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ROSE
When he leaves the room, I take a few minutes to collect my thoughts. I haven’t thought of my mother or… or the other for a very long time. The pain I’m in has my defenses down, and that’s unacceptable. I close my eyes and imagine the wall I built around all the things I can’t deal with. Try as I might the wall won’t go back up. The emotional hurts keep spilling out, amplifying my pain. I realize I’m crying. Whether my tears are from my emotional pain or physical, I don’t know. Both are crippling.
Please, God, just let me forget again, I pray. Please. I visualize the crumbled wall in my mind and carefully start to pick up the bricks and stack them back together. It’s no longer the strong, tall wall it once was. Now the bricks are haphazardly stacked and held together with metaphorical bubble gum and duct tape, but it will have to do. Just as I stick the final brick into place and the memory of my mother’s face disappears behind it, the door to my room opens.
There’s no knock or warning of anyone approaching except the click-clack of high-heeled shoes on the tile floor. “So I hear you are finally back with us,” a reedy voice quips as she comes into my line of sight. “Some mess you got yourself into. A fine mess, indeed. Master Bennett tells me that you’re in a great deal of pain and understandably so,” she tsks. “I can give you some pain medication which you should use because frankly, you have a long road of recovery, and without it, you won’t be getting rid of that catheter anytime soon.”
Well, that’s news to me I didn’t even know I had a catheter in. The lady, who I’m assuming is the doctor, doesn’t pause for my response, so I just blink stupidly as she carries on a one-sided conversation.
“Do you have any allergies I should be aware of? Do you have a primary care physician? Who is it that will be assisting in your recovery? I can get you my card, and I can handle your care if need be, it would be charged to your account here at the club and added to your fees.”
My head spins at all her questions. I hardly know which one to answer first, again I only manage to blink up at her. “Well?” she asks, seeming a bit put out by my silence. She turns a pointed look to the person standing just behind her. “Has she spoken at all? Did you find her membership records yet?”
I notice for the first time that the man, who I’m beginning to think of as my hero, is standing just behind the doctor. I was so overwhelmed by the doctor and her rapid-fire questions I hadn’t even noticed him. I give him a pleading look, and he steps forward, grabbing my hand, then runs his thumb over my knuckles soothing me. My tense muscles relax, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“No doc, we don’t have her membership records. From my understanding, she was brought as a guest, and Adrianne didn’t verify her information. No one else in the club recognized her to give us a name. Damon, of course, is no help,” my whole body stiffens at the sound of Damon’s name, “and until about ten minutes ago, she’s been unconscious. So no, I don’t know who she is… yet.”
His tone is quite harsh with the doctor, and I notice she averts her gaze from his and looks submissively towards the floor. “I’m sorry, sir, I meant no disrespect. I forgot my place.”
He nods to her, then turns his burning blue gaze back to me. “Miss, can you answer the doctor’s questions?”
I shift my head in just a tiny nod and open my mouth to speak, again only a hoarse whisper comes out.
“Drink?” I manage to choke out. My throat feels like sandpaper again. I feel a straw tap against my bottom lip, and I instinctively wrap my lips around it and take a deep pull. The cool water floods my mouth, and I choke slightly as I swallow, but I don’t pull away from the straw. I look up expecting the doctor to be holding the cup, but it’s him—my hero—and he’s staring at me with a look I don’t recognize. I suck on the straw until the cup runs dry. I drink so long and hard that I have to catch my breath before I can speak.
I manage a half-smile for my hero. “Thank you.” He returns my smile with the sexiest devil-may-care grin I’ve ever seen. It lights his whole face up and makes him impossibly more attractive. Wow. “I feel much better.”
“Great!” The doctor interjects, breaking whatever that brief moment was. “So allergies?”
I look back to the doctor and take her in, she’s an attractive Latino woman, probably in her mid to late thirties. Her eyes are a warm chocolate, and her hair is pulled into a tight knot on the back of her head. She’s dressed in a sharp dress suit, and she gets several inches of her height from her shoes.
“No, I haven’t got any allergies that I am aware of, I’ve had pain medications in the past with no trouble.” I answer the easiest of her many questions first. She nods and pulls out a needle. My heart skips a beat or ten, and I start to hyperventilate. Once again, my hero comes to my rescue kneeling down in front of me, he meets my gaze and continues his rhythmic caress of my knuckles.
“Shhh, it’s okay, love, she doesn’t have to poke you with that, she is only going to put it in the IV line. Just breathe. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, you’re safe with me.” His tone is smooth and gentle. He’s so confident that what he says is true that I allow myself to be soothed by him once again. He flashes me another smile. “There’s a good girl.”
Seconds later, I feel the heat of the pain medication in my veins. My body slowly numbs, and the tension I didn’t realize I was holding onto seeps out of my muscles. Taking a few minutes to fully enjoy the numbness, I stare into the face of the man in front of me. He’s still kneeling, watching me closely for distress. I can’t help but wonder why he is so invested in me. I don’t even know his name. The doctor called him Master Bennett, but we haven’t been introduced.
He must be a dominant like Damon, no, not like Damon. I can’t picture this man being so cruel. I can’t imagine calling such a kind man ‘Master.’ He’s nothing like Damon. Even knowing virtually nothing about this man, I have no doubt that he’s the opposite of my old Master. I bet Damon is furious. I giggle at the thought of a red-faced Damon stomping around his big mansion, pouting like a child whose favorite toy was taken away. The pain medicine must be really good because I don’t ever giggle.
Now that I am feeling more relaxed, I ask, “Where is mas—I mean Damon?”
In an instant, the gentle look leaves my hero’s face, and in its place is a mask of rage. I flinch back from him, worried that I’m the one he’s angry with. I open my mouth to apologize but think better of speaking when he’s like this and close it again. One thing I’ve learned over the years is silence is best in these situations. Seconds tick by, and he takes a deep breath, the rage pushed aside. “I assume he’s at home or work.”
“Oh… Does he know where I am?”
“He knows I’ve taken charge of you,” he replies shortly.
I chew on my lip as I think things over. “When do I go back?” I don’t want to ask, but I would rather have time to prepare myself for the inevitable. I signed a contract. I owe Damon six months of my life, and there is no escape clause unless I can pay him back in full plus interest.
My hero stands and paces away from me, I swear I hear him growl before he leaves my side. If his reaction weren’t so scary, I would think it’s hot. “That, I suppose, is up to you. Do you want to go back?” he asks, a look of hurt flashing over his beautiful features before he schools them again.
“Oh,” I chew harder on my lip while I think of how to answer him. “I would rather never go back, but he owns me for the next six months. I don’t really have a choice.”
Buck up, don’t you dare cry, I scold myself as my eyes burn with unshed tears. You did what you had to do when you signed that damn contract. It’s only six months. I sigh deeply as I try to reason with myself.
He paces back up to my bedside and drops down to his position in front of me again, “You have a choice. Those contracts aren’t legally enforceable. They’re just for a dominant and submissive to set ground rules and expectations.” He says it with such confidence that I want to believe him, but I know he’s wrong. My contract is unique.
I squeeze my eyes closed tight, trying to force the dreaded tears back. My breath shudders out as I try to suppress my sobs. “My contract is different,” I whisper. “He—” I stumble over my words, not wanting to reveal the reason behind my contract, “hired me as an employee with a six-month contract. The only way out is something I’m unable to do. Only Damon can release me early, and I can’t see him doing that.”
