Misery At Cocoa Chalet

It had been that dazzling smile with the twinkling dimples that did me in. She had that kind of smile that demanded your attention no matter who you were or what you were doing. It mesmerized you into believing that she was purely perfect and perfectly pure without knowing a damn thing about her. It’s awful how we can allow something as trivial as beauty guide our actions without any further consideration. It’s not like such a thing tells you anything about a person; not about their life history, morals, or least of all – their sanity. Yet, as soon as we see a pretty thing we want to be it, be like it, be a part of it – and we’re willing ignore any red flags that come with it all because the pretty thing is a pretty thing.

Of course, I’m only being so upstanding now because it was Day 27 and it was becoming more apparent to me that this was going to be my death bed. I’d had 27 days to plea to the universe (and her) to let me go and to sit in my victimhood. My mind had been through fear, desperation, pain, and anger more times than I could count until this point and now – with my requests for safety and freedom having been denied for 27 days straight – I supposed I had entered a period of self-reflection. Although my predicament was unwarranted, I couldn’t in good conscience say that couldn’t have prevented this. When I look back, not only were their plenty of red flags, but it wasn’t the first time I experienced a bad situation that started off with the chase of a pretty thing.

My thoughts froze instantly as did every mechanical breath and tick of my body when the music sounded off loudly without warning. Even after my mind called for calm once realizing I wasn’t in any immediate danger, my heart continued to pound against my chest. My legs, which I thought for sure had died since I couldn’t feel them anymore, shivered violently against their restraints.

Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom

Well, who am I to keep you down?

It’s only right that you should play the way you feel it

But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness

To think a song that used to bring me warm feelings of nostalgia with memories of my mother swaying freely in our kitchen, now brought me sheer terror as I tried to anticipate what torture the woman on the other side of the cabin would wreak on me, was quite a mind trip. I could hear her voice now intertwining with that of Stevie Nicks, which was hauntingly beautiful. Somehow the fact that the woman, who’d taken a mallet to my left knee on Day 11 like a game of Whac-A-Mole, sang beautifully added an extra chill to my nightmare.

We met 51 days ago after both our thumbs swiped right on each other’s faces a week prior to that. Neither of us had taken the time to list anything substantial on our profiles other than the things we liked about ourselves that we thought others might find pretty. Our conversations within the week prior to our meeting in person were equally as vapid. We spent more time painting ourselves as pretty people to hide our insecurities from each other than we did trying to get to know each other. When I first met her in the flesh for dinner, I’d been so taken by how beautiful she was that she could have shit herself on purpose and I would have found an excuse for it. An exaggeration…but you get my drift. I remember telling my closest friends afterwards that the date had been a blast, which now I realize only really meant that she was super hot and she didn’t shit her pants.

We met up again two days later and that time we spent the night together. I mean, because what else did two good looking people who were potty trained need to know about each other before agreeing to commit our genes and germs to each other? We were in it for the stimulation simulation after all, not so much the genuine connection. We were only fooling ourselves pretending that we were just like everyone else who simply wanted true love so that we could spare ourselves from admitting how extremely vain we really were. At least, that’s what I’d come to realize about myself within my reflection of these past 27 days. After the abduction, shattered knee, waterboarding, and what I could only suspect was either a dislocated shoulder, broken collar bone, or both – I could honestly say I couldn’t put a finger on what the roots were of this pretty thing’s issues.

We’d spent the first three weeks of our relationship together swapping between reenactments of our first and second dates with slight variations. I can admit our conversations did eventually get deeper, however. In fact, in the middle of our third week together she surprised me with an early “third week anniversary” gift, which was a 24k gold black diamond promise ring. My stomach sank as soon as I opened the box. This, coupled with the fact that she’d already unpacked half of her wardrobe into the other half of my closet the day prior without asking me really made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

When I didn’t light up at the sight of the gift the way she expected, she attempted to explain herself by pouring her heart out and telling me that she knew “it seemed fast,” but that “life felt like a fairytale” with me and that “fate had aligned the stars for us perfectly so that our love could only continue to grow.” It would have all been a fantastic prank that probably would have led me to fall in love with her for real had only she’d added the “just kidding!” and hysterical laughter at the end of it all. Instead, what I got was an emotional breakdown complete with crocodile tears and accusations of infidelity on my part because she needed to know the real reason why I was not on board with our fairytale marriage.

I managed to calm her down with sweet little lies for her to snack on until I could fully plan my getaway. Two days later, I arranged for us to have dinner at her place. I drove there with all her belongings in a suitcase ready for her to reclaim. I waited until the end of the dinner to break things off. The slew of emotions that flashed across her lovely face were undeniable, but she chose to swallow them down much to my satisfaction and she agreed that maybe a break was best. We gave each other empty assurances that we would both remain friends and she gave me a slice of her homemade chocolate cake as a peace offering.

It was probably the best damn chocolate cake I’d ever had, but that was the last thing I remember thinking that night. When I awoke, I was tied to the same bed I lay in now. Each limb was bound tightly to each corner of the bedframe along with thick straps securing my torso to the bed as well. I learned from her shortly after awaking that we were in her grandparents’ chalet in the middle of nowhere.

The first week was the most hostile as I was obviously emotionally charged about the situation. She told me that she did it to “save our relationship.” Now, I lay drenched in my own cold sweat with my body both numb and in excruciating pain from all my failed attempts to escape that followed with her brutal punishments. I’d lost all my fire and felt myself giving up. It wasn’t that I wanted to die. I just couldn’t see how I could save myself in the shape that I was in.

When she burst through the door with that bright dimply smile on her face, I barely had a single thought cross my mind. My body was still reacting with terror, but my mind could care less. I didn’t even shift my gaze to her as she spun round and round with the music that was drifting throughout the chalet.

When I didn’t give her the attention she wanted, she spun over and kissed me on the forehead.

“Eew! Babe, you’re all sweaty!” She exclaimed playfully as if I wasn’t a mangled mess being held against my will. “We’ll have to get you all cleaned up later – but for now, I have a huge surprise!”

She dashed out of the room and came back with an incredible chocolate cake that she placed on the nightstand. I’d told her chocolate cake was my favorite dessert on our first date and she never forgot it. Although I could admit her chocolate cakes were amazing, there was no way in hell I’d fall for that trick again.

After she sat me up in the bed, she brushed my hair back with her fingers and smiled lovingly like a true psychopath.

“Paul, I want us to make it,” she said dropping her fingers from my hair to play with my fingers. “I want us to go back to the way things were when we loved each other more than anyone else in the world. After everything we’ve been through these past few days, I wasn’t sure if we would make it. I really came to a place where I almost gave up on you.”

The way she said it with such finality and that now infamous disappearing smile told me what she really meant. Such dark laced words did nothing coming from her anymore, though. I’d seen it all. Do it, bitch.

“Then the heavens showed me the light again. To show me exactly why we were meant to be here with each other. We both have a higher purpose here on this earth and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to ensure we fulfill our life’s purpose together.”

She then reached for the restraints on my good arm and began to undo them. We made eye contact knowingly feeling each other out.

“I trust you,” she said as she helped lower my arm slowly. I was surprised by how painfully relieving that was with it being my good arm. I sat in that relief allowing my mind to block her out for a few glorious moments as she continued her crazy talk. I reminisced on a random memory from when I was nine years old and had gotten my head stuck in a hole in the wall. I screamed vehemently thinking I’d be stuck there forever. My mother came running in to save me as I knew she would. And just like that, everything was fine. She had an amazing knack for saving my world all the time and just thinking about her now gave me a small dose of comfort. Maybe thinking of her like this now was her sending me a sign from her place in Heaven that everything would be alright.

I slowly came back to the present feeling my subconscious screaming at to pay attention to what was happening.

“Did you hear what I said?” The Pretty Thing asked me now with joyful tears welling in her eyes.

I hadn’t heard her but was sure I hadn’t missed much. I looked down at my hand in her hands that she had pressed to her stomach. My eyes then drifted to the plastic digital stick that sat in her lap with a tiny plus sign on the middle of it and felt my stomach sink even worse than it did with the promise ring.

Nope, this was definitely not okay.