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“I’m all yours.”
“Mine to fuck,” he groaned, thrusting into me in one hard push. He pulled my head back by my hair and growled into my ear, “Mine to torture.” I felt his teeth graze my shoulder blade. “Mine to break,” he whispered before biting my shoulder enough to break the skin. I winced, but didn’t protest. “And mine to mold back the way I want it.” His thrusts were in sync with his words.
This was like another kind of drug I was addicted to. I was looking forward to these moments, the moments he fucked me. I craved the high and the satisfaction sex gave me. With every thrust I felt we connected in the most primal way possible. With his every thrust he owned me more. And when the plant started to spread its roots to the ground it would find a way to grow… bigger and stronger.
Chapter
March 22, 2014–New Life: Day 20
I could finally find a chance to sneak into Mike’s study. He went to the city to buy some necessities. Trusting the bulletproof windows and high security doors he didn’t tie me this time. The house looked old and abandoned, but it was highly secured I didn’t even try my chance on running anymore. The scariest thing was I didn’t even want to run away anymore. Something in me changed and I wanted to stay here. Something inside me felt so connected to Mike. I didn’t lie when Mike asked me who I was belonged to. I felt belong with him.
I kept the door ajar so I could hear when Mike came home. Heading toward the table I placed the damp swab on the desk lamb so I could have an excuse being here. He was letting me clean his office so if he caught me in here I would just pretend like I was cleaning the dust.
I looked for the file in the cabinets, but it was nowhere to be found. There must be a hidden drawer or maybe a safe here. I sat on his chair and tried to think where that would be. The moment I was about to throw in the towel I decided to check the files on his desk. I knew Mike was so careful and he wouldn’t place a file like this to open, but I didn’t want to miss any place untouched. To my surprise I found the file under another similar looking one.
Why would Mike have left something like this here? Instead of somewhere safe?
Shaking my head I ignored the question and grabbed the file. The excitement was bubbling inside me.
Forensic Psychiatric Hospital
BC, Canada
Patient Name: Michael Harrison
Crimes: Rape, murder, violation…
Status: Violent tendencies, mental instability
Story 1: Michael Harrison, age 18. Physical and sexual violence on a teenager. Murder.
Story 2: Michael Harrison, age 18. Took hostage the woman who raised him. Physical and sexual violence. Used knife and fire. Murder.
Even reading the first page of the file made me quiver with horror. There were photos of his crime on the following pages. The darkened color of blood on white bodies was standing out like a sore thumb. The contrast between the stain of the last sign of life and the irreversible sign of dead skin intensified the eerie sight in front of me. I was shaking from head to toe, the hair on my neck stood on attention, but horror wasn’t the only thing that constricted my lungs, making it hard to breathe. There was only a sick excitement in the dull look on the women’s faces, a fucked-up thrill at seeing bruised skins.
“What the fuck are you doing here?!”
I gasped with Mike’s dark voice looming over the room. I watched him strike toward me like a predator he was. I couldn’t even open my mouth until he grabbed me by my arm, forcing me to stand. “Mike, I-”
“Answer me! What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” His voice was sharp but not loud; it was intense, scary, and bone shatteringly dangerous.
“I saw the file. I was curious,” I whispered.
“Don’t you know curiosity kills the cat?” he chuckles, moving his hand up on my arm till his fingers wrapped around my neck.
“Will you kill me now?” I whisper-sobbed.
He laughed, squeezing my neck enough to cause my breathe hitch. “No. Not yet…”
“You read the file. What is your opinion now?”
I opened and closed my mouth several times like a fish in the tank until I got enough courage to blurt out the words, “You’re a monster.”
He laughed again. His laughter was like a thunder, erupting deep inside of the night air before suddenly stopping to leave the night with its dangerous tension. I was afraid of the second his laughter would stop; I knew when it happened my verdict was on due.
He fisted my hair the moment his laughter faded and dragged me to his bedroom. I was afraid of making a sound. I let him tie me to his bed like a ragdoll. He tied my hands together like I was praying before securing them to the headboard. I didn’t protest as he put me in kneeling position and secured it with robes. Focusing on my breathing I tried to not make a sound, hoping he would let me live. I gasped when I heard the familiar sound of his belt and shuddered when his hand caressed my back.
I knew what was about to come and I wasn’t afraid, I was relieved that I could get through it. I was relieved to finally know what my verdict was – it wasn’t death, not yet anyway. Taking a deep breath I prepared myself to scream.
