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t a while ago, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know,” I stuttered, movin’ around the kitchen island as he advanced. “I don’t have any idea what your plans are.” Charlie watched me, his midnight blue eyes narrowing. He lifted his hands up, as if in surrender, and took two steps backward.
Folding his arms, he leaned against the steel fridge. I looked away, trying not to notice the way his muscles screamed against his skin. “I told you, girl. I’m here to take you home.”
“Then why am I still here?”
“You’re not ready.”
The hell I’m not. He had said that three days ago. “What will it take to prove to you that I am?” I leaned forward on the granite countertop, desperate and searching. Who did this guy think he was? Why did he get a say in my life? Charlie looked me once in the eyes and then shifted his gaze to the floor.
We remained like that for at least ten minutes. Finally, I lifted my hands from the countertop. It was clear Charlie wasn’t going to answer me.
“When you came to get me,” I said, shaking my head. “I thought I was safe. Clearly I was just trading in one prison for another.” Charlie’s gaze whipped back to me, the midnight stare sucking me deep.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, girl.”
“Oh yeah? Then why do you call me ‘girl’?” I asked, leaning in again. “You know my name. Could it be that you’re distancin’ yourself from me? For when you break the news that I’m never goin’ home?” Like a lion on the prowl, Charlie stalked around the island. Shoulders hunched, gaze fixed on me, I felt like an antelope caught at the wrong time. I knew I should move. I knew I should run. But I couldn’t. I was utterly tied.
Charlie stopped only inches from me. At that angle, I was intensely aware of his height and mass. It was like being in the wake of a planet—strong, powerful, all-encompassing. I opened my mouth to speak, but only breaths came out. Charlie grabbed my chin and there was no gentleness in the action.
“Vera,” he said. My name on his lips wasn’t reverence. It wasn’t adoration. It was an ownership and grimness heard only by mourners. Abruptly, Charlie let go of me. He stalked past me and out of the room. I was like a bomb survivor in his wake. I still felt his presence like shrapnel in my skin, and I still tasted his voice like toxic gas in my system.
* * *
Hours later I touched a bruise, looking at myself in the full-length mirror. It sat right above my left breast and was turning a garish yellow-green; at least that meant it was healing. I was almost completely healed. The scars Cruz left behind would only be emotional, so at least there was that.
I brought my hand to the mirror itself, touchin’ the girl that stared back. Was that me? The one without the smile. The one without the laughter.
“Excuse me.” I turned to see Charlie standin’ in the doorway, holdin’ a tray—presumably dinner. Maybe it was a peace offerin’, or maybe he intended to continue what he’d stopped earlier that day. Despite my nakedness, there was no blush on his face. Sure he’d seen me naked before when rescuin’ me from Cruz, but this was different.
Before I was practically a child, curled up and broken. Now I was healing. I was gettin’ my curves back. I was standin’ tall again. Still, Charlie didn’t shy away or apologize. When he spoke he was merely announcin’ his presence.
He gave me a once over, looking at me from top to bottom and bottom to top. He spared no feelings when he devoured me, making sure I knew he saw everything from my toes, to my pussy, to my face. Maybe if I had been a different person I would have felt what most do: shame, embarrassment, bashfulness, the usual. I wasn’t most.
Before Cruz had stolen me away, I’d been a cam girl. I got naked and fucked myself on camera for money. It was like porn, but a bit different. I did it for people live and I fulfilled their requests. I’d always been a sex positive person, much to my mother’s chagrin. I had tried to fit her mold of a perfect Catholic Latina princess, but that just wasn’t in the cards for me.
“When are you going to be done with that?” I asked, gesturing at the dinner tray.
“Can’t let you starve.” Charlie walked over to the nightstand and set the tray down, like he’d done all the days I’d been there. “Not on my watch.” He folded his arms, regarding me again. I’d been naked for countless men and women. My body had become like the statues in museums, the curves memorized by everyone. Yet, when Charlie looked at me, I felt new. I felt exposed. I felt different.
I shrugged at him, tryin’ to convey nonchalance, and threw on a sweater.
“Don’t get dressed on my account,” he said, taking a seat on the bed. He watched as I pulled on a pair of jeans.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, throwing Charlie the finger over my back.
* * *
Breakfast didn’t come the next day. I didn’t realize how much I depended on that little bit of human interaction until lunch, when again I didn’t see his face. Charlie hadn’t shown any anger when I left my room the day before. In fact, he’d almost seemed excited. I know I can leave…
I stared at the wooden door. I know it’s unlocked. I know I can leave the room any minute…but I’m afraid. Not of Charlie, not the way I was of Cruz, but of what he’s doin’ to me. I felt excitement. I felt tingly. I felt terror. He’s not like the other men I’ve dated or fucked. He’s nothin’ like them. With them I could leave any time. With Charlie, I feel compelled toward him.
Standin’ up from the bed, I shook the thought out of my head. Clearly I was traumatized. There was no way I could feel anything for someone like Charlie. Charlie was dangerous and probably insane. You’d have to be insane to come and rescue some worthless girl like me.
I stepped into the closet and fingered the nice clothes Charlie had presumably bought for me. I didn’t understand. There were cashmere sweaters, gorgeous lingerie, and expensive jeans. Why would he do that? I frowned, throwin’ on the most expensive looking one. Because screw it, right? I wasn’t going to live like this forever.
Hopefully. I mean, that was the plan. The plan was to leave.
