darkness that disorientates.

Sanity tested in the darkness of the permanently drawn slats of the wooden blinds that enforce a level of darkness that only adds to the confusion of the time of day.

Time itself having little to no meaning. Sight permanently dialled up in the dim room even when precious light does break around the edge of drawn blinds.

Precious light casting menacing shadows over the devices of unimaginable torture that surround her. Surely, it's only a matter of time before she's subjected to their merciless grip and their barbarism.

Fears that fill the long-drawn-out hours tethered by a chain locked around her ankle.

The bite of the cruel steel shackle remorseless, she had long ago appreciated the futility of attempting to remove the heavy locked steel restraint that remained a constant around her ankle. The method of restraint offering at least enough freedom of movement for to her to be able to escape the bed and pace the room a little. Favourable tenfold therefore to the times she still finds herself restrained by all four limbs across the surface of the bed, just as she been held at the start of this ordeal.

The threat of the torture in her captivity nothing compared to the mental exhaustion of solitude.

Alone with only her own thoughts for company. Nothing makes sense everything is tainted black.

This is her life as she has reluctantly come to accept.

Daily, at least she perceives daily, the intrusion of him offering welcome fleeting moments of reprieve brought about by the door unlocking on his tall dark silhouette.

The brief conversations he offers, centre on delivery of constantly grim news in explanation of the seriousness of the situation faced in the outside world.

Her own dilemma fading into relative insignificance given his retelling of the ramifications of the virus outside the four walls that have come to define her solitary confinement.

She didn't believe him at first, couldn't bring herself to believe what he was telling her. Angrily denying his stories of unimaginable horrors until he proved it showing her snippets of headline news from his mobile phone.

Hospitals overrun; existing facilities hastily converted to emergency hospitals. Senior figures including the Prime Minister hospitalised with the virus, the later seemingly close to death on a specialist hospital ward. The country on its knees descending into social chaos and economic ruin while tens of thousands continue to fall ill and hundreds die from an air-born virus. A total of ten thousand deaths is unimaginable, the number growing exponentially every time she enquires, or he gives her an update. No certainty over the peak and the long-term impacts of the virus that tears not just through the country but decimates the world. Haunting images of mass graves dug for bodies piled high in America, death tolls comparable across European countries.

A cure seemingly impossible, a vaccine not available in time given the way the unstoppable disease has spread around the world.

She lost sight of when, but he started wearing a medical style mask that covered his mouth and face.

He was the only person she was ever exposed to. The only other living person she saw. The only one to tip her away from thoughts that lurched wildly in her increasingly unstable mind.

What was her fate what was the fate of the world?

Twisted haunting visions of death and pestilence filled her nightmares and her waking thoughts. Was she better off here? Was she safer here? Was he her protector her saviour?

Alone in the darkness, held captive she never saw her, only ever him.

Was she well? was Arabella healthy? was she even alive? If they both fell ill, if they both succumbed to the virus who would care for her, who would bring her the daily rations that sustained her?

In time she came to welcome the sound of the door unlocking, the moments of brief interaction. Always civil, always on soft tones, her intrigue in him grew daily. Despite her predicament she harboured no ill feeling towards him. At times he would stand over her, on other occasions he would sit on the end of the bed while she hungrily devoured whatever provisions he supplied.

On one occasion he provided the bitter sweetness of a dark chocolate. Unseen she saved half to be consumed at a later time, such was the reward and the pleasure she gleaned from the simple act of kindness. On another occasion the sweetness of orange juice substituted the usual bland bottled water.

She knew not to ask why they kept her here anymore, knew not to bargain for or attempt beg for her freedoms as she had during her first days. That had been explained by him. This was her penitence her punishment, Kimberley was dead, and it was her fault.

She needed to be punished, the brutality of her enforced isolation was little more than she deserved. She had listened intently as he'd explained to her, darkly painting the foreboding insight into her future should she not comply and how her acceptance and compliance would only serve her well in the long term.

Earn her reward she had yet to experience, beyond bitter dark chocolate and sweet sugary juice.

As she lay there, she heard the lock of door unlatch and swing slowly open.

She looked up at the figure in black silhouetted as ever against the stark bright light of the hallway behind him. A light that offended her vision causing her to squint her eyes near shut as he entered, a silver tray clasped between strong hands.

Lay on her back, dressed only in rose pink underwear she turned her head before rolling on to her right-hand side

A sincere smile crept across her lips.

"Are you well Logan?"

Chapter Eight; Isolation

Condensation rising from the kettle caused rivulets of water vapour to form on the cool tiles at the back of the kitchen work surface.

Logan stared watching the rivulets fall under their own weight distracted by nothing more as the steam rose from the kettle which clicked off automatically as it boiled. His mind blurred by the lack of sleep, his body refusing to adjust or yield to the crippling insomnia that kept him awake for hours on end.

Alone with only his thoughts and his dark twisted memories to keep him company. When his body finally succumbed to crippling anxiety and exhaustion his conscience filled even his sleeping mind with distorted images and nightmares of the sordid past of those he'd cared for and those he'd held in states of perpetual pain.

A pain and suffering he'd brought upon them, suffering that had destroyed their lives because of their involvement with him.

"Logan please" he heard her desperate voice once again on echo of a vision of a memory that never was.

Reaching for her watching as she fell, as Hetti fell, evading his desperate lunge, his fingers tantalisingly grazing hers. Watching leant against the low roof top wall she'd stood upon her body spiralling as she fell flailing, over her pale tattooed skin he could see clearly the detail of every one of the intricate brightly coloured tattoos that covered much of her body.

He couldn't look away as he watched her, eventually her body hitting the dark black tarmac of the street beneath her.

Somewhere screams rung out, a chorus of screams that rippled out around the Mediterranean looking streets he looked down upon.

"Coffee and Eggs...don't go spoiling the little slag" Ari's voice snapped him from the haunting memory of the nightmare he'd relived several times since waking in the early hours.

This wasn't even a glimpse of a past; this hadn't been a reality. Why his mind had constructed such a vision was beyond the grasp of his comprehension.

"I'm not sure that's a fair depiction," Logan snapped at her, his lack of sleep driving his festering foul mood.

"Well, that confirms that..." Ari teased taking a triangular slice of buttered toast from the plate of scrambled eggs he'd prepared whilst he filled the white mug containing instant coffee before with the freshly boiled water.

"Confirms what?"

"You've fucked her" she goaded taking a bite from the procured slice of toast as she perched herself up upon the breakfast bar, dressed in a pair of pale blue cotton pyjama shorts and a little white vest top. Her makeup was light but noticeable and her platinum hair pristinely straightened.

He met her eye as he placed the mug of coffee onto the silver tray besides the plate of eggs.

"I haven't laid a finger on her," Logan defended himself against the casual accusation, wiping slightly damp hands across a black t-shirt that he'd coupled with black jeans. A black outfit to match a black mood

"Horse Crap Logan," Ari smirked. "You're telling me you've had her locked away for six weeks and you haven't abused the situation."

"Boy Scouts honour," Logan offered a phrase possibly lost on the young blonde.

"You've thought about it though..." Ari pressed a playful smirk continuing to creep across light rose lips. "You've thought about it because what red blooded male wouldn't...she's an attractive girl... and I know you."

Logan was caught between seething and laughing. She spoke the truth he would be lying if every time he entered the room, he hadn't considered abusing the upper hand he held over Siena's restrained slender form. That wasn't the challenge, claiming her would be an easy feat to achieve. Not succumbing to such dark thoughts, not claiming her against her will had become Logan's personal challenge. Desexualising the young darkhaired girl, they'd held captive for 40 days now had become his challenge weeks ago. His refusal to submit to dark thoughts and ill will should not have been a cause for celebration, not by any stretch of any imagination, but none the less he took a sense of pride in his continued abstinence.

"How wrong you are," he smirked making to pick up the tray from beside her on the breakfast bar, before pushing away from the counter and offering. "You know I've only got eyes for you... despite how distant you keep me."

His response having the desired effect, he caught her off guard as she near choked on the second bite of toast. She should have known he was joking, in part.

"You know I'm off limits," she eventually responded.

"Doesn't stop my imagination," taking a sidestep he moved between her slightly parted legs, risking touching her by running his right hand up the inside of her pale left thigh.

She didn't know how to react looking down at his hand taking a slow inhale.

"Six weeks holed up here in isolation we all have our needs Ari...surely a mutual understanding can be agreed upon?"

She didn't react, building a surprising intensity he hadn't intended to between them, intending only to deflect her initial accusation. Her breath paused as his fingers reached the hem of her shorts. Her hand pressed to his chest but not with a firm enough lock of her elbow to suggest she wanted him to stop.

"Although.... I have to say I prefer the black satin number over the cotton PJ's...much easier for the wank bank."

Logan pulled sharply away from her with a sardonic grin, stepping away and finally picking up the tray of food meant for their captive. Conscious of his own semi aroused state pressing against the back of the fly of his jeans. Without another word he walked away not even bothering to look back to Ari, leaving her sat upon the breakfast bar as he made his way into the hallway.

She was stood there waiting for him at the top of the stairs as he looked up on taking the first step of ascent. She was a figment of his warped imagination he knew to ignore but he couldn't look away, couldn't close down on the twisted mirage that stood before him.

"It's a good job I'm out the picture..." Chloe Macready stated her hands on her hips, dressed in a short black leather dress, her blonde hair tipped with purple highlights. "...I wouldn't get a look in with all the new women in your life."

He walked past her, continued along the corridor; the door to Ari's room at the far end of the corridor slightly ajar allowing bright sunshine to spill across the wall ahead to his left. The door to the 'play room' as Ari called it was ominously left cast in partial shadow, the sunlight not quite able to reach far enough along the wall. Pausing looking back Chloe had disappeared, but her words still seemed to echo on his ears.

Balancing the tray on his left forearm he stabbed the four-digit code into the exterior lock, hearing the latch click, a click that allowed him to open the door handle and enter the dark cool room.

HIs eyes immediately drawn to Siena. Watching as she stirred as she lay across the bed with her back to him. Dressed only in a black bra and a pair of matching panties, Logan entered the room as the door swung closed behind him. She stretched and rolled slowly on to her back, instantly looking up in his direction as she shook the effects of sleep from her slender body.

"Is that coffee?" her still sleepy eyes widened a little as she propped herself up on her elbows.

His gaze fell along her extended right leg to the heavy steel shackle locked around her slender ankle. The chain trailing across the bed from where it was firmly anchored.

"Breakfast," he simply stated, noting the aroma of the coffee himself in the stale confines of the room.

"Morning Logan," she smiled pleasantly.

**********

Ari sat cross legged with the laptop across the tops of her legs on the dark brown leather sofa watching on the screen the crystal-clear CCTV images of the two of them in the room not far above her.

No guilt or remorse as she furtively observed what was transpiring.

She'd suspected for weeks that something was transpiring between the two of them. The plan had been simple, deliciously simple in execution and brutal in actuality; bottoming more elaborate than holding Siena Mancini in an excruciating isolation. Cut off, held captive until she saw sense until she had been mentally if not physically broken. Ari knew she was taking a risk requesting Logan's assistance in such and undertaking. She watched him now studying his movements rather than the dark-haired girl he'd stood over as she devoured the plate of toast and eggs, he had prepared for her. Siena's hands now clutched around the mug of coffee she slowly sipped from. Seemingly nothing untoward about the situation playing out.

Why then was he there, why not leave her, why not just walk away?

She cursed the lack of audio on the surveillance system, which was connected to the whole house, preprogramed to capture any movement to a hard drive 24 hours a day. She hated herself for surreptitiously watching but she had even reviewed the images of the night Kimberley Adams had died, she trusted Logan implicitly but still found herself looking for evidence, within his version of events that corroborated what he'd told her to be the truth.

Other than the camera that captured the hallway leading to the stairs that showed Kimberley's movement then a short while later his there was nothing of note, nothing to suggest he hadn't told her the truth surrounding the tragedy. There were no images of what had transpired between Logan and Kimberley, there was a camera in the room, but it had not been set to record. Ari wasn't sure had the images even been available she could have brought herself to watch the intimacy or knowing Logan the lack of intimacy that played out in the young blonde's final hours.

Ari's concentration on what was now playing out before her on screen waned already. Whatever the 'modus operandi' of Logan Hughes it wasn't obvious as he paced slightly, his face partially hidden by a medical face mask. All the while she, Siena sat there making the most of and almost to Ari's mind, deliberately drawing out, finishing the contents of the mug of coffee.

Ari made to shut down the lid of the laptop not from any guilt but from a genuine lack of interest. Logan was a game player; he always had been. His cheap trick in the kitchen earlier had caught her off guard but had been nothing more than a ruse, surely.

The touch of his firm hand up her inner thigh had triggered her senses had made her feel something she'd not felt for so long. The electricity of that touch, the hushed lowered tone of his voice, his talk of a "mutual understanding ". Ari shivered as once again she focussed on him, she'd promised herself in letting him back into her life never to allow such conflict, never to permit herself to fall under the spell of his charm. To his credit Logan had never properly intimated any intent towards her. His dry wit and sarcasm passing occasional comments that could be misconstrued but she knew him, she knew the look in his eye when he was serious, when he wanted something, someone.

It was why she had raised her gaze to his and not concentrated on the firm hand up her inner thigh, she couldn't see that glint in his eye although she'd been disappointed when his hand had gone no further than the hem of her sleep shorts. His comment on her attire echoed around her mind. The intensity she'd felt, albeit insanely brief, what if she had of looked into those deep dark eyes and seen that glint? What if she hadn't placed her hand against his chest?

Ari's right hand slipped through the waistband of her cotton shorts. Shutting the laptop, placing it to her left on the sofa as she touched herself, a simple touch that soon increased in pace and intensity

Her breath hitched as she lay back against the sofa, her chest rising and falling as her fingers moved quicker, her eyes clenched tight.

Ari though of one man only.

Thinking of Logan Hughes firm touch as she slowly goaded her own pent-up climax to a heavy climax that soaked the front of her so-called unattractive attire.

**********

He was conscious of the PIR camera in the corner of the room, not that its presence was unusual given that they were littered around nearly every room in the property, but he was mindful of the little green LED as opposed to the normal red coloured diode light bulb.

Glancing up subtly every now and then he never saw the change in colour but the dark amusement as to why she'd be watching hadn't passed him by.

"Thank you," Siena offered setting the empty coffee mug next to the dirtied plate on the tray.

"No problem," Logan responded looking down at her as she sat with long legs draped across the edge of the, stained black, wooden framed bed. The chain, a constant around her ankle lay silent across the wooden floorboards.

"What's.... what's happening...what's going on out there?" She timidly offered.

"Much the same..." he offered a half truth, half lie.

Media reports claimed that the peak of the virus had passed several weeks ago based on scientific modelling. Scientific modelling that could drive paranoia on the basis of trusting not just the establishment but the behaviour of its citizens. The general population cowered behind closed doors still at request of authorities and in still very much in fear. While the numbers of cases of the virus were subsiding the death toll still grew exponentially. A time would come for the easing of restrictions and then only once the population started mixing, only when resuming normal life could judgment be made on how successful the measures implemented had been.

There's was uncertainty still as to when that would be possible, trust was vital. Knowing who to trust was more critical now than ever so it seemed. He looked down to her sincerely.

"The death toll is rising there are still thousands of new infections"

He crouched before her with the face mask across his face, his eye-line caught hers and held for moments.