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Chapter 22
SUKI
He was still in the bedroom by the time I left the bathroom and came downstairs. After he abruptly, but in a strangely polite way, left the room to take a shower earlier, I shook my confused brain and decided to do the same in the other bathroom.
Now, as I am pulling out breakfast ingredients from the fridge, I cannot help but think about the subtle, yet sudden shift in his behavior. As he held me there on top of him and I spoke those last words, I saw the monster in his eyes—he promised war as he slowly retreated. A different kind of war, because I felt the need to follow.
I am most definitely overthinking this. I shake my head for the fifth time this morning alone… I’m going to give myself whiplash. I hear his footsteps as he walks downstairs, but I carry on with making breakfast for us.
Making breakfast… for us…
“What is it?!” I hear his confused voice behind me and slowly turn around, holding the broken shell of an egg in both hands.
“Is this Stockholm? Niklas... is this what Stockholm syndrome feels like?”
“What the hell are you talking about?!” He cocks one eyebrow as he rubs the back of his head with one arm, in that pure manly way that would look even hotter if he was half naked, his thick, imperfect abs on full display.
“I am making breakfast forus. Voluntarily! Like I have accepted my fate, my goddamn captivity, Niklas!” my tone grows urgent, angry, and I wonder what the hell broke in me all of a sudden. Yet again I am making breakfast forus, like it is the most normal and natural damn thing in the world. Like we are a goddamn couple, not hunter and prey.
He shakes his head and sits on one of the barstools. “Do you want me to make breakfast?” For some reason his words make me angrier.
“Goddamn it, Niklas!” Now we really sound like a couple. Having a ridiculous fight about who is making breakfast. I cannot deal with this, this is too normal… too natural. I cannot have this, damn it! This normality that promises a future that I cannot possibly think about.
I turn back to the bowl that holds one lonely egg and just stare at it.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe...
And I feel him behind me even before I feel his arms on my shoulders.
“Go. Sit down.” I hear him say.
I do not wait for another word and I go straight outside on the porch. I let out the longest breath as I take in the calming view. It settles me instantly, and that bothers me. Running my hands through my hair, I try to let it all go, but I am not sure what bothers me more.
Is it Niklas' domesticated behavior?
Is it mine?
Is it the fact that this environment feels perfect?
Or that none of it feels wrong?
Get it together Suki, get it the hell together, otherwise you will never leave.I will always feel like I had no choice, I will hate myself for it, I will hate him for it.Focus…
After a few slow, deep breaths I am finally calm.
With every day that passes, my fear grows and unfortunately it is an internal one. I am afraid of myself more and more because he brings out the worst in me, yet he is showing me it is not the worst at all. Here lies a monster, not his, but mine and no one has seen it before... not even me. Yet I felt him stir twice and that brought forth a thirst in me, a thirst that I never, ever, want to sate.
One could argue that I have been unmoved by everything Niklas has told me... he is a murderer, a cold-blooded killer with a need for blood. He is not opportunistic, he is methodical, he is not hasty, he plans, he does not do it because he has to, he does it because his soul needs to. Yet I did not bat an eye lid... on the contrary, his story was what stirred my monster the second time.
And that scares the living hell out of me.
It awakens an unnatural craving, a depraved thirst, a horrific hunger inside of me, one that I have kept buried deep my whole life, ignoring its existence. If I stay here, with him, I will sate it and then what kind of person would I be? I cannot turn into him…
I never thought it possible, finding something I was searching for my entire life in the same place that threatens to unearth something I have been burying for the same amount of time. I want to run and stay all at the same time. How could I possibly decide which is the best choice?
I have been standing here, in the freezing cold dressed in nothing but a hoodie and a pair of boxers, and I am not entirely sure how much time has passed, but the harsh winter finally hits me. When I open the boarded-up door and step inside, the smell of pancakes and bacon assaults me. All those months Adrien fed me tasteless, strictly nutritional food, a lot of the time forcing me to eat so I would be strong enough for his games. I never realized how much I missed simply smelling good, tasty food.
I sit at the kitchen island and watch him as he finishes cooking. The ruthless Viking that threatens to destroy me... moving seamlessly through the kitchen.
