AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 1
Mia
My whole childhood all I heard from everyone in town was not to trust the Coopers. They were bad news; all of them, every last one of them was nothing but bad. I didn’t believe it at first. I was trusting like most kids were, thinking it was just talk. Then I had my first run-in with Garret Cooper, sixteen to my nine, the middle of the family, and I knew it was true. I hated it because even at nine, I was in love with his younger brother Evan, fourteen, and broody.
Amazingly, he saved me from that bad confrontation then spent the next nine years having my back when I ran across his family. I loved him even more for that but then he broke my heart when I was eighteen. The night he was supposed to meet me, leave town with me, he never showed. I waited hours in the cold, spitting rain for him and he never came. Instead, he got himself arrested doing something stupid for his family and was sent away for life. I caved and wrote him once, but he never responded, so I had to move on with my life.
The only problem is, how do you move on when you have no life without your heart?
College was a waste of four years spent miserable, always looking over my shoulder just waiting to see those brooding blue eyes on me, just waiting for the chance to protect me. It’s been five years since I lost my heart, my will to even live pathetic, and I still am waiting, for something that is never going to happen. I’m worse than pathetic, I’m useless.
Most days I don’t even care about getting out of bed, the only reason I do is because my parents have threatened to have me put into the hospital for clinical depression treatments if I miss one more day of work. They will call my work phone repeatedly until someone picks it up, which means I have to get up unless I want to be forced back home. I can’t go back; it will only increase the pain, the agony I feel not having any part of my heart with me.
I guess losing two jobs in the span of six months didn’t sit well with my clean-cut, god-fearing parents. The one I have now I can’t stand. The monotony of it is boring as all get out; entering data into a computer all day is nothing like what I wanted to do with my life. But honestly, I don’t care if I even have a life.
My walk to work takes me over a bridge each day and I will admit, more than once I’ve wondered what they would do if I stopped walking, climbed over that railing and jumped. So, I guess my parents have a reason to worry about me, thoughts like that are crazy, right?
Yeah, but honestly my parents’ suggestion of seeing a doctor and trying something to fix it, isn’t going to work. I know, because I did see a doctor and and went on antidepressants for a while during college, but they made me feel worse, made me really want to hurt myself, not just think about it, wonder about it, but actually do it. Put a razor to my wrists or down my entire bottle of sleeping pills, so I stopped taking them.
There isn’t a drug on earth that will fix a broken heart. They should be glad that I hated the way alcohol made me feel and didn’t become dependent on it or drugs—illegal drugs, to get me through the day. I can’t tell them what does get me through it though because that would get me locked up fast.
The need fills me quickly and I slip out of my bed knowing I won’t be able to get through the day without it.
Getting what I need, I head into my bathroom and lock the door. Inside the cabinet is a locked box and I unlocked it quickly as the need claws at my skin. My hands run over the items inside the box, debating, deciding which one to use today. Last night was the big blue one; I can still feel the ache between my legs from where I forced myself to ride it.
The shiny silver item draws my attention and I take it out, setting up everything making sure I have enough time to take it all the way. I know from the past that this one won’t take long and that’s why I purposely make sure I have the full length of time as normal.
I spread out the towel on the floor, the ice cube with the key just within reach and then bring out the cuffs, locking them around my wrists, starting the electro pad, the shocks and zaps requiring the gag in my mouth so no one next door hears. The shocks build me towards an orgasm fiercely fast. It’s always the same with this toy. The nipple attachments make it more intense, and I can feel the breath leaving my lungs. The lightheaded sensation pushes me straight back five years into Evan’s arms, the pressure of his hand around my neck, squeezing it as his cock filled me, breaking me in the best ways.
Four times it sent me there, letting me get a glimpse of his eyes as he smiled darkly, owning me. The ice finally melts letting me unlock my hands, and I literally twitched as I grabbed the remote to turn it off, the fifth orgasm toppling me as my movement shifted the dildo and I laid on the bathroom floor for what felt like an eternity.
It couldn’t have been overly long though because my alarm went off telling me it was time to get to work. I let out a sigh, grabbing the keys from the counter on my way out, everything neatly packed up out of sight. No one coming into the apartment would know what I do to get myself through the days.
The ice cube tray is empty, and I put a key in each spot, filling it with water and slipping it into the freezer for tonight. I have several different ways to keep the keys from me until time, the ice cubes the easiest method. There’s also the rope on the ceiling hung up by something that will lose its stickiness after a time and then fall. Or the tying it to a string and waiting until the candle burns it to let the key drop. Or the one where a knife is slipped into the end of the gag, and I have to cut the rope by riding the toy. That’s what I did last night and the burn in the thighs is worth it, the exertion the only way to get to that point, as crazy as it is.
The water flowing under the bridge looks frigid today and I wrap my coat tighter around me, forcing myself across it while my body still has the occasional twinge from the electro shocks. The memory of those eyes holds me until I get to the office, and I slip down to my cubicle, putting on my headphones to shut out the rest of the noise as I get to work waiting for the phone call that will come at some point today.
They’re random, never consistent, once or twice they’ve even called early and late on the same day just to make sure I didn’t ditch after the call. It’s not until the lights overheard turn off that I pull myself away from the piles of data I’ve entered, realizing the call never came.
Maybe they’re done with it?
No, not my parents, they’d still hound me even if I married and had ten kids. The time shows it’s after eight at night, meaning I’ve put in three hours of extra work beyond working through my lunch hour. I let out a full sigh moving out of the space and have to stifle a scream when I run into someone.
“Mia, what are you still doing here?” Derek asks his hand keeping me from falling flat on my face as my heels slip on the mopped floor.
“I lost track of time, didn’t realize it’d gotten so late while I was working away,” I answer honestly not about to add that my parents didn’t call to break up the day’s monotony.
“I’d say, I can’t imagine what in data entry would be that awe inspiring to get such dedication. Take tomorrow off, I’ll square it away with the boss down there. You never take off, not once in eight months,” he said and I just nod knowing I won’t because then someone else will have to answer my parents when they call.
If they call, I remind myself as I drag on my coat, walking quickly through the dark city to get home. I dial Mom’s cell phone as I move letting it ring until the voicemail picked up, “Hey Mom it’s me. You and Dad didn’t call today so just checking in, call me, bye.”
I try Dad next and his rings straight to voicemail as well as does the house phone and I hurry my steps getting closer to my apartment certain there is something strange going on here. My parents do not forget to call me, not ever. I know it’s likely nothing, but I dial the number for the cops back home, waiting for an answer there.
“Brentwood Police Department, how can I help you?” a male voice asked, and I breathe a bit easier.
“Seth?” I ask wanting to make sure it’s him.
“Mia, how are you honey? What’s wrong?”
