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Of course, it’s not, but I just want some sort of response from this giant cloaked figure.
“I have a lot of it,” I continue on, conversationally. “No one would know if you smuggled me out of here—”
“Silence, whore,” he coldly retorts.
Prick.
He forces me into a room filled with stalls. It’s a clean, stone room with sconces along the walls. I get shoved into a nearby stall with a showerhead, and before I know what’s happening, lukewarm water blasts over my head, soaking me to the bone.
“Strip,” he continues to demand. “Or we will be forced to cleanse you ourselves.”
I immediately strip out of my clothes as the asshole throws a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo at my feet. Distracted, I run the coconut scented soap over my body as I look around. The water randomly goes ice cold, and I flinch as it batters over my shivering skin, an unrelenting stream—
“You washing off our come, sweetness?”
“You can’t possibly expect me to sleep in it.”
He groaned. “What if that’s what we want you to do?”
“I would do it. I’d do anything for you two.”
This is nothing likethatshower, I sourly muse, feeling violated and sick. Even though the cloaked man is masked, he seems…bored, like this is just another day, another captive forced in a stall before who the fuck knows what happens next.
He turns away, stomping around like he’s sort of antsy. Like maybe it’s fucking lunch hour soon and he wants his time off.
Adrenaline zips through my body suddenly as he turns his back to me.
It’s an incredibly stupid thing to do—
I will probably get beaten black and blue, but there’s a rebellious nature in me, a seed of it that’s grown over the years, sprouting like weeds in the centre of me.
Don’t do it, Skye.
Don’t—
I bolt, naked and drenched.
I blindly run out of the stall, out of the room, disappearing down a long corridor as the man chases after me. And then another cloaked figure joins. I glance over my shoulder, catching their tall forms in the dim lit halls, like spooky grim reapers of the night. I’ll be caught, I’m certain of it, but I’m chasing after those voices, the ones in my head, the ones that belong to two loves of my life.
I’m here to find you…
I’m here to take you home…
I run until my ribs ache, until the images of my eighteenth birthday come to me one image after the next.
I’m chasing after my men.
After the start of that next stage of our relationship.
I run to those memories like they are arms that have spread open for me, and I leap into them.
“Let’s give the birthday girl what she wants.”
