Damien turns to face me again, walking closer to me and that feeling of his body heat closer to me is the closest thing I have to feeling better in the hell in which my mind is trapped in. "You went through my private papers in my study. You kept notes on how to escape. On the possible buyers." Damien throws this in my face and I flinch.

What can I say? My eyes are welling up with more tears, and I want to cower. Damien probably thinks that I'm afraid of him. What's really happening is so far from that. I've come to trust Damien. It's this fucking moment that everything in me fractures.

I could lose him. Really lose him. And that is how I know—I love him. I love Damien. I just want to please him. I would be sold by him if it meant he was pleased with me. I don't want to be without him, but I can't stand the cold, hard fact that I've truly betrayed him. He knows it. If he wanted me at all, I've killed that urge. Now I'm just the girl who tried to escape.

I would say who could blame me, but that's the thing. I blame me. I blame me for keeping the notes that I made about the tickets and everything I remember about the buyers. All the notes that I kept on him. I noted his schedule. I look like I'm trying kill him, with all these notes about his schedule. The truth is that I long since gave up on getting away beyond just not wanting to be sold. I want to stay with him and I no longer want to go about it this way. I kept making those notes because they feed my obsession with Damien. I have become obsessed with him, strange as that is. I can't tell him that. I can't tell him anything. The tears welling in my eyes sting and roll down in fat droplets streaking my cheeks.

"Damien I am so --" I try to get the words out but his hand closes over my mouth. 

His other arm grabs me. He carries me to his study, crashes everything off his desk and lays me flat on my back on my desk. Damien flings papers everywhere, rogue office supplies smack against his carpet, making a smattering of a Pollack in prosaic paperclips. I want to stop him. Move his hand from my face and demand that he allow me to speak. 

But I have no idea what I would say. I want to apologize and tell him the truth. I can't.

"Of course you wanted to escape," Damien whispers. His eyes pour their sadness into me. His anger is tinged with sadness and I know I have truly hurt him. I don't want to be able to do that. I don't want him to care about me. I want him to just sell me. I haven't shown him the kindness that he's shown me. I'm crazy for thinking this but there's something about Damien. I need him. I need him to want to keep me. But he always seems so hurt and I can't bear the idea that I'm what is making him hurt now. If I'm insane for wanting him, then he is the same kind of insane, and we need to stay together. But I've hurt him. If there was any chance that I could be his, I have killed it. Why hadn't I destroyed the evidence? Why did I keep peeking? Why did I keep a long list of everything he's done? My throat is raw already from the sobs wracking me. I realize I'm groaning against his hand, which he presses down harder.

Damien swallows. "Don't say a fucking word," he says is an eerily calm voice. His hand moves from my mouth. I don't move on the spot for a moment. For some stupid reason I think he is going to kiss me. But why? Why would he kiss me as I cry and lie on his desk where he put me? I lean up to kiss him and his arms capture my forearms and his mouth closes over my mine, his body crushing my own. The firm wall of his chest against me makes my heart beat impossibly fast. I need this. I kiss him like I can show him how I truly feel. How sorry I am. If I only show him with my lips on his, my tongue caressing his, I have a prayer of making him understand. I want to tell him I love him.

It is a foolish, girly thought, but I want to be able to tell him that I love him on a day he'll want to remember it. How can I think this when I know he wants to forget me? Maybe it'll be easy for him to forget me. I can't have that. I kiss him with every ounce of energy I have and I send my love, my passion, through my body. My arms are pinned or I would wrap my arms around him. My legs wrap around him without a thought. My hips are grinding against his, and I feel how hard he is. At least his cock still wants me. I'm wet instantly, the feel of his mouth on mine enough to arouse me, but knowing that cock wants me makes having a pussy worth it. I fucking crave him. I ache for him.

Just as quick as his mouth was on me, it's gone. He stalks away from me and storms from the room, locking me inside. I hear the click of the lock and try to follow after him but I can't.

"Damien!" I yelp out. I beat my fists against the door. I need to make this better. My tears fall again, they crash against my prison. I have to do whatever Damien wants.

I have to please him.

I have to be sure that this is the last time I ever disappoint him.

I don't know how or when, but when I have a chance, I have to make this better.

I know I'm poison to him. That's why he's always so conflicted. I know I need to let him go. But I'm too selfish to think I can do that. Can he sell me when all I want is to be his? I will cross that bridge when I get there, because right now I need to be able to make him see that I'm sorry. I'm going to be good. So good.

Maybe I can be good enough that he'll forgive me.

But I know that I'll never forgive myself for tearing him apart. 

I can't logically parse this situation. I shouldn't be upset. I know that somewhere in the sense of this, I should be frustrated that he is upset. But all I hear is my heart telling me that I've hurt him. I've flayed my inner sense of reason long ago because I'm part of Damien's world and I desperately want to remain. Yet, now, I think I'll be nothing but a cask. I didn't mean to hurt him. I wanted to be good. But I was foolish. It's foolish that I thought I could ever get away. And do what?

All I want is Damien. I have to find my way back to him. 

If he wants me. And I know he's conflicted; I know he was going to sell me. What I don't really know is if he ever wanted me at all. I breathe, trying to focus on inhaling and exhaling, dropping my body down to the floor. I'm lifeless and numb. I let him down and don't know if being good will mean that I'm worth selling, or if it can truly lead to forgiveness.

I wish I could hate Damien. Damien, the man who shouldn't seem different than my father. My father would sell me. Damien would sell me.

But right now I want to cash in on what's left of my soul to save Damien's. I fear that no one will ever see the man behind the sadness, the anger. He's lonely. I couldn’t see any of this about him until it was too late and I had already thrown it away. But maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance to save at least Damien. I’ll get far away from him and maybe that'll be my final chance to not disappoint him.

My stomach is in knots. I don’t know what the hell I'm supposed to do. I wouldn’t know how to figure it out if I even thought I could.