Sara

It took me three days to feel like myself again. Alek had insisted I stay with him until I was a hundred percent, and for once, I actually listened to him.

Thankfully, Matt had been able to step in and run the shop in my absence. It was the only thing Alek didn’t truly appreciate, the fact I was relying on another man to help me out. It grated on his nerves, even though he did his best to hide it from me.

But I saw it.

His jaw would tighten whenever he heard me on the phone with my good friend. But he never said anything. Only reacted. Minutely. He was coming around slowly to the idea of Matt.  He would never admit it, but I saw his concern slowly diminish the more time passed. 

My last night held willingly captive, we watched movies and ate take-out. I was pretty much back to normal; the only symptom I’d ever been sick was a touch of weakness. Not being able to eat normally for a few days took its toll on me. It was the first time I’d been able to eat solid food in days, the chicken and broccoli the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted.

I’d been feeling so well, I’d tried to convince Alek to let me have my way with him. He didn’t budge, though he promised me an all-inclusive tour of Deveraville when I was completely back to normal.

Even though I was disappointed, it gave me something to look forward to. Something to fantasize about and something to build toward.

After we’d watched yet another movie, I’d fallen asleep on his chest, his warmth too inviting not to.

~~~~

A few hours after I’d drifted off, I awoke with a start. One of my nightmares decided to pay me a visit, making sure to scare the living hell out of me, as usual.

The serenity was nice while it lasted, I guess.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart rammed so quickly I felt its pulse through my entire body. I did my best to push away the feeling of terror which had gripped me not minutes earlier. Once I deemed back in control, I turned my head to the side and saw Alek looking at me.

Luckily, he hadn’t noticed the light sheen of sweat covering my body, or the terrified look in my eye when I’d first woken.

Turning fully toward him, I focused on his eyes. Or at least, I tried to. He moved away, a look playing on his face as if he wanted to tell me something. As I prepared to ask him about it, he spoke, tearing me from whatever thoughts had plagued me in that moment.

 “Are you hungry?” he asked as he reached down and entwined his fingers with mine. Leaning closer, he nuzzled the side of my neck before lavishing my skin with his tongue. “I know I am.”

His breath tickled me. I laughed and tried to move away, but his hold on me was persistent. “And what are you hungry for, Alek?” I asked while still squirming, hoping he’d changed his mind about giving me what I’d wanted earlier.

“You, of course.” Before I could say another word, he was on top of me, pushing himself between my legs. My heart beat wildly inside my chest, but it wasn’t from fear or anxiety. It was from excitement, my need for him too great to contain any longer.

To show him how much I wanted him, I captured his mouth, teasing his lower lip with my tongue until he opened up, which didn’t take long at all. I loved the taste of him, his warm breath mixing with mine. The way he made me feel was addictive.

With every kiss and caress he gave me, I felt myself falling for him more and more.

Mind, heart and soul.

“Please,” I moaned, gripping his ass with my plea. But what did he do instead of giving me what I wanted? He broke our kiss and climbed off me, walking toward his dresser. Pulling out a pair of pajama bottoms, he threw them on before he approached me again.

“You have no idea how much I would love to fuck you again, baby, but I know enough to realize you’re probably still a bit weak. And what I have planned requires a lot of strength and endurance.” He reached under the covers and gently ran his finger over my need for him.

I gasped.

He withdrew his hand before I could fully enjoy it. Drawing it up to his mouth, he parted his lips and dipped his finger inside. “Sweet,” he teased, winking and walking toward the door. “Since I can’t eat what I want right now, I’ll settle for a veggie omelet. You want one?” He was halfway through the door before I realized what he’d asked me.

“Yes, please!” I hollered as he disappeared down the hallway.

Damn him.

I glanced over at the clock and noticed it was really late. I didn’t normally make it a habit of eating at that time, but I had to admit I was a bit famished, my body on the brink of a full recovery.

I didn’t feel like putting my own clothes back on so I made my way into his very large closet, deciding to throw on one of his dress shirts. Reaching forward, I grabbed one off the hanger. Well, I tried to anyway. One side of the shirt was stuck and the more I pulled on it, the more it seemed to want to stay exactly where it was. I reached in further to untangle it, harshly yanking it toward me. Not only did the piece of clothing wedge free, but I’d dislodged something else, as well. I jumped back as something fell to the floor and hit my foot.

Damn it. He’s going to think I was snooping. I was curious, of course, but it wasn’t right to go through his private things. Bending down, I reached for the fallen object and realized it was a folder, the contents scattered all over the closet floor. They appeared to be photographs, but I couldn’t be sure because they were all face-down. Picking everything up as quickly as possible, I noticed something familiar written on the lip of the folder.

It was my name.

Odd.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to push away the sudden uneasy feeling coursing through me. Part of my brain was telling me to throw everything back together without looking. But the other part was urging me to look and not ignore what was staring me in the face.

Of course, my curious side won out.

I quickly reached down and grabbed some of the photos. Still having some reservations, I sucked in a deep breath, counted to three, exhaled and flipped the pictures over so I could get a good look at them.

Trying my best to rationalize what I was looking at, I studied each and every one of them. But there was no explanation. A cloud of confusion engulfed me, threatening to tear the very breath from my body.

All of the items I held in my trembling hands were pictures of me. There must have been at least a hundred in total, all taken over the past eight years or so, long before I’d moved to Seattle.

There were some of me coming and going from the house I’d shared with my grandmother; pictures of me at my job at the bookstore I used to work for; pictures of me pumping gas, shopping and even hanging out with friends.

The list went on and on.

There was one picture which really caught my attention. It was of me leaving my therapist’s office, looking beat-down and emotionally drained. As my heart picked up speed, something dawned on me. All of these pictures were taken after the incident. To be sure, I looked through all of them again, but the conclusion was the same.

None of them were taken before my life had changed forever.

My mind drifted to a time when I was a very carefree and trusting person. I always looked for and believed in the good in people, often ignoring warning signs which should have been obvious to me. Even though I had endured tragedy early on in my life with the loss of my mother, I still lived a pretty sheltered upbringing. I believed everyone had a loving grandmother like I did. I believed everyone was honest, loving, kind and generous, simply because it was how I grew up. I was raised to be kind to others, to help them when they were in need, in any way I could. I lived in a bubble, sheltered from the harshness of the world around me. I used to be thankful I had that kind of naivety, but it ultimately shattered my protected way of life.

A cold chill ran up my spine. I couldn’t dwell on the past. I had to forget and move forward…always move forward or he would win. I wouldn’t let that happen.

I can’t let that happen.

I forced my mind to come crashing back to reality.

Why does he have these?

Did he take the pictures? Was he following me the whole time? Did he have someone else following me all those years? I wanted answers. No. I needed answers, but I couldn’t face him right then.

I had to get the hell out of there.