Chapter 18 A Ticking Clock
Present Day
Rain
I wince and try to stay still, attempting to ignore the burning pain across my back. The sound of the buzzing of the tattoo gun is monotonous, and I try to focus on that to block everything else out. My cuffs were back on because obviously, I had pitched a huge fit about him tattooing me. He’d put some substance on my back that was supposed to help numb the area, but if it had ever worked, it most definitely wasn’t now.
“Need a bathroom break, baby?” The tattoo gun stopped and he bent down to look into my face.
“Yes.” That was all I said, and it still came out choked and barely squeezed past my tight throat.
With that, I saw him set aside the tattoo gun and his supplies, then wipe his hands off, and reach for the cuffs. He let me go to the bathroom and do what I needed to do. After washing my hands I just stood there for a moment, and I leaned my hands against the edge of the counter. My head throbbed, my whole fucking body throbbed. I was thirsty, and my stomach was growling. I had no fucking clue what time it was, or how long he’d been at this.
He was standing leaning against the door frame watching me. He was always fucking watching me. His arms were crossed over that defined chest with all of his ab muscles on display. At least he was wearing a pair of sweats and not just naked. He’d been naked quite a lot in the last few days. I guess putting on and taking off clothes was too much effort, so he just went without, saving time when he decided to put his hands on me again.
He walked up behind me and just leaned against me, and then he nuzzled into my neck. I felt myself immediately stiffen up. He threaded his fingers through my hair and grabbed onto some, forcing my head up so I was looking in the mirror. I saw him standing over me, he was tall 6’4”, and I was 5' 8”, so he towered over me. One of his hands gripped the counter next to mine, the other kept a hold of my long hair.
He’d taken his hair down so now, those dark brown locks that I’d always thought were a deep milk chocolate lay along his shoulders. The muscles of his arms rippled as he leaned forward, putting more weight on his arm, and pushing me forward some. His skin had that sun-kissed golden look, while beside him I was pale. Right now I was especially pale due to the present circumstances and all.
“What are you thinking?” He bent his head forward and nuzzled into my neck.
“You don’t want to know what I’m thinking, you don’t honestly care what I think.” I sighed heavily and his head snapped up looking into the mirror over my shoulder.
“Wrong, baby, I want to know every single thought that goes through your head.” I felt him rub his pelvis against my ass and I closed my eyes, wondering if he was about to push me forward and fuck me again.
“Right now, I’m in pain, I’m thirsty, I’m hungry, I never wanted a tattoo. I want the parents to come home and stick you in some hospital somewhere far away from me. I want to wake up and this whole thing was nothing but a nightmare. That’s what I was thinking, so did you really want to know?” I give him a look that shows my anger.
He smirks just a bit and I wish I were big enough and strong enough to beat the absolute fuck out of him. I’m not normally a violent person. I’ll defend myself, but right now, any and every violent ounce of myself wants to kill him.
“Actually yes, I did want to know, like I said I always want to know everything you are thinking. We’ll take a break, and I’ll get you something to eat. There’s water and juice in the minifridge here. As for the rest, I knew at first you would feel that way. There will be a day when you don’t. That’s what’s important. Now we just work towards that day.” He kissed my cheek.
For him, it really was that simple. He wanted me to want him, and be with him, he wanted me to accept all of his craziness. So, he looked at it as a puzzle he could put together however he wanted. Fuck the fact that it now looked like a Picasso fingerpainting, he’d make those fukcing pieces fit no matter what.
I did wonder how many pieces I would be in by the time this ended. I wasn’t sure what day it was, so I didn’t know if there was the possibility of his dad and my mom randomly showing up or calling, I wasn’t sure how long it'd been since Zoey was here, or how close the return of the staff to full-time occupation of the house was? I was gripping onto the hope that this could still end. I didn’t want to contemplate what would happen to me if it didn’t. I wasn’t sure I would ever come back from this as it was, if he broke me much more, I wasn’t sure I would actually survive.
I heard him walking up the stairs. I turned my head to see him walking with two plates of spaghetti in his hands. He must have already had this shit made by the cook before she left the house, because he wasn’t gone long enough to cook it, and I wasn’t sure he even knew how to cook.
I watch as he grins at me while he walks past the open doorway that no longer has a door, and into the bedroom that also doesn’t have a door. Then he’s back with things in his hands, and he steps up behind me again.
“I’m going to put this aftercare cream on the tattoo and then cover it with the plastic wrap for right now. We can work more on it later, but I’m sure it’s going to take me a few days to get it all done.” I swallow at that, thinking of him subjecting me to this for days, but maybe I shouldn't be surprised. He doesn’t think or feel like we normal humans do, so he wouldn’t think about how traumatic this is for me.
Then again, he’d said he’d thought about it, but he’d blown it off, looking forward to the day I became nothing but a plastic Barbie doll for him to play with. As I look in the mirror at my face, I wonder how long it will take him to destroy me.