Tied to You

Secrets

The rain beats down the side of the bus and I shiver in my coat, despite the heat blasting out through the heaters. Despite being back in London for over a week now, my body still hasn't re-acclimatised to the December weather after the glorious sunshine I have been used to. Lost in my memories of Bali and riding elephants in the reserve, I almost miss my stop, but thankfully someone else rings the bell, breaking me out of my reverie.

I hurry through the rain as I make the short walk home along the square, the park beside me completely invisible in the inclement weather. I finally make it to the front door, where I hurriedly let myself in. As I hang up my dripping coat and stow my umbrella away, I am aware of the silence of the house and wonder whether Alex will make it back tonight.

Each night since we got back, I have made him dinner and waited up with no success. And every morning when I wake the dinner has been placed in the fridge uneaten. On the flight back to London, it was like the easy-going, friendly guy I had got to know just vanished, and in his place, I was now living with the steely-eyed man I met at the auction instead. I am not sure what precipitated the change, but life feels very different from the easy-going friendship that we had whilst we were away.

I am about to make my way up to the top floor, where I have my own suite of rooms when I notice the door down to the basement is slightly ajar. My breath quickens as the memory returns of Alex telling me, quite sternly, on our arrival that I was not to go down there under any circumstances. Truthfully, if he had never said anything, I would have probably never even thought about venturing down into a dark, dank basement, but something about his tone made me curious. Until now the door has been firmly locked with an electronic combination pad, but seeing it open makes me want to go down and see what exactly Alex has been hiding.

After a couple of moments of hesitation, I decide to hell with it and push the door open quietly. I listen carefully to work out whether anyone is down there, but I hear nothing. I make my way down the dark stairs, not sure about what I am expecting to see. Alex has hinted about his alternative lifestyle and I sense the basement is linked to this, but really, the word 'alternative' could mean anything. By the time I reach the bottom step, I am in pitch darkness. I put out my hand and immediately find a switch, which I flick on.

Soft light illuminates the room and it takes me a few minutes to comprehend what I am looking at. The room must run the length of the house and is open plan, so I step forward trying to grasp what I am actually looking at. The walls are a deep crimson, giving the place a womb-like feeling. In a corner stands a giant wooden cross with what looks like restraints set into it. On one wall I see racks holding whips, canes of various sizes and even what I recognise to be a bullwhip. Holy s**t! In the centre of the room is a raised platform, about the size of a bed, covered in a silky-looking throw. Against the far wall is a large leather couch and dotted around are low benches and stools. In the farthest corner, I see a shower cubicle with a couple of robes hung up on the wall.

My subconscious is screaming a word over and over in my mind: b**m. What the hell? I am no innocent…I read enough, but this is beyond my comprehension. Suddenly a noise behind me startles me and I whip my head around.

"What the hell are you doing down here?" Alex growls at me, his voice filled with ice.

"Uh, uh, the door was open," I say, my face flushing with shame, knowing that I have been caught out.

"I told you not to come down here," Alex states harshly, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

I stare at my feet. "Sorry," I say quietly. "So this is the big secret?" I ask. "Why didn't you just tell me? I am not an i***t, you know." I shudder slightly as I cast my eye around the room, and Alex catches the motion, causing his already explosive face to darken further.

"Does this disgust you?" he hisses into my face so forcefully that I find myself having to take a step back.

"I…I don't know what to think," I say truthfully. "So you hit women. Is that your thing?" I can suddenly understand why Alex would not want his family to know about this. Sheila Davenport is such a strong, independent woman and I am not sure how she would handle the knowledge that her son smacks girls around for fun.

Alex towers over me and I find myself shrinking back. The Alex I knew in Australia would never hurt me, but this one…this one I am not so sure about. "No one who comes here does it unwillingly," Alex states bluntly. I find my eyes drawn to his and when I stare into their depths I can see honesty shining back at me, along with pleading, as if he is subconsciously begging me to understand. I don’t doubt his self-belief in whatever he has convinced himself of, but I begin to question every word he has told me to this point.

I find myself so overwhelmed that I cannot think straight, so I run, pushing past Alex, straight up to my room. I am out of breath when I finally slam the door shut behind me, sinking to the ground. The images of everything down in that room play over and over in my mind as I try to process it all, including the change in Alex's demeanour. I wait for clarity, but it never comes.