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Emily
The warm sun shines on my face. I pull the blankets up over my head to block out the light. Mmm, these blankets are soft, silky soft. Stretching out my limbs, I do a quick assessment of my body, cataloguing the various aches and pains.
The bruises on my face have become a dull ache. My ribs, a slight, sharp pain. It didn’t help that Josh threw my body over his shoulder yesterday. Fuck, Josh!
I bolt upright at the memory. Looking around the luxurious room, I know it wasn’t a dream. I really am in Josh’s room right now. No, not just in his room… I’m in his bed.
Holding the blanket tight to my chest, I’m half expecting him to jump out of the shadows somewhere. He’s not here though. I’ve always been able to somehow feel him whenever he’s been close.
The room smells like him; he was here recently. Judging by the messed-up sheets on the other side of the bed, I’m guessing he slept there. He slept right next to me—probably explains why I don’t remember waking up from the usual nightmares.
I need to get out of here before he comes back, before he can stop me from leaving. The asshole locked me in here after he left me in his shower. I walked out, saw the sweatpants and shirt he placed on the bed for me, and quickly changed. It only took ten minutes of trying the door handle for me to give up on it and climb into the bed. I told myself I would just lie down for five minutes, regroup and come up with a new plan.
That’s exactly what I needed now, a new plan. A plan to escape this room. A plan to fix the shitstorm that is now my life. Reluctantly, I get out of what has to be the softest bed I’ve ever slept in.
I can take in more of the room with the sunlight shining through the large bay windows.
The dark timber, four-poster bed sits in the middle. It’s masculine (and it’s very Josh), covered with dark navy bedding and black satin sheets. There’s a large chest of drawers with a few little knickknacks sitting on top of it. Other than that, the room is empty. There’s so much blank space it’s a little eerie. Why doesn’t he have more furniture in here?
There are two doors; one I know leads to the bathroom. I head for that door and freshen up as quickly as I can. I run my hands through my hair, rub some toothpaste on my finger and pathetically try to brush my teeth.
It will have to do. I don’t plan on seeing anyone anyway. I plan on sneaking out without being noticed. The only problem is I know how big this house is. I came to a house party here once. Josh’s older brother, Dean, threw one when he was a senior at school. My friend Bella and I snuck in.
I had hoped to run into Josh, only he was nowhere to be found. That was basically my last years of high school—me, trying to get glimpses of Josh, while also hoping he would notice me. That he would see me.
I finally got that wish granted on graduation day. He noticed me. He cherished me, only to then abandon me and tell me to leave town. The memory both saddens and angers me. How dare he give me one night of pure bliss, of happiness like I’ve never known, only to shatter my world the next morning.
With renewed determination and a little anger, I storm to the door and yank on the handle. I’m expecting it to be locked again, so when it actually opens, I fall back with the force of my pull. Huh, what game is this psycho playing? I remember just how much he tormented the other kids at school. He loved playing mind games with everyone.
The hallway is clear; no one is around. The house is so silent I could mistakenly think I’m the only one here. I make my way down the winding marble staircase as quietly as I can. Once I get to the bottom, there are three different hallways, all leading in different directions. It’s like a game of eeny meeny miny moe, and I have no idea which way to go.
One of these has to lead to an exit somewhere. Choosing the one to the left of the staircase, I follow the long walkway, tiptoeing past numerous closed doors. Why the hell are there so many doors in this place? How many rooms does one house need to have?
I get lost in my thoughts. By the time I realise it, I’m already in the kitchen with a pair of icy blue eyes staring back at me. My steps stop, my heart rate picks up, and an unfamiliar feeling rushes over me—a reaction to what I’ve walked in on.
Josh is sitting at the bench with the girl who was in the cabin. He has one arm around her, hugging her as she rests her head on his shoulder. My eyes flutter between Josh and the arm he has around another woman.
It’s irrational of me to have any feelings of jealousy, yet I recognise that these feelings are just that—the kind of irrational, stupid jealousy that I have no right to feel. I don’t even know Josh anymore. Then again, can I really say I ever knew him?
One night together does not count for anything. He clearly has not been hung up on me all these years. I can’t help the violent thoughts running through my head, or the fact that I want to go and rip his damn arm off.
I can’t remember a time I’ve ever been jealous before. Actually, that’s not true. I used to get crazy jealous whenever the girls at school would talk about how hot Josh was, or how much they wanted just one night with him. Thankfully, I don’t think any of them ever got that one night.
However, I did, and even though I hate him for how it ended, it was still one of the best times of my life. I can still feel the ghost of Josh’s hands all over my body. What I wouldn’t do to feel that again…
“You need a cool drink or something, Emmy?” Josh’s voice breaks me out of my trance.
My face heats with embarrassment at the realisation he could possibly know what I was thinking. The girl beside him sits up straighter and looks in my direction. She only just noticed I was in the room.
“No thank you. And it’s Emily, not Emmy.” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to cover up the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. I can feel my hardened nipples rubbing against the fabric of his shirt.
My feet are frozen to the spot, my body betraying me. Josh stands up and walks around the bench. My mind is telling me to run, run in the other direction and never look back. But my feet don’t move. They don’t move when Josh approaches me as he undoes the buttons on his flannel shirt and takes it off.
They don’t move as he wraps that shirt around my shoulders, unfolding my arms to guide each one through the long sleeves. My feet still stay rooted to the spot when Josh leans in and whispers in my ear.
“I know what you’re thinking, Emmy. I also know your nipples are not rock-hard right now because you’re cold. Unless you want me to throw you down on that bench and wrap my mouth around those delicious fucking nipples of yours right now, keep this shirt on.” He straightens and takes my hand in his, leading me to the bench before sitting me on a stool.
“Emmy, this is Ella, my sister.” He puts extra emphasis on the word sister.
