Bijou

––––––––

I watched him as we drove. He didn't look at me, his face was set out the windshield, jaw clenched. I wanted to know what he was thinking.

What is he going to do with me?

As much as I saw him as my savior, a huge part of my conscience mind was trying to figure out what he planned to do with me. It had been embedded into the darkest reaches of my brain, I was nothing more than a piece of property.

Is he my new owner?

Damn it! My brain is fucked.

Too much time had been spent controlled my another human being, my life hadn't been my own for over two years. Now I was here, with another man, a man who had come in and rescued me—but that didn't mean he was a good man, that didn't mean I had actually been saved.

I knew nothing about him. And in a flash, I was back in that house all over again. Trapped in the hands of another, nowhere to go, no place to hide. Instinctively, I curled my legs into my chest and nervously played with the belt crossing my lap.

There was this sense of loss consuming me as my insides rumbled with nerves and my stomach twisted and coiled into knots.

He said he wasn't going to hurt me. . .

But that could mean anything.

Diablo had said a lot of things, none of them were true. He had made me promises that I could call home, he had promised me full meals and going outside to feel the sun on my face.

None of that ever happened.

Watching the man cautiously, a small flicker of warmth ignited in my belly. He was a handsome man, not someone I would picture as being malicious. His eyes weren't dull, his expressions looked real and sincere.

Jet black hair covered his head, tousled in the front like he had just woken up. His skin was smooth, his jaw hard and cut with sharp lines.

My heart beat a little faster as he shifted in his seat and the thick muscle of his neck tensed, glistening with sweat in the light as the moon slipped around to his side of the vehicle.

The thin panties I had on grew hot and wet as I stared up at the unknown creature beside me. I wanted to believe he was good, that he was sent to me by some act of kindness I hadn't known existed.

I knew he could feel me watching him. A nervous energy floated around him as his back stiffened and his arms locked straight. Running his hand through his hair, his fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles bleaching white.

He was twisting both hands back and forth, and I could see the veins under the skin as they pulsed. His eyes twitched to look down on me, but he never did, he just stared out the window.

Suddenly, he jerked his arm in my direction, and I reacted without even thinking about it. Jumping back, I buried my head into my knees and cowered. I waited, I tensed up expecting to feel his fist against my body. It never came.

Picking up my head, I peeked up. The man looked down on me, lips pursed up tight.

Eyeing me from the corner of his gaze, he pushed on the radio and raised the volume so it was barely above a whisper. My breathing became heavy and thick as my body untied itself and tried to relax once I realized his hand wasn't lashing out to hit me.

Muscle memory was a bitch. How many more times would my body react defensively when it didn't need to?

I was a stranger to the outside world, to the normalcy of movements, to the natural flow of another.

Parting my lips, I wanted to say so many things to him, but nothing came out. I didn't know where the hell to begin.

Thank you is a start. Thank you for saving my life, I owe you everything, that's a better way to go.

My throat felt dry and scratchy as my tongue attempted to formulate words. Swallowing hard, I opened my mouth again to speak, and still nothing came out.

What do you say to a man who came in and blew down the walls that had held you for so long?

How do you even find the right words of gratitude and appreciation for something like that?

I couldn't, they simply didn't exist.

This man had risked his life for me, he had taken a chance that most would only ever do if it was for someone they loved to death.

But he had done that, he risked himself for me.

Braiding my fingers together, I picked at the skin of my cuticles. It was a nervous habit that started years ago, long before all this shit happened.

It was probably the only thing I recognized from the past version of myself. The naive girl was gone, a brutally depleted woman left in her wake.

Staring out the window, I watched the trees blow in the wind and the stars twinkle in the sky. I tried to find the four points that created the Big Dipper, but I couldn't quite see them from where I was seated.

The moon was full and bright as it shone down on the treetops, sprinkling them in silver dust. Under its rays, the fallen dust glinted like windblown powder as it generously coated the pine needles.

It was beautiful.

Say thank you at least, you owe him that much.

Turning my head, I licked my lips and exhaled the words. “Thank you.”

Flicking his eyes in my direction, he stayed quiet, staring down on me with a million questions in his gaze. Rocking his jaw, he gave me a small nod and let his eyes drift back to the road.

That was it, a nod. He didn't ask me who I was or how I ended up in that closet. He didn't curse me out for slowing us down in the hallway when my legs crumpled in tainted memories.

He nodded.

I sat confused, wondering if that acknowledgment was a good or bad thing. With Diablo, a nod was always followed by a command. We didn't have casual conversation or bicker back and forth until we both came to an agreement.

Conditioned, that was the word to describe me. I was conditioned to Diablo, to his motions, his words, his demands. I was a product of repetition and callous need.

Now I had to learn the mannerisms of another. This man could mean absolutely nothing with his nod. Or it could mean something devious, something painful.

Twisting back to the window beside me, I laid my head against the glass, allowing my eyes to settle on everything and nothing at all. I didn't want to think anymore, I just wanted to live in this victory.

What he did after my thank you didn't matter, he had already done more than I could ever wish for.

I was free.

I felt like I was floating, riding the wings of some magical beast that swooped down and scooped me up just in the nick of time.

My shoulder shook and I opened my eyes. I sat in a daze for a second, confusion clouding my brain. My surroundings took me by surprise, and I instinctively jerked my shoulder away, trying to scramble back, only to hit the seat.

I opened my eyes expecting to see Diablo, anticipating his evil black stare and sadistic smile.

But I was met by the face of the stranger, his gaze warm but hard, delicate but fierce. “Come on,” he said, opening his door and stepping outside.

His voice skipped across my brain, crawling into my chest and setting my heart ablaze. A fire began to burn, his voice the spark that ignited it. I could feel myself falling, tumbling over his two simple words.

What the hell is going on with me?

I couldn't place these feelings, the warmth and tingles took me by surprise. Sitting in the car, I tried to focus my eyes. Everything was fuzzy and blurry, I couldn't see where we were or anything around me.

I must have fallen asleep while we were driving and didn't even realize it. I had no clue how long we had driven for or where we were.

Every inch of my body was tired, so I sat still for a minute, trying to catch my bearings. I'm not in that house, this man got me out. I'm free, I'm safe—

A heavy knock forced my attention to the window beside me. Turning in my seat, the man was waving his hand for me to come out.

Opening the door, I looked around. We were surrounded by trees, a thick spread that captured the darkness and hid the moon. Spotting a small trailer behind him, the soft bulb over the door was flickering, emitting barely enough light to cover the front steps.

My bare feet sunk into the cold sand, goosebumps jetting up over my skin as the night air slipped around my body like a blanket made of ice.

“Where are we?” I asked, wrapping my arms around my ribs, and hugging myself for warmth.

The man turned away from me, starting for the door. “Home,” he said, his voice husky and thick.

“You live here?” Standing outside the car, I rubbed my arms, looking at his house.

There was a protectiveness in my stance, eyes warily searching my surroundings for any other signs of life. But it was too dark, I couldn't see anything except the small home.

It didn't look like anyone actually inhabited the place, and I couldn't help the anxiety that took me hostage as I stood in the cold.

The grass hadn't been mowed in ages, standing calf-high against my legs and tickling my skin like the tiny feet of marching ants. Thick green mold spotted the lower half of the tan siding, growing up towards the windows. The screen in the door was torn in one corner, falling open into the outside world.

“For now.” His long legs brought him up the steps as he fiddled with the keys. “You coming or do you want to stay out here?”

I was hesitant, unsure of what would happen if I went inside and he closed the door behind us. Taking a small step closer, I hugged myself tighter and darted my eyes around in the darkness.

There's nowhere to go.

Metal jingled in his hands as he flipped through his keys. I couldn't see his eyes from where I was standing, but I knew he was looking at me. I could feel it. It was a chill, it was a shiver and a double beat in my heart.

His hands stilled and the quiet of night filled the air between us. “No one will find you here, those men don't know where you are.”

“You don't know that.”

The man chuckled, his voice low and amused as he spoke. “Trust me, I know.”

In the faint light above the door, I watched him brush his hair away from his face and stick the key in the doorknob.

Taking a few steps closer, I kept watching him. I took note of his body language and how relaxed he looked after everything that happened, despite what he had done. It made me question myself more about how good of a person he was.

He's done things. . . Bad things.

No one could act that casual if they had just killed someone for the first time. I wasn't stupid. There was no panic on his face, no shaking in his fingers.

What am I walking into?

Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes steadied on mine. A flash of sympathy sparked in his stare as soft lines drew up across his forehead. My chest constricted as a thin rope strung between us, linking us together. We had gone through something together, good or bad, that didn't matter. We were connected, we were bonded by our actions. He killed and I watched him, I shot someone and he stood by my side while I did it.

As quickly as that sympathy appeared, it was gone. The look he gave me faded away, disappearing behind stone-cold eyes as his jaw angled hard and his shoulders squared.

“I'm not going to stay out here and hold your hand, you can come or you can stay, it's your choice.”

I couldn't help but feel hurt and rejected, like he had just severed that tie, leaving me to carry the burden alone. Hugging myself, I darted my eyes away, unsure of what to say.

“Well? You coming or staying?”

Choice. . . He's actually making it my choice?

My brain rumbled and turned, trying to remember what it meant to decide for myself. It felt foreign, like I was being toyed with. Why would he ask me that? What kind of game is this?

“What if I say no?” Fiddling with the thin cloth around my waist, I twisted my toe into the ground. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Arching a brow, his lip twitched at the corner. He stood quiet, mouth contorting with voiceless letters, contemplating the right words to use. “I'm not going to do anything to you. But I wouldn't suggest you stay out here, not if you want to see tomorrow.”

What the hell does that mean?

I couldn't figure out if his words were laced in threat or if he was just trying to gently convince me to come inside.

Fuck, Bijou, stop the mind game shit already! Maybe it means nothing at all.

You can't stay out here, you know that, just go inside.

A brisk gust of wind whipped against my body, causing me to sway on my heels as my skin flooded in icy goosebumps.

His house is probably warm, don't be stupid about this.

Staying outside wasn't a good option. It was cold as shit, and the thin t-shirt and ragged panties I had on were barely thick enough to count as clothing. I would freeze to death before the sun rose, and I didn't get free to just die in some twisted hand of fate.

“Alright.” The sand spilled between my toes as I walked up the driveway. Climbing the first step, I looked up at him, allowing my eyes to meet his. “Tha—”

“Don't,” he said, forcing the words back down my throat. “Don't thank me. I said they didn't know where you are, that doesn't mean this is over.” Pushing the door open, he stepped inside, allowing the screen door to flap shut behind him.

Standing on the step, I gently pulled open the door and poked my head inside. Looking side to side, I took the last step in and shut the door behind me.

The house was welcoming and cozy. It smelled like my grandmother's trailer from when I was a kid, with a musty scent, like old fabric and pine floor cleaner. Inhaling a deep breath, I basked in the familiar notes in the air, allowing that simple memory to put me at ease.

A dark blue couch was set against the wall, the edges worn down and frayed. The carpet was thin, doing nothing to stop the sub-floor from crackling and splitting as I stepped further inside. There was a small kitchen to my right, and a hall that hid the rest of the house.

Lowering my eyes to the table beside the door, my shoulders fell forward to investigate the picture in the frame.“This is cute,” I said, running my finger across a colored image of a cat popping out of a basket full of yarn.

“Don't touch anything.” His voice snapped as he whipped his head over his shoulder, brows veering in hard. “Not a fucking thing.”

Pins and needles prickled my body, making my hair stand up on the back of my neck. “I—I'm sorry, I didn't—” Jerking my body upright, my eyes grew wide. I stood waiting for him to strike me, to punish me for over stepping my boundaries in his home.

Don't hurt me, you said you wouldn't.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his lids and took in a deep breath. “It's been a long day, a lot of shit went down that I would have preferred to avoid. I'm going to bed, you should get some rest too. The couch is yours for tonight.” His voice was rough, his muscles tensed and tight.

Exhaling hard, I shook my head in agreement. “Yeah, some sleep would be good.”

He was right, rest could help us both. I knew he needed to collect his thoughts, maybe try to figure out what where we would go from here.

And my head was still spinning from this complete three-sixty. Yesterday I was a captive, today I was free. It was my dream come true and yet I still couldn't completely grapple the idea as reality.

The man disappeared down the hall, and I heard a door open and shut softly. I was alone, allowed to seek comfort on an actual piece of furniture. Inside I was jumping with joy like a kid on Christmas morning.

I can't believe this happening. . . Am I dreaming?

If I am, I hope I never wake up.

Plopping my body down onto the couch, I fell onto my side and curled my arms under my head. That cushion was the most comfortable thing I had laid on since Diablo took me from my home.

The thick padding cradled my skull and my eyes instantly began to close. They were so heavy, begging and aching for sleep. The room began to fade, my lids blinking and opening, blinking and opening, each time a little deeper and longer.

Footsteps approached, a figure taking shape and fuzzy above me as I opened my eyes one last time. I couldn't keep my eyes open long enough to know if the figure was the stranger or if it was someone else.

Blackness took over, my mind going into hibernation and refusing to wake up.

I was out, lost in dreams and nightmares.

Lost in false reality and forgotten happiness.

Sleep had finally won.