by K. Webster
Sighing, I get up and make my way toward the dreaded stairwell. I’m so busy worrying over Liam’s behavior that I’m already in the basement before I even realize I made it all the way down with no panicking.
I smile at my breakthrough and pull out all of the clothes from the dryer. Maybe hanging out with Liam is good for my psyche. For the first time in over eleven years, I don’t feel like a prisoner. Half my life, I was Momma’s prisoner. Now that I’m on my own, I’m a prisoner of my past. Of my psychological conditions brought on by that past. With Liam as my friend, I feel them slipping away.
“Hello again, pretty lady,” a deep voice says from behind me.
All happy, carefree thoughts immediately dissolve as his oily words soak my skin. I spin around and come face to face with the creep from earlier. My heart is frantically pounding as he looks at me like I’m on the menu. When he licks his lips, I step back until my bottom hits the dryer.
“Leave me alone,” I command, feigning a stern tone.
He inches toward me, and I press myself as far as I can into the dryer, shrinking away from him. I’m suddenly sweating profusely. Blackness eats at my vision and the room starts to spin. When the man presses himself against me so that I feel his erection on my belly, I pass out.
Cold water splashes my face and I jerk my eyes open. My heart pounds as I try to figure out what’s going on. I’m lying on the floor in the basement and someone is crouched beside me. I suddenly remember the disgusting man and scramble away from the person in front of me.
“Leave me alone! Don’t touch me!” I shriek as I quickly stand on wobbly knees.
“Sidney, calm down! It’s me, Liam. He’s gone.”
My eyes fly to him as he stands. It is, in fact, Liam, and I’ve never wanted to hug someone more in my life. But of course, I can’t. I’m so shaken about that man touching me that I run to the sink and empty my stomach. Convulsions rack through my body as I remember him pressed against me. I start to cry and my skin begins itching wildly.
“Sidney, calm down,” Liam says softly from behind me.
But I can’t calm down. I itch too badly. That man touched me. My belly where his erection was pushed against itches the most. Immune to what’s going on around me, I slip my hands under my dress, hitching it up past my hips, and begin furiously scratching the skin. I can’t relieve the burn.
From the corner of my eye, I see Liam filling a bucket in the sink. I step away from him as I continue to gouge my skin with my fingernails. My breaths are coming out raggedly. For some reason, I can’t stop myself. I feel helpless as I continue to claw at myself, drawing blood.
“Sidney, snap out of it!” I hear Liam shout from beside me. It doesn’t work to pull me from my trance.
When I’m suddenly doused with a bucket full of cold water, I cry out. The icy shower is a wakeup call, and I pull my shaky hands out from under my dress.
Liam is watching me, his eyes darting all over me as if to make sure I’m okay. He doesn’t reach to touch me, and I’m extremely thankful. When I look down at my hands, I frown at the blood on my fingernails.
Tearfully, I look up at him. “He touched me.” I’m shaking violently as I once again think about his hardness smashed against me.
“Sid, get upstairs now. Come on. You’ll feel better in your apartment,” he commands. He looks incredibly worried.
I nod and sprint out of the basement and up the stairs. His feet pound the steps behind me.
Once I reach my apartment door, I slam the door in his face and run to the window. I need that air like my life depends on it. With shaky hands, I lift the window and greedily suck in the fresh air. My mind is all over the place as I try to process what just happened. Liam must have taken the hint and backed off, because he didn’t follow me inside.
I close the window and half-stumble to the bathroom. After yanking my dress off, I turn on the shower and step into the cold, blissful water. I let it run over my skin, washing away that man’s voice, touch, and scent. Tears flow as I realize that this one incident has set me back. Way back.
Once I’m shivering, long past cleaning, I turn off the water. I quickly dry off and make a beeline toward my bed, naked. All I want is to crawl under my cool sheets and sleep away the stress of it all. I need to retreat into my safe haven of unconsciousness.
When I enter my room to see Liam stretched out on my bed, I nearly have a panic attack.
“What are you doing here?” I demand angrily. The man’s seen me naked so many times that I’m not even embarrassed.
“You need someone right now. I won’t touch you. You know that. Just get under the covers so we can talk.” He lifts the sheet for me.
Wanting nothing more than to be under them, I make my way over to the bed and slide under the sheet. He drapes it over me and rolls over to his side, propping up on one elbow.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
Am I okay? No, not really. Not at all. Some man violated me in the worst way I know of, so no, I am not okay.
“No, Liam. This is my life. I hate it. Sometimes I wonder if what waits beyond this life is any better, because quite frankly, I’ve lived half of my life in hell. Can’t get any worse, I suppose,” I tell him, surprising myself at the dark confessions spewing out.
“Don’t say that,” he whispers.
I ignore his quiet plea and continue. “Momma ruined my life. I hate her and I hate my father. If he wouldn’t have left, I could have been a normal child who went to school, had friends, and didn’t have to worry about bleach baths. But no—my deadbeat father had to walk out on us and send my mother into fucking Crazyland. He left me alone with that wicked woman. She turned into a monster and hurt me in the worst possible way. I hate this life.” My tone is even and cold.
“Sidney, you don’t mean that. Trust me.”
“No, Liam. You don’t understand. I have nothing to live for. My life consists of bizarre rituals and routines. The one thing that humans need to make them feel human in the first place is touch. No matter how badly deep down I want it, I can’t deal with it. She fucked my head up too badly. Sometimes I just think it would be easier if I didn’t have to—”
Suddenly, Liam is in my face, his lips just inches from mine. “You. Don’t. Mean. That.” The cool air tickles my lips, and I hold my breath as my heart beats wildly in my chest.
I may loathe the idea of that man from the basement touching me, but being like this with Liam makes me feel things I don’t feel around anyone else.
“Say it, Sidney. I need to hear that you don’t mean it. Please.”
His chocolate-brown eyes are searching mine, begging me to respond. The way he’s looking at me is sad, which confuses me since we’ve only know each other a few days. People don’t care about one another that quickly. Do they? His eyes, though… They convince me.
“I don’t mean it. Sometimes though, I like to imagine another life. A life where I’m not like this,” I whisper.
I’ve said the right thing because he smiles approvingly at me, all melancholy washed away.
“Lucky for you, you can change your path at any time. It doesn’t always have to be like this. I mean, already you’ve warmed up to me. We get so close to touching it drives me crazy. I know eventually you will let me touch you. Until then, I’ve got all the time in the world to wait for you.”
When he says “touch,” his eyes drop to my lips, where I find my pulse quickening once again. Inhaling, I accept his wonderful scent into my lungs.
“Now get some rest. You’ve had a hell of a day,” he instructs and pulls himself away from my personal space. Leaning back against the pillow, he folds his arms—in typical Liam fashion—and closes his eyes. My own eyes follow him to where he is attempting to sleep. I never would have thought a month ago that I would be in my own apartment with a really hot guy in my bed. It is almost laughable. Almost. But right now, there is nothing laughable at the way he looks, his long legs stretched out over the length of my bed.
&n
bsp; Since he is sleeping—or at least attempting to—I roll over to my side to look at him better. I would love to run my hands through his dark, messy hair just to see what it feels like. Of course I refrain. My gaze falls to his perfect face. He really must be one of the most good-looking men I have ever seen. Dark, long eyelashes jut out over his flawless skin. A slight amount of stubble covers his cheeks, lips, and chin. Those lips are so full and perfect.
His black T-shirt is stretched across his muscular chest, and I wish I could see what is underneath. I bet lines clearly define each muscle. The shirt has ridden up just a bit, and I can see creamy skin sprinkled with dark hair leading to his jeans. I throb between my legs and gasp. When my gaze finds its way to his jeans and the bulge in front, I blush but can’t look away. The throbbing becomes more prominent, and I feel the urge to ease the ache.
My hand that’s resting on my side inches its way down between my legs, tentatively touching the patch of hair on my pubic bone. Rolling onto my back but keeping him in my vision, I slide a finger between my folds. The swollen part of me that seems to be throbbing with need begs me to touch it. Experimentally, I swipe over it and gasp at the thrill that shoots through my body.
Feeling braver, I press at it a little harder this time and allow myself to enjoy the foreign sensation that burns through me. From the romance books, I know that this is my clit and that it’s the ticket to an orgasm. Until now, I’ve been too afraid to test it out. Now I know I was stupid not to.
Glancing over at Liam’s face, I am relieved to see that he’s breathing in a rhythmic cadence, indicating sleep. I want to see myself, so I pull the sheet away and gaze down at my sex. Finding my opening, I dip my finger inside and am shocked to realize that it’s wet inside. Dragging it out and back over my clit, I bite back a moan from the sheer pleasure of the feeling. As I repeat the gesture, my breaths quicken, as does my heart rate.
This time, I do it quicker and spend more time massaging the swollen flesh that throbs. My eyes roll back into my head as I feel tension gather in my pelvic region. A few more swipes and I am close to the edge. The edge of what? When cold, familiar breath blows over my bare breast, I crash over that edge.
Shuddering wildly, I moan out loud as bursts of electricity shoot through my body. I’m amazed at how exhilarating it feels. Jolts ensue sporadically and I sigh between each one, satisfied. More cold breath blows on my breast, and I jerk my eyes open.
Liam is blowing on me while he looks up at me with the hottest look I’ve ever seen on anyone. He looks like he might devour me at any second. And I think I want him to.
“That was the sexiest fucking thing I have ever seen in my entire life,” he growls, wafting chilly breath on my breasts again. I shudder and suppress a grin as I feel another throb that begs for me to touch myself again.
“You watched me?” I question in a whisper.
“I helped you.”
I bite my lip and close my eyes. His breath did actually send me over the edge. A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.
“You are so beautiful. I wish it were my finger instead of yours. It would feel so much better, you know.”
I whimper at his words and imagine his long finger touching me. What would it feel like to have him dip it inside me and drag my wetness across my sensitive clit? A moan escapes my lips at the mere thought of it.
“I can see that you’re imagining it. Sidney, one day you’ll warm up to me, and when you do, I’m going to make you feel so good.”
My body shivers, because one day, I hope it will be true. When I bite my lip and look up at him, he groans and rolls over to his back.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I drag the sheet back across my body.
“You’re too much. It takes every ounce of self-control for me not to pounce on you. But you aren’t ready and I’m not going to push you. Right now, I’ll take what I can get.”
He closes his eyes again, and this time, I do too. I feel deliciously sated and quickly fall into a slumber.
My skin is burning, which is only adding to the irritation from yesterday’s bleach bath. I can feel the bile rising in my throat, and no matter how hard I try to keep it down, it makes its way out. The vomit shoots all over my bed before I can stop it. Instantly, I am crying, not because I got sick but because I know what’s coming.
The door bursts open and I shriek in surprise. “You’re sick,” she says in a tone that tells me Nurse Momma is here. The sobs continue to rack my body as she begins pulling the sheets from my bed. I scramble up and out of the bed, attempting to stay out of her way. It feels like I may get sick again, so I hurry to the bathroom, where I hug the toilet seat. The cool tile helps to refresh me.
I can’t believe I’ve let this happen. Nurse Momma hardly comes around—thank goodness—but when she does, it scares me to death. I lose time from my life, and I don’t understand what happens. Not just hours but days, even weeks. It’s all a confusing fog after Nurse Momma gets ahold of me.
The bathroom door creaks open, and I whimper. “Please, Momma. I won’t get sick anymore.”
When she comes into view and I see the latex gloves, I vomit uncontrollably in the toilet again. Her voice sends shudders through my body when she says, “There, there, child. Momma’s here to take care of you.”
I’m still curved over the toilet when she yanks my arm to her. I wince even before the sting of the needle hits my arm. Nurse Momma always injects me with something that makes me lose all sense of myself. That’s my last thought before I slip into oblivion.
“Sidney, wake up!” a deep voice bellows, successfully ripping me from my nightmares from the past.
I blink and take in the dark room. The sheets are tangled all around me and I’m sweating profusely. Even though I can’t see Liam, I can smell him and feel his cool breaths from close beside me.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly this time. My chest is still heaving as I try to force the nightmare back into the catacombs of my mind.
“I need a shower,” I croak at him and untangle myself from the bed. But first I need air.
All but running, I make it to the window in the living room and voraciously inhale air into my lungs once I manage to get it open. I’m a little calmer, but I still need the cold shower to bring me back down to earth. When I go to take my shower, I see Liam’s beautiful face, the moonlight reflecting on it. He’s leaning against the arm of the sofa, his arms folded as he scrutinizes me.
“Are you okay?” he tries again.
I nod unconvincingly as I breeze past him to the bathroom. After a long cold shower, once I’ve dried off, I locate a nightgown from the drawer and slip it on. It must be in the middle of the night, but I’m starved from sleeping through dinner, so I make my way into the kitchen to look for food.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, not looking up at him when I sense that he’s entered the kitchen behind me.
“No, I’m fine.”
I find a can of chicken noodle soup, which seems fitting with my mood, and heat it up on the stove. He doesn’t say anything more, so after a while, I decide to peek over at him. The man is absolutely gorgeous as he stands in the entryway to the kitchen, his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes bore into mine. They silently ask for answers, but I deny him as I turn back to my soup.
Once it’s done and I’ve poured it into a bowl, I sit down at the table, where he immediately follows suit.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Sid. I won’t leave you alone until you do.”
I blow on the spoon, which is just inches from my face, and sip it before answering him.
“I had a nightmare.”
“Yeah, I gathered that. About what?” He’s intense and serious, which means I won’t get away from this battle easily. I just really don’t want to think about it.
Sipping another spoonful of the soup, I delay a few moments more. Finally, I sigh before giving him his answer.
“I had a nightmare about Nurse Momma.”
I know that
answer isn’t sufficient and will only put more questions in his head, but that’s what comes out first. When I glance over at him, he’s glaring furiously.
Stammering, I continue. “It was more of a memory than a dream. When she was Nurse Momma, things were at their worst for me. I have a hard time thinking about it, much less talking about it.”
His eyes hold so much hate and anger that I cower down in my chair. I don’t understand why he’s so upset with me. When he sees my reaction, something inside him snaps and he softens.
“Hon, I’m not mad at you if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m fucking pissed off that your mother abused you so badly. Why do bad things happen to good people?” he asks mostly to himself as he regards me.
I shrug my shoulders, fighting tears as I eat a little more soup before I lose my appetite altogether.
“If I ever so much as coughed, or especially if I vomited, she would instantly put on her latex gloves and become Nurse Momma. What’s so terrifying is that I don’t remember much of went on during those times. All I had to go off of were some sketchy memories during the ‘black time’ and weird injuries to my body. It was terrifying when she would come towards me with the injection.” A shudder passes through my body at the thought, and I no longer want the soup.
“What do you mean injection?” he asks, and when I look over at him, his eyes are incredulous.
“Well, that’s the problem. I don’t know exactly what it was. All I know is that, once she injected me, I went down fast and hard. For an unknown period of time, I would be in a dreamy trance only coming to long enough for another injection. Once she would deem me healthy, she’d back off on the injections and I would eventually become lucid again. The bruising and burning all over my body scared me. Not knowing what’s happening to you while you are unconscious is a horrifying. I didn’t dare ask her—ever.”
“I’m so sorry,” he says simply.
I shrug away his words as if it’s no big deal. The fact is, though, it’s a really big deal. I’ll never know what happened during those dark times, and it plagues my mind with terrible what-ifs.
