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I quickly stood on my chair, rage boiling inside me,“No. Never. He would never do that.”
“Okay. I’m sorry, Angel. I’m just trying to understand. That’s all. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Do not talk bad about him! He might have made some mistakes, but he always took care of me,” my voice trailed off toward the end.
“Okay, Angel. I got it,” she said and changed the topic with a forced smile on her face. “You said you didn’t regret any of it. Why?”
I tried to laugh, but it sounded like someone strangled me. CC would never understand this… but I still gave her the truth:
“Because if I hadn’t done what I’d done, I might have never known Mike.”
March 12, 2014–New life: Day 10
After Mike had gotten me out of that room, I never returned to that hell. Mike treated me like a precious thing. He fed me, took care of me, kissed me, touched me, and fucked me. He was always gentle with me except during sex. During sex he was a different man, not bad, but someone rough… like someone pushed a button on him, switched him with a man who had an animal inside. And I loved that side of him. My feelings for him grew each second. He was my everything; I couldn’t think or care anyone –or anything– else but him.
My body was still trying to recover from the withdrawal of the numbness. A fog in my mind was still a threat to my consciousness, but I wasn’t sure if I really wanted that fog to go away. I didn’t know what was under it… and that scared me. When I found happiness after days in hell, I was afraid to dig in what my gut feelings were trying to tell me, what the muffled screams under that fog was trying to remind me of.
The alarm of the oven brought me back to the kitchen where I was staring blankly, without seeing, at the canvas on the wall. A shiver ran through me as I gave attention to it for the first time. With vegetables and fruits, that canvas would be a good kitchen art if there wasn’t blood running through each vegetable with the touch of a knife. I rubbed my wrist as I still looked at that “art” on the wall; a mild pain that radiated from my wrist to my body distracted me and reminded me of the painful cut from the cable ties from last night.
Mike secured the plastic around my wrists tighter than it should have been and it broke my skin as I tried to yank my hands off of it during Mike’s punishing rhythm. I shook my head, focusing on preparing dinner instead of the slight fear of yesterday.
I wasn’t scared of Mike. Mike would never hurt me… badly. I was just scared of disappointing him and going back to that room of madness. Remembering that room gave me shivers, made my heart rate increase with horror.
I prepared his plate quickly, trying to think nothing and almost ran toward his office. He could ease the horror inside me. He was helping me to not think anything else but him. He was like my isolated room, silencing the voices in my head and making everything easier for me.
“Mike,” I called for him when I failed to open his office door with a plate and his drink in my hands.
He opened the door and waited there, his eyes roaming around my body with hunger in his gaze as I wore only his t-shirt like he asked me to do.
Demand you to do, a voice whispered in my mind, but I silenced it with a smile on my face. I liked the way he looked at me with want in his eyes, I wanted him to be happy with me. I wanted him to take care of me like he did when he rescued me from that room.
He grabbed my chin and took my mouth in a rough kiss that left me breathless; I had hard time to not drop dinner. “I have some work to do. Put those on the coffee table and sit on the floor,” he told me, sitting back behind his desk.
I did as I was told, without any question or comment and studied my surrounding. This was the first time he allowed me to come here. The room was simple yet beautiful. All the furniture were gray oak except his chair and the sofa in the room –they were black, but the room wasn’t dark as I assumed it would be. Maybe the toys in the corner of the room were the reason why the room looked almost homey. I frowned at the toys… lots of brand new cars, trucks, game cards were sitting on the floor. On the shelf behind them, there was more, but those looked worn out, shapeless… I wasn’t even sure what some of them were.
I looked back at Mike. He looked so powerful, grown up and dangerous with the scar on his face –scar that I gave him, but couldn’t remember why– I wonder why a man like this would make a collection of these toys. The curiosity was so intense I couldn’t stay silent.
“Can I look at them?”
Mike turned his gaze to me from the computer. I could feel his anger because I talked without his permission, but I didn’t back down.
“Can I look at them, please?” I asked again, pointing the toys in the corner.
“They are mine,” he growled.
“I… I’m just gonna look. I promise,” I said slowly, trying not to frown. With a curt nod, he gave me permission, but I felt his gaze on my back as I studied the cars. I reached for one of them when something got my attention.
“Be careful,” Mike said sharply behind me and I only nodded, drawing circles around raw surface of the toy. One word was scratched on every toy: Mine…
I’m an obsessive man…
I heard a whisper at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t put my finger on it… from where I remembered that or what that meant.
All I could think of was the word written on the toys: Mine…
March 12, 2014–MIKE
I watched her closely as she touched my things with a cute frown on her angelic face. She was touching MY things. I was about to make her mine, too, just like the things she touched.
