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I stand, unsure what to think. This should be a relief, but somehow it feels… I don’t even know. I go into the bathroom and close the door behind me. I get into the hot shower and let the water run down over my head for ten minutes as I think. My heart is hammering and I don’t know why. I try to think rationally, but I just can’t. She saved me from having to do it? This is a good thing. If he’s fucking them, he’s not fucking me. That’s all that matters. How regularly does he fuck them… her?
The door opens and he comes in, fussing around before he grabs his deodorant. His eyes drop down my body and I glare at him and raise a brow.
“Go away.”
His eyes drop down my body.
“Get out,” I snap.
With a smirk, he walks back out into the bedroom.
I finish my shower and walk back into the bedroom, just as I see him lifting a chair back to the desk. Huh? He had the chair in front of the wardrobe. What was he looking for in the wardrobe? I pretend I don’t notice and go to get something to wear from his drawers, but he picks up a bag and throws it at me. “I got you some clothes.”
I really want to say, why, so you can imagine I’m a fucking prostitute? I hold my tongue. I don’t give a fuck about him. I want to go home. I snatch the bag up, annoyed at my stupid feelings, and go back into the bathroom and pull out the clothes he has given me. I go through the bag and pull out the skimpy clothing. Screw this. He’s kidding. I stick my head around the door jamb. “I hate these clothes. They scream that I would fuck anything.”
A trace of a smile crosses his face. “Would you?”
I frown. “Would I what?”
“Fuck anything.”
I narrow my eyes. “No, I would not.” I go back to dressing in the bathroom.
I pull on a short, floral, peach-coloured dress.
I eventually walk back into the room and I find him dressed for work. “I got to go.”
I nod once.
“See you tonight.”
“Whatever,” I reply, monotone. “I don’t think I’m coming to dinner tonight.”
“Suit yourself.” With that he leaves the room, but today he doesn’t lock the door.
I Frown. What? I stand and open the door and it is open. He turns to face me.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
I shrug. “You didn’t lock the door?”
“No.” He turns back to me. “I have staked my claim. You should be okay now.”
“Oh.” I frown in confusion. “Staked your claim?” I ask.
“I will kill anyone who touches you and they know that.”
“But if they have already killed me, what is the point?”
“They won’t.”
I frown. “Are you sure?”
He nods once with a shrug.
I turn and go back into the room and close the door. I drop to the bed and think on that for a moment. Does that mean the word is out that I am off limits? Will I be safe to walk around now? He seems to think I will, but then maybe he just doesn’t care if they get me. Hmm, interesting. My eyes look up to the wardrobe. What was he doing up there? I open the double doors and peer up. It’s high… whatever he was looking at is high. I lock the front door and pull the chair over to the cupboard and stand on it to peer in. Sweaters and folded clothes are in neat rows. Wow, pretty neat for a guy. I carefully take out the sweaters and clothes. No, nothing here. He must have been looking for a sweater. I get down and frown. He didn’t wear any warm clothes and his work clothes aren’t kept in this cupboard. I get back up onto the chair and feel around again. What was he damn well doing up here? I bang on the back wall and it makes a weird sound. I frown. Huh? I knock and it echoes. My eyes widen.
Shit, this is a fake wall. With renewed purpose, I start to feel around in desperation. Maybe he has a weapon up here and I can use it to make them call for help. I feel around the sides and it also makes a weird noise. I am perspiring as I stretch to reach up. I push up on the ceiling and somehow it lifts up. Oh shit. I slide it to the side a little and put my hand up and feel around in the timber panelling.
