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I hear the birds and feel the cold breeze against my skin. When I open my eyes, the room I am in is bright and airy, two things the basement was not. Is this heaven? Is that where I have gone? The brightness hurts my eyes, making me squint. It has been years since I have seen any kind of daylight. It has been years since I have smelt or my skin has felt fresh air. My heart starts to race as I look down at my body and find a black blanket covering me. I slowly begin to look around the room; it is enormous. The furniture is black, and the walls are a deep red color.
I slowly turn, looking around the room and stopping when I see a window. It is slightly open, leading out to what looks to be a balcony. I can see the rain coming down and the cloud-filled sky. I also see the birds flying by, the trees, the green trees. There is so much color and so many different smells.
The only color I am used to seeing is black; the only smell I am used to is blood, filth, and bodily fluids, which will forever be burned into my mind. I turn back and look at the ceiling; this is a different ceiling and a different room. My body was so fucking tired that my dreams must have taken over. I dreamt that Christian carried me out of the basement. A man I don’t know but wanted to.
My heart races as I keep my eyes on the ceiling, running through everything that happened: Christian, the basement, Sebastian. Not a dream, it was real, was it real? It has to be real.
I hear the door open and shut, and I close my eyes as my breathing becomes rapid when footsteps come toward me. The footsteps are different, and it is not Sebastian, the dirty man, the sleep man, or the hair man; it must be a new man—a new man to take yet another piece of me. Wait, there are no more pieces, no more pieces, no more pieces.
The bed dips, and I feel a warm body I have never felt before. I remember what every man has felt like as they raped me, claimed me, but this man is new, new man, new man. A hand gently touches my face, but I can’t remember when I was last touched like this. I open my eyes and look down, and lock eyes with his.
My heart stops. I know him. I know that I know him.
3 1/2 Years Ago
He lifts his free hand and places it on top of mine
My body stiffens with his touch, but I don’t want to pull away. I like how his skin feels against mine. “I can buy you a new shirt, sir,” I state softly. I watch him lift his other hand, and he gently brushes the back of his hand down my cheek, making my heart race. I watch him closely as he laughs. “Christian,” he states calmly. He lowers his hand from my face, but he keeps his other hand on top of mine. I like the sound of his voice and the sound of his name.
“What?” I ask in a nervous, innocent voice. He is very good-looking and dangerous, I am assuming, by his tattooed-covered hands.
“My name is Christian,” he states, looking into my eyes. His eyes are a deep green, like the rainforest.
“Nicole,” I state, allowing a smile to form across my lips
He lowers his hands from mine, and we both lower our hands to our sides, oddly making me feel empty and cold. His skin is like a flame against mine
I slowly step aside, giving him the room he needs to continue leaving, but he doesn’t move, nor do I. I don’t think I want to move any farther away from him.
“It is nice to meet you, Nicolette,” he states in a different language, a very sexy language.
I continue to search his eyes and slowly nod. I can tell he is a haunted man, but I also see he is a good man. I just don’t think he thinks he is, which is interesting. “You too,” I state softly.
I watch him allow a smile to form across his gorgeous lips before he leans in and gently kisses my cheek. I want to lean into his touch, but I don’t. I stand still, and just as fast as he leans in, he pulls back and walks around me.
I watch him as he walks to his car. He opens the door and slides inside. I watch him put his coffee down and sit back in the seat. I just want him to look at me one more time. He turns and looks out of the window. I am standing still at the door, but I am now holding the door open as I keep my eyes on him for a moment. I feel my heart race as I force myself to turn around and walk inside the coffee shop.
I have yet to learn who he is, but I want to know him.
Christian, the man I ran into at the coffee shop.
He is real, this is real, or maybe I died. Did Sebastian finally kill me?
This has to be heaven, or is this all in my head?
Maybe this is in my head; maybe my mind is trying to protect me from whatever the men are doing to me right now.
“Nicoletta?”
I don’t know Italian, but I know that word. He is saying my name. Why?
Why is he here?
Why am I here?
“You’re okay,” he says softly.
I don’t respond, I can’t respond, this is too much, this is not fucking real.
