AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. I need to wake the fuck up.
Jim isn’t really here trying to choke me to death. I’m just in sleep paralysis.
My brain left REM sleep before my body, leaving me trapped in a nightmarish hallucination. This vision of Jim is only my bogeyman, and the person reflected in his eyes is the part of me I resent for not leaving sooner.
Slowing my breathing, I focus every ounce of concentration on moving my pinky finger. It’s futile.
Jim squeezes harder, trying to cut off my air.
My heart accelerates.
This. Is. Not. Real.
I repeat those words over and over, trying to remain calm, even though a part of me believes I’ve found my way back into his clutches. When the woman reflected in his pupils shrieks, my body jerks awake.
My head pounds, and sunlight streams through my closed eyelids. The membranes of my throat scratch and burn, as though I’ve spent the entire night trying to scream through being choked.
I must have been sleeping for hours, because the warmth of Roman’s chest against my back is gone. Shudders run down my spine, and I exhale a shaky breath.
No matter what Jim said last night, I won’t let him drag me back to his house.
No man will ever make me their captive.
I open an eye and wince against the bright light. Through blurry vision, I glance across the white bedroom to an empty balcony and then to an open door that leads to an unoccupied bathroom. At some point last night, he must have retired to his bedroom.
I tell myself this is probably for the best as I heave my legs out of bed. If Roman gave me another round of sex, I might never want to leave, and that would be disastrous.
I shuffle over to a door that leads to a walk-in closet lined with empty rails devoid of clothes. Vague recollections from last night filter through my brain fog. I was so drunk that I left my dress in the back of Roman’s limousine.
Shit. How much did I fucking drink?
Turning a full circle, I survey the room. I’m still partially drunk and in a stupor, but there’s no sign of his jacket. Maybe I can fashion a toga out of the bedsheets and wander around until I can find someone to help.
When I try the door that leads to the staircase, it’s locked.
No.
Fucking.
Way.
I can’t be locked in the bedroom of a man who just slithered out of prison, off death row, no less. My fingers tighten around the doorknob. I rest my head against its wooden surface and force my breaths to slow.
Now is not the time to panic.
Maybe there’s a trick to opening this door. Some handles need to be pulled counterclockwise, and others require a little jiggling. I need to try every single door-opening technique before jumping to conclusions.
I turn it to the left, and it doesn’t budge, then to the right and still nothing. I try pulling it, shaking it, and even pressing down. But. It. Won’t. Budge.
My jaw clenches, and the pulse between my ears pounds hard enough to drown out the desperate roar of blood. This can’t be happening. I can’t have walked into another man’s snare.
I’m naked.
Trapped.
In a mafia mansion.
By a man tried and convicted for murder.
