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Why? Why does this have to happen?
Is this why I couldn’t kill her? Because I’m infatuated with her?
If that’s the case, it’s all been for nothing.
It doesn’t prove anything about my ability to resist evil.
Fuck!
I slam the wall again so hard that it hurts.
I let the warm water cascade down my back.
The longer she stays, the more I succumb to bad thoughts.
Her mere presence has driven me to kill. Twice now.
But I can’t let her go either. There’s no way out of this. I have to keep her, for as long as it takes, for as long as I need to. I don’t even know why … I just know that I have to for my sake. Even though it comes at a hefty price: Her happiness.
After all the blood is gone and I’m clean, I get out from under the shower and dry off. My mind’s still going in circles about what just happened and how she thought I might’ve been wounded. She actually thought I was the one hurt?
Or does she know now what kind of a monster I am?
She shouldn’t have come in, shouldn’t have touched my shit, but she couldn’t ignore her curiosity.
I shouldn’t have touched her, sniffed her, licked her … but God, she tasted so fucking good. But then she ran away … because of me.
Wearing nothing but a towel, I walk out of the shower and to my bedroom. I don’t even go check on her because I just can’t stomach seeing her face right now. I know I’m an animal. I don’t need confirmation.
I throw off my towel and lie down in bed naked, staring up at the ceiling.
No matter how many times I close my eyes, I can’t force myself to sleep.
Can’t do anything but … think of her.
Those beautiful eyes and that sexy body I just want to fuck.
And I already know, sooner or later … it’s going to happen.
Self-control isn’t my best asset. It never was.
Chapter Nine
Accompanying Song: “Goodbye” by Apparat ft. Soap & Skin
Syrena
I’m in bed, but I can’t sleep.
How could anyone when they just caught someone washing out blood?
There was no mistaking it; I could smell it.
But why would he lie about it?
Why wouldn’t he tell me he got into a fight?
Or is it something else he’s trying to hide?
There’s so much I don’t understand about this man. Why he’d try to kill me one moment and then take care of me the next as if nothing ever happened. It’s as if he can change his personality with the snap of a finger, and I don’t know whether I should be scared or intrigued.
There’s something about him … and I want to find out what it is.
Something so much deeper than is on the surface.
But why should I? This man is keeping me a prisoner in his house.
I shouldn’t even remotely care about wanting to find out who he really is, yet … I can’t stop myself from thinking about exactly that.
When we were in the bathroom, he touched me in a way he hadn’t before.
Like he was … craving me.
I felt his tongue on my ear and his fingers on my cheeks, touching me delicately as if he wanted to caress me. Make me feel wanted.
And it did, which is what scared me so much.
How does this man have so much control over me when I don’t want him to? I don’t even know him. He’s fucking dangerous, yet I was as meek as a lamb the moment he pushed me against the wall and whispered in my ear.
My only choice was to run.
There’s no way I could ever let him get close.
Right?
That’s what I tell myself as I curl up in bed and wrap the blanket around me, wondering how life outside this house is moving on without me. I think about my previous home, the club, my life before the compound, and I come to the conclusion that I literally have nothing to be happy about.
Tears well up in my eyes, wishing it wasn’t true.
This place—this spacious home and soft, comfortable bed, and the delectable food he cooks—can’t be the best thing I’ve ever lived.
I refuse to believe that, because if I do … I may never want to leave.
Accompanying Song: “Industry” by Mire Kay
Three years ago
I hug my teddy bear for the last time before placing it back on my bed. My friends here always told me I was too old to have a teddy bear, but I don’t care. It’s important to me.
I don’t want to leave it there because it’s the only reminder I have that someone’s out there waiting for me, and if I don’t leave it, they’ll never know I was here. They’ll never be able to pick it up again and find the message tucked in the lining that says “I’m waiting for you to take me home.”
