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Good point. And I am hungry. And thirsty.
Clasping the glass, I take a big sip and it’s just now that I realize how hungover I am. My head is pounding and I take the toast and bite off a big piece. I chew and the bread is tasty but I’m too nervous to enjoy it and it feels like I’m chewing on sawdust.
“Where am I?” I swallow and he drags another smoke, blowing it out sideways so that the fumes don’t reach me. How considerate...
“Syrup Valley.” He glances at me before putting out his cigar. “Have you heard of it before?”
I shake my head.
“Most people haven’t,” he says. His big body moves like that of a prowling animal when he leans over the table and something hot stirs in my stomach. “You can’t find it on a map.”
I go cold at his words, telling myself that I need to be strong if I’m ever going to escape. “Then we’re not anywhere near Annapolis?”
That’s my hometown.
He shakes his dark head, regarding my reaction carefully and I brush my clammy hands off my skirt. My skin feels itchy and I have a weird, metallic taste in my mouth.
“People will come looking for me,” I say but he doesn’t seem the least worried. And his arrogance infuriates me because it makes me feel inferior. Then again...I am. He’s holding all the cards and I have none of my own.
“They can look all they want but they won’t find you.”
“The cops will come. You’re going to go to prison for this.”
He moves his head to the side as if he doubts it. “Men like me don’t go to prison. We own the prisons.”
There it is again. The arrogance. The power.
Trembling, I look at him in anger. “I hate you.” I hate him because in my “dream”, I wanted to give myself up to him. In my “dream” I trusted him more than anything. In reality I don’t.
The man leans back in his seat and I notice that he’s wearing a pair of sweatpants underneath the table. Just like a husband would when having breakfast in the morning with his wife.
He tilts his head forward, giving me an inquisitive look. “Then I must let you go immediately.”
There’s irony in his voice and I blurt,
“You won’t get away with this.” But something, something deep inside of me tells me that he will. I clutch the edges of the table, my nails digging into the soft wood. “If you let me go now, I won’t tell anyone about this. I promise.”
“Finish your breakfast,” he says as if he doesn’t want to discuss this but I’m not ready to give up and I look at him and I’m not so proud that I won’t beg. Not in a situation like this.
“Please, I beg you to let me go.” My throat snares, shame burning in me when I whisper, “Please... Husband.”
His eyes flare, frosting with possession as if I only made it worse by calling him that. “You’re mine, doll face. Only mine. And the sooner you accept your fate, the better.”
Two
Husband
I’m hiding it well but truth is that I can barely breathe. My ribs strain over my lungs, my heart is pumping blood as if it’s pumping it for the first time. Not many things can break me. But she...she can. And she doesn’t even know the extent of control she has over me.
She thinks she’s been caught but I am caught too. What I need is for her to learn to love me. I already love her above anything else but my feelings need to be reciprocated. They will ruin me if she doesn’t rein them in, if she doesn’t control them.
I’d burn this whole world for her, if she asked me to. I would kill, maim, slaughter in her name. And kill in her name I will.
It takes all I have not to grab her, drag her to my bedroom and fuck her in that empty king-sized bed of mine like an animal. I want her nails to rip my sheets, want her to beg, to scream, to cry...I bet she’s sweet when she cries. No doubt, having sex with her would probably soothe the frenzy I feel for her but she’s probably not thinking about giving her body up to me.
Right now, it’s more like she’s trying to hide it from me and she’s trying to make herself smaller, like she’s not truly here. Thing is though...she is.
My eyes go to her and she seems so vulnerable where she’s sitting in her chair. She’s afraid that I’m some kind of a madman, afraid that I will hurt her but I can’t hurt her any more than I can rip my own heart out with my hands.
