Page 19 of His Pet

He comes toward me with his hand outstretched, and the fury rushes back inside me full force.

“Here, give that to me before you hurt yourself.”

I bar my teeth and jump toward him while slashing the knife, this time connecting. Blood sprays out of Lorenzo’s forearm, and his eyes widen as he peers down at it. I rear the knife back, and when I jab it toward Lorenzo’s chest, he kicks me in my stomach, propelling me backward.

The chain loses its slack, and a sharp yank on my throat sends me into a coughing fit as soon as I plummet to the floor. The knife falls from my hand, and when I go to grab it again, Lorenzo kicks it from my reach.

I lay on my side, coughing uncontrollably, and squeeze my eyes shut. My body is in too much shock for me to cry, and as minutes pass, that shock slowly eases. Lorenzo’s footsteps echo outside the room, and a sink turns on.

The first tear pushes through my closed lid, and a torrent ensues. Sobs rack my shoulders, and loud mewling sounds come from my mouth. I feel Lorenzo when he’s back in the room, but I refuse to open my eyes.

I feel him come closer and expect his shoe to connect with my ribcage or for him to yank my hair. I wait.

And wait.

My sobs ease until I’m lying on my side with my eyes closed, and the only sounds that come from me are the heavy breaths I expel through my mouth. My nose is filled with snot, and I have the overwhelming urge to wipe away the excess, but my arms don’t lift.

What is going on?

I lay here for several more minutes, convinced he’s waiting for me to open my eyes so I’ll see what’s coming. Maybe it’s more fun for him that way. It gets to a point where I can’t take it any longer.

Slowly, I peel my eyes open and blink. Lorenzo, standing with his shoes inches from my face, comes into my focus.

I peer up and meet his curious eyes.

Curious?

I squint, studying him, and now I’m certain it’s curiosity. He doesn’t look like he’s about to strike. He looks like he might whip out a pad and start taking notes.

“What are you doing?” I croak. I wince and put my hand to my throat. The chain choking me coupled with my crying has it sore beyond belief.

“Watching you.”

I narrow my eyes when he kneels next to me, but I don’t move. His gaze travels my body, wrapped up in a now destroyed Balenciaga. I follow his gaze. My heart stops when I see blood smeared on my chest, but then I realize it isn’t mine.

My eyes snap to his forearm where I cut him. There’s a bandage covering the slash. Red seeps through the white cotton.

“What does it feel like?”

“Huh?” I ask, meeting his gaze.

He’s staring at me in a way that makes me feel naked. The dress might as well be in a pile on the other side of the room. His shirt is still off, and that adds to the sensation.

I try not to look at any of his scars, focusing instead on the golden flecks in his irises. The last thing I want to do right now is insult him.

He waves a hand over my body like that should answer my question, and when my face wrinkles with confusion, he sighs. “What does it feel like to fear for your life?” He waves a hand over me again. “What’s happening with you right now?”

“Are you going to kill me?” I ask, my shoulders caving in on me. My lip trembles, and I can feel the emotion working its way back up my throat.

He frowns and raises back to his feet. “Never mind,” he says with a shake of his head. With that, he leaves the room.

I close my eyes and let out a cry, my throat protesting. I lay on the floor and hope with everything I have that he doesn’t come back. I’d rather die here from dehydration than die by his hands.

My hope shrivels when his footsteps sound outside the door and he enters the room. He tosses something that lands with a jangle and a thunk by my head, and I open my eyes. A set of keys lay in front of me.

“Hurry up,” he says when I make no attempt to move. “You’ve already wasted enough of my time today.”

I sit slowly, my body aching, and pick the keys up off the floor.

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