"Ride me and I might consider." His voice dropped to a dangerously low whisper, the kind that crawled under your skin and nestled there, cold and suffocating. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke. The hands on my body were invasively rough.
"Now let's talk about my rules, alright?" he murmured, his tone soft yet laced with menace.
I could only nod, my breath caught in my throat, every instinct screaming at me to run, but my legs refused to move. Fear rooted me in place, binding me tighter to his will.
"I have some business to take care of. Till then, you'll stay here, in this suite. Try to run," he continued, "and I'll hunt you down."
His grip on my waist tightened, and I winced.
"Let any man near you," he whispered, his lips brushed against my ear, "and I'll fuck you in his blood."
"Disobey me," he hand moved behind me and settled over my arse before he gave it a sharp squeeze, "and your ass will pay."
The pale gaze bored into mine, daring me to challenge him, to resist. I swallowed hard and nodded.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to study my face, searching for any flicker of rebellion. I kept my eyes downcast, my body trembling under his scrutiny, every part of me screaming to get away, but there was nowhere to go. He'd trapped me, body and soul, and he was enjoying it.
"Good girl," he bit his lips. "You're learning."
The fingers trailed down my arm and then he released my wrist, though his eyes never left mine. "Now, make sure you remember your place, hmm?"
I swallowed hard, my throat dry and aching, as I nodded, my voice long gone. All I could do was follow his lead, trapped in the nightmare he'd created for me. And as the reality of my situation settled in, I knew with terrifying clarity that this was only the beginning.
*****
I barely made it back to the room before I heard the front door click shut. The unmistakable sound of the lock sliding into place echoed in the silence. I didn't need to check. He'd locked me in.
The bastard.
I stood there, frozen, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on me like a lead blanket. My pulse hammered in my ears, drowning out the silence. There was no escape. No way to contact anyone. Just me, trapped in this gilded cage.
I stumbled to the bed, collapsing onto it face-first, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Kicking my feet against the mattress like a petulant child, but it didn't help. The anger and frustration boiled inside me like a cauldron of emotions I couldn't control. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
I turned onto my back, staring blankly at the ceiling. There was no way out of this. He'd made sure of that. No phone, no contact, no way to reach anyone. Just the cold realization that I was completely, utterly alone.
My fingers twisted the sheets, gripping them so hard my knuckles turned white. It was all I could do to keep from screaming. But what would be the point? He'd already won. The moment that door clicked shut, I was his.
A tear slid down my cheek, and I let it. There was nothing else to do. No fight left in me, just the sickening truth that this was my life now. Trapped. Helpless. His.
And for the first time, I knew-I'd never escape him.
I lay there, every inch of my body aching, the pain in my foot a dull throb that refused to be ignored. The towel barely clung to my skin like a flimsy barrier against the cold air of the room, but I was too drained to care.
My eyes fluttered shut, the weight of everything pressing down on me like a heavy blanket, suffocating in its intensity. The ceiling blurred above me, and my thoughts grew fuzzy, edges softening as exhaustion crept in, taking hold.
I didn't mean to sleep. I didn't want to. But the darkness was too inviting, too peaceful compared to the storm raging inside me. My body, defeated by the events of the day, began to shut down, each breath coming slower, deeper.
The tension slipped from my limbs as if it had never been there. My grip on the sheets loosened, fingers uncurling as the last of my fight ebbed away. I was floating now, drifting further into the quiet, into the dark.
And just like that, I was gone, slipping into unconsciousness still wrapped in nothing but him and the remnants of his touch clinging to my skin like a curse.
******
Morning light seeped through the curtains dragging me awake. I sat up, feeling every muscle protest, and looked around the room. The silence was heavy, oppressive. He was gone. And still not back. I was glad. And too relieved that I almost forgot my foot was sprained and tumbled as soon as I placed it on the floor.
I caught myself on the edge of the bed, biting down a curse as the sharp pain shot up my leg. I looked down and winced.
My foot was swollen.
I hobbled toward the window and pulled the drapes back slightly to let more light in. The city outside was just beginning to stir, oblivious to the nightmare I was living. For a second, I wondered what it would be like to just disappear into the crowd below, to blend in and be forgotten.
But that was a fantasy. The reality was this room, this pain, this gnawing emptiness that followed every clash with him.
Letting out a deep sigh, I turned around, wrapping the towel tightly around me. This wasn't helping either.
I was about to walk to the bathroom when my gaze drifted to the table where small box laid. I wouldn't have noticed it, but the fact that there were three more large bags beside it, I just couldn't ignore it.
A small part of me hoped it was all a bad dream, that if I reached for it, I'd find a way out. But deep down, I knew better.
I took a breath and forced myself to walk again, favoring my uninjured foot.
My fingers brushed over the box, and as I opened it, my breath lodged into my throat. It was a phone. Brand new.
Why did he leave me a phone after breaking mine? The man was bipolar to be exact. He did things his way, however he see fit, and it never bothered him how much his actions could cause someone pain.
Emotionally unstable man.
My hands clenched around the box as I grabbed the device. The screen lit up, but there was nothing-no messages, no missed calls. Just a clean slate juts like a mockery of the life that had been wiped away. I set it down, feeling more alone than ever.
What would I do with it? Play sudoku?
So he was here. And the fact that I must have been sleeping with just a towel wrapped around, was both horrifying and astonishing.
He must have left these. Anxious, I ran my hand through the hair wincing at the reality. What had I life become? I just wanted to study and get a job, to support my family and this…. Judas ruined everything.
And he wasn't even sorry for that.
Before the ache in my chest could intensify, I grabbed the other two bags and opened them rather roughly. And to my surprise, there were clothes. Judas mentioned Kyle would bring some clothes, did Kyle left them or was it Judas?
At this point I hardly cared.
I opened one, pulling out a plain sweater that a tag of luxury brand and a pair of jeans of same brand. And there were more sweaters, coats and some socks too. Except anything to wear underneath.
The bastrad forgot to buy me undergarments. Or did he do that intentionally.
Oh and there were no shoes or flats. He wanted me to roam in the apartment bare foot.
Heaving a sigh, I limped to the bathroom.
I had no right to cry about the clothes. I should be glad he even left me some. That apathetic man could flip like a switch, and who knew if he'd decide to take these clothes back? I couldn't afford to roam in the apartment with nothing on. Something was better than nothing.
I walked to the shower all while avoiding looking myself at the mirror. I knew what I'd see and I knew I wouldn't like it. I'd definitely break down. So I preferred washing myself quickly.
The hot water scalded my skin, but I welcomed the burn, letting it seep into my bones as if it could wash away the thoughts clinging to me like a second skin. But they stayed, persistent and invasive, curling around my mind like vines strangling the last of my peace.
Would he ever let me go?
The question circled, gnawing at the edges of my sanity. I had college to attend, assignments piling up like a mountain I could no longer climb. His... unorthodox obsession, it had to be temporary, didn't it? But what then? What would happen when the allure faded, when he grew tired of this twisted game? How would I ever catch up on the life I was supposed to be living?
A shiver cut through me, sharp and cold despite the heat of the shower. I needed to approach him, but with caution. He'd hinted at giving me a sliver of freedom, though not in words. It was more like a whispered promise in the way he acted-as if I was of no use to him beyond the bed.
Maybe, just maybe, he'd get bored. Maybe this would all end, and I could piece together the remnants of my life. But even as I thought it, doubt slithered into my mind. What if he didn't? What if I was never more than a pawn, trapped in his sick version of a fairy tale?
I stilled, my breath hitching as panic clawed at my chest. The voices in my head grew louder, echoing all the possibilities I didn't want to confront. No, I couldn't let myself spiral. There was no way he'd...
But the thought trailed off, incomplete, as fear settled deep in my gut. I didn't want to go there. Couldn't. I had to focus on what I could control, no matter how small it seemed.
After what felt like an eternity under the water, I forced myself to shut it off, leaving the bathroom behind with a sense of finality. Each step back into reality was like stepping onto glass, every movement sharp and cautious. The clothes he'd left were a strange comfort, grounding me in the present, in the act of getting dressed. But the pain in my foot was a constant reminder of my fragility, my helplessness in this situation.
As I dressed, I tried to push away the dread clinging to me. I needed to act normal, or at least something close to it. I couldn't afford to show weakness, not when I was constantly being watched, judged. But no matter how hard I tried to put on a brave face, the fear lingered beneath the surface, a dark cloud that I couldn't shake.
I caught my reflection in the mirror, and the girl staring back looked like a ghost of who I used to be-pale, eyes wide with worry, lips pressed into a thin line. This wasn't me. It couldn't be.
But it was. And no amount of pretending could change that.
The dread settled deeper as I finished dressing.
The sweater was the perfect fit and so were the jeans but the fact that I was wearing nothing underneath them was bothering me. At least they were better than the towel.
I moved back to the table, picking up the phone again. It felt cold in my hand, offering no comfort, no connection to the world I was desperately missing. Just silence.
Without thinking, I tapped in my mother's number. Muscle memory. The one number I knew by heart, the one link to the life that felt like a distant memory.
It rang. And rang.
The seconds stretched, the panic coiled tighter in my chest until it felt like I might choke on it.
When the line finally clicked open, I nearly dropped the phone.
"Hello?" Her voice, familiar, grounding, brought tears to my eyes. But I couldn't let them fall. Not now.
"Mama." The word came out shaky, barely a whisper. And I knew I'd cry. My legs gave out and I collapsed on the couch.
Whatever happened in last few weeks came crashing down but I bit my lips hard to not cry.
"Sera, is that you? What's wrong?"
Everything. Nothing. I didn't know where to start. My grip on the phone tightened as I fought to find my voice, to pull myself together. I had to be strong, even if I felt like I was crumbling.
"Are you okay?" Her concern sliced through me, a painful reminder of everything I was keeping from her. "You said you'd be home, but your college called saying you had a emergency."