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So much feeling.
So much fear.
I drowned.
It’s his fault.
He did this.
He used me to get inside.
He stole my life—
A soul-wrenching sob crawled up my throat.
Wedging a fist in my mouth, I bit down, willing myself to stay silent.
It’s him.
It’s all because of him.
Tears erupted and flowed.
And you think you want him?
How could you?
My cheeks rivered with sorrow. His explicit instructions not to cry echoed in my mind. Another rule. Another law. An imprisonment as much as my cuffs and collar.
I hated them.
Hated everything.
All of it.
Everyone.
I just want to go home.
Wrenching up the blankets, I shot beneath them and cowered below. I shivered as soft cotton tortured my oversensitive skin. I groaned as lightning bolts of need darted between my legs.
I sank into a cesspit of despair and rage, sorrow and fury.
I couldn’t stop crying.
He can’t see.
You know what he’ll do…
Choking on homesickness and terror, I reached for the box of tissues by a pair of pretty birdcage-shaped cufflinks on his bedside table.
My hand shook so hard, I knocked one of them off by accident.
It plummeted to the carpet, twinkling in the light.
It landed with a soft plop. Torn from its partner. All alone on the floor.
I cried harder.
