by Poppet
"Stop panicking. Let me help you."
With my unslimed hand I tear at the blindfold, scratching my face in the process. A firm grip lifts me off the floor. My eyes focus on him, and he's bloody smiling isn't he! Then they observe the piece of cactus in his hand.
"You are mean and a total wanker."
"I'd have to be, to be around you and not get it on."
Bastard. I feel myself smiling back.
"What is that?"
"Aloe."
"You couldn't resist messing with my mind, could you?" Accusation.
"Suggestion is that powerful. It's a lesson you needed to learn. Stop trusting words and start trusting instinct."
I feel weak after that. I wipe my hand off on his bare chest. "You're going to have to pay the toll fee for that stunt."
An arched eyebrow aims at me.
"A hug, you stupid man. I need one, now. I feel all shaky."
Laughter tumbles around me again as he pulls me in for a squeeze.
"Phoebe, start trusting me. Put faith in that."
"Arse."
I look up and feel breath stolen again when unexpected lips close on mine, hovering, just waiting for the opening.
*
After eating, he leads me into a rather lavish bathroom. My pulse picks up with anticipation. Über romantic pad with all these candles flickering seductively.
"So where's the Tchaikovsky, or Barry White?"
He flips the taps on to fill the tub.
"I don't play by rules."
"No kidding."
The water pressure in here must be phenomenal. He's already switching them off.
"Come here."
Willingly I walk into his arms across cold white marble tiles. The candlelight is reflecting off the huge wall to wall mirrors. I love seeing us together. Finally! Hmmm, perfect couple if you ask my opinion. Not that anyone will.
What are you doing? Gasp!
He just picks me up and plunges me into the tub. His hand firmly holding my waistband. Make me look like a toy. Wait!
I grip his arm, opening my mouth to speak when he fully submerses me and I swallow a mouthful of water. Choke! Fighting for breath. Let me up! Seithe! Lashing frantically I struggle with his strength. No grip! Panic overrides everything else. Thrashing desperately. Air! Air! I need to breathe! No!
Betrayal, hurt, fear, burning pain in chest. Save yourself! No! Please no! Nooooo! I don't want to die! Water, breathing in. Please! Sobbing. Can't breathe! Eyes burning. Chest closing. Wild thrash! Scratching at the arm holding me under. Clawing desperately!
PLEASE!
I fucking trusted you! My instinct is to draw air. I can't prevent it no matter how hard I try to fight it. HELP! My mouth opens and I breathe in. Frantic lashing, struggling, twisting. Fight! Water!
LURCH.
Inhale. Huuuuuuuuh. HAAAAAAAAAH. Cough. Water spills out of my mouth. He lifts me out of the bath. Frantic, I slide, crawling desperately to get away from the FUCKING MADMAN! Wracking cough. I still can't breathe. Thump. More water comes spewing out of me. I'm alive. Barely.
Get away. NOW! Burning lungs. Tears blurring vision. Chest severely aching. Head throbbing.
GET AWAY!
Trying to stand, slipping on the cold floor. Fall. Ouch. Bump. Eyes burning. Everything feels heavy. Urgency clutches me.
Somehow, from where I don't know, my voice screams out of me when he clamps a hand on my ankle. "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!"
Hack. Cough. Fighting for breath.
Phoebe run.
"Wait!"
"Fuck off!"
Claw, crawl, get away! Kick at hand. On knees, almost on feet. Run!
He's got me. OH GOD, NO!
"Stop panicking."
"YOU JUST TRIED TO DROWN ME YOU INSANE LUNATIC!"
Hand firmly on my shoulder, thumb in the hollow above my collar bone. Pressing down painfully.
His voice commands sternly, "Calm down."
Black. The sloshing bath ... his voice ... fades. Slump.
*
My eyes open and I become aware that I'm lying on something very cold and hard. Recollection comes flooding back, and I sit up rapidly, ready to bolt. His hands push me back down and he holds me so tightly that I know this is it. Now I'm dead for sure.
"Do not speak. Try to remain calm."
I stare up at him. Wounded.
How could you do this to me?
I'm fighting tears of betrayal and hurt.
I was smitten, and you just wanted me here to destroy. I don't want to die.
This realisation makes me start sobbing with anticipation. Held down against my will by my beautiful insane man. I'm not ready. Sob. Wail.
"Phoebe, please. I need you to understand why I did that."
"Why? You're fucked up, that's why!"
WAIL!
"I need you to remember how you're feeling. Why did you fight me so hard? What for?"
"Because I'm not ready to die!"
Sniff!
"What were you fighting for?"
"Life! My life!"
"Specifically, what were you fighting for?"
I try to sit up, but he holds me down.
"Air!"
"Why do you need it?"
"To breathe."
"Remember this. I need you to remember this."
"I'll never bloody forget it!"
"Phoebe, you are going to be given a choice soon. When you get that choice, I want you to remember this panic. Why you fought me. I need you to remember how much you valued life and breath. Your heartbeat."
I'm broken. I'm just broken. I turn my head away, sobbing hysterically.
He lifts me off the floor, cradling me across his legs in his arms. Covering me with kisses. He's so warm.
"It was the only way. I'm sorry I had to do that to you."
I lay unwilling to engage him any longer. I stare with silently accusing eyes into his face. He's mad. He's totally loony. And for fuck's sake I think I'm in love with him. And he'll probably kill me sooner or later. How often has he done something insane to me? Too often since we've met. Tears stream silently out of my midnight blue eyes. I don't think we can ever go back. I'm a victim. I know I am. I can't escape. Despite my conflict, I soak in the comfort. Crying, terrified, I am appalled to find myself clinging back while I sob in mental despair against his chest.
Chapter 12: Alive
I don't resist at all when he picks me up and carries me back to his candlelit lair. I'm exhausted and on the edge mentally. I'm holding on with my last fingernail. Fraught, I watch flame induced shadows on the far wall. It smells mildly of cloves in here.
Vaguely claustrophobic I'm struggling with the panic that induces hyperventilation. I have to stay conscious. I wish my hair wasn't so cold and wet. I'm not sure if the shivering is from the fear quivering my stomach, or from the cold attacking my skin from being so damp.
I force myself to breathe when he starts peeling my wet jeans off after depositing me onto his bed. Staring at the ceiling sheathed in shadows; I'm still queasy from swallowing so much water. I am so far beyond terrified that I'm not sure I'm feeling any longer. Becoming engulfed in a disturbing numb resignation.
I'm experiencing mild relief that he doesn't seem intent on removing my black satin g-string. I'm trying to focus on something static. Something to help return calm. Anything to avoid looking into his eyes. I know he'll see how severely he's shattered my confidence if he looks into my eyes. I don't want him to know how petrified I am right now. Stupid girls end up with crazy men, alone in their dungeons. Did I learn nothing from Silence of the Lambs?
His head moves into my vision. My breathing becomes shallow with tension as I stare up into blue eyes. Flinching, I close my eyes when his head advances. Please don't say Clarise. Please don't peel my eyelids off. Please don't torture me.
A tight grip of hands on both sides of my face. Oh god he's going to hurt me now isn't he? My lips twist as tears escape in silent terror.
"
No. Phoebe, come on. Come back."
I draw ragged breaths, fighting the reflex to quiver.
"Open your eyes."
Parting my eyelids I stare back obediently. My heart is thrashing wildly, betraying me. He looks so sane.
"I didn't want this. I didn't think you'd react this way."
Numb stare. I am unresponsive because I'm irrevocably broken. He's shattered me.
Warm lips flutter around my face. Hot breath follows them. Maybe this shit turns him on?
Gentle whisper, "Where's the fighter? Baby push back. Don't succumb like this."
Just leave me alone. Please.
The bed depresses when he lays next to me. I am instantly so tense you could iron on me. He's covering me with the silk linen, dyed anthracite black. Please don't bury me alive. I close my eyes against the hot breath washing over me followed with delicate kisses.
He clutches me tightly; automatically the tension strung through me reaches snapping point. His thumb is rubbing the hollow below my collarbone absently.
Hoarsely I ask, "You made me pass out didn't you?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Pressure point ... here."
His thumb moves above my collar bone to the hollow there. I close my eyes again and swallow with difficulty.
"Don't give in like this Phoebe."
"Please don't hurt me any more."
I can't believe how different I sound. I don't even sound like me. Raw emotion subdues my voice, it sounds quavery and weak. Pleading doesn't work with crazy people, does it? That's why they do it, surely? He probably gets hard just hearing me verbalise that. I shouldn't have said anything.
He picks me up and cradles me, rocking me, one hand holding my head. He rests his forehead against mine.
And the Oscar for grief portrayal goes to Seithe the fuckhead.
I watch his eyes focus as he draws his head away, chocolate eyes stare into mine. Such gentle brown eyes. Wow, they sure do lie. I wonder if he's filming this to jack off to later?
"You are stronger than this. You are resilient. Stop submitting."
I'm caged and terrified.
"I want to go home."
He stares at me silently for what feels like eternity inside a heartbeat. Yes I can identify you, but the cops will think I'm mad when I tell them your eyes are blue and brown; or that your hair is white one moment and brown the next.
They'll shrug me off as a druggie who didn't get paid for services, or has a grudge. I'm helpless in every way. Bet that makes you feel powerful. Bet you find this funny or arousing. How many women leave here alive?
"You have free will, Phoebe. I respect that. Are you sure you want to leave before talking this through?"
There's nothing to talk about.
"Yes."
He puts a hand over my eyes, blotting out the shadows and his incredibly handsome face. Surprised with his apparent compliance, I feel myself slip back into unconsciousness.
*
I feel like I've slept for a century. Reluctantly I crawl out of my bed cocoon and wander to the kitchen counter. I'll never leave my phone behind again. I pick it up and slip it open.
How did I miss a whole day? I stare at the date and time. To my advantage this is a long weekend. I still feel hung-over to be honest and I haven't been drinking. The severity of my near escape with my life hits me hard. A sob escapes. My hand is shaking violently.
Fuck. What was I thinking? It's not safe out there any longer. You can't let a stranger pick you up in a club and trust you'll live to find your phone the next day. I need to get pepper spray, that's what I need to do. Yes. Definitely. Pepper spray is a single girl's must have.
Never go out without your phone. Stupid Phoebe. Stupid! Crossing myself, I silently thank the angels for saving me. I got lucky. I got away.
I notice the jeans folded at the end of my bed. Obsessive compulsive behaviour is a sign of a disturbed mind, isn't it? My shirt is back on. Creepy. Really, really creepy. I wonder how long he stayed here watching me? Going through my underwear, probably touching me indecently while I was unconscious. Silent freak out! I need my head read. I also need a shower.
After that I have to get supplies and clean this place before I can live here. Doubting my own sanity I pad barefoot over cold white tiles to the bathroom. I'm not sure if I dreamt it, or if it was real or not, but life takes precedence. Although it sure feels real to me.
Forty-five minutes later I leave for the shops on a quest for paint, food and cleaning supplies. I switch my phone off again, not wanting to deal with the sixty-two missed calls from Brian. I don't have any inclination to listen to the messages either.
Taking a brisk walk in the warm afternoon air past palm trees and blue hydrangeas, I'm happy to be in full sunlight. No hiding out here. It helps me to feel safe. My eyes are still wounded by bright light, but I don't care right now.
I step determinedly into Woolworths, pick up a basket and head straight for the food. I need the basic supplies, carrots, onions and the like. Wow, look at that smorgasbord of colour. Drawn to the fruit I am amazed by the electrifying hues. The tangerines are so vividly orange.
The apples delicately blushing on pale green. Ah, and the smell! It's fantastic. My mouth starts watering and I am like a child again.
My hand eagerly reaching for a crisp red, so smooth and shiny. I lift it to my nose, inhaling deeply. I could just sink my teeth into it right now. I must have it. Greedily I start placing choices into the basket.
But when I reach the pineapples the smell is so decadently evocative that I am transported to beaches and pina coladas instantly. Placing the basket between my feet I wrap both hands around the prickly roughness of it. Lifting the yellowest one to my nose. So sweet, it even smells succulent.
My god, what am I doing? I become aware of patrons staring at me like I've lost my mind. I have, haven't I? Smugly I grin to myself. *Wake Up!* I walk amongst the zombies, alive.
I feel as if I've woken from a coma. Every smell, every colour, every texture, feels new, as if I'm noticing it for the first time. I can't help but caress everything I pass with my fingertips.
The oranges with their perforated coverings, the bananas feel rubbery, the carrots still smell like soil, and the herbs ... Heaven on earth sums up the fresh herbs. Garlic is pungent enough to make your eyes water when your sensors are turned up to full volume.
The plastic bottle the bleach comes in is so smooth and slippery. Someone should have filmed me when I opened the toilet paper up to rub the tissue against my cheek. I thought he was mad. But I'm sure the other shoppers think I just landed here from Uranus.
I laugh at my own joke.
I'm eager to get home. I rush through the check out and almost skip with my backpack lounging off my shoulder, into the sunshine. I stop and soak it in. Hot kisses touching me. A delicate sea breeze tenderly loving my cheeks, running invisible fingers through my hair.
A lump forms and my eyes mist. It all reminds me of him. My sick hottie. Is he sick though? Shit. Now I'm conflicting myself. I thought he was messing with me, but I haven't been this rejuvenated since I was six, maybe seven? I am vibrant. I am experiencing LIFE! A cocktail of euphoria and exuberance filters through me, injecting me with an energetic gait.
An infectious laugh grabs me, and I let it spill out at my sheer joy of this gift, this enticing daily experience, just thrilling me! I'm tingly and want to do cartwheels. I smile at complete strangers and laugh when they stare at me as though I'm strange.
At home I eagerly pull out that apple and crunch into it. The loud KA sound it makes as I break off the first bite enthrals me further. Hmm so juicy and crunchy. Munching I walk to the bathroom to put supplies away. I smile at myself and start giggling uncontrollably. I left the vamp teeth in! No wonder they were all staring at me like I was in need of medication. Waaaaaahahahahahaha!
I'm happy. I'm alive and the thought of it is finally in my conscious awareness. Time disappears like a desert mirage in my joyf
ul daze. It hits me that I've cleaned everything, packed all of my things away and turned a hollow apartment into a home, in oblivious mental buzzing.
Still not tired, I slump into the futon now being a chair and pull out my phone. I open my laptop and switch both on. My phone beeps. I ignore the world waiting for me to justify my actions and check email, connecting via the bluetooth on the phone.
Lordy! Nine messages from a panicked mother. Seventy-four from Shithead Brian. And one from RevengeOfTheSeithe. Oh very funny!
I click on his first, curious.
Phoebe I do not expect you to understand my methods. When you are ready, you can contact me using this address.
Seithe
Tears swirl my vision into murky liquid. He touches a nerve. He transcends my mind and connects to me on a soul level. It's freaky, it scares me shitless, but I am drawn to him. His advice was to trust my instincts. My instincts want him back.
My logic tells me *Get your head out of your pants*. Somewhere in between I want to argue with that inner voice of dissent. It's more than animal attraction. It's deeper than that.
He's something really special. That's half the reason why he shocked me, horrified me, and why I'm hopelessly addicted. I think I'll let him stew while I wrap my head around what I should or shouldn't do.
It could just be that purple liquid that alters the chemicals in my brain. I'll give myself a week to get it out of my system and see how I feel then.
Sighing heavily I pick up my phone and start listening to messages.
"Babes! Babes pick up!"
Next: Phoebe honey where are you baby?
Next: This isn't funny! Where the hell are you?
Next: You can't just leave! You owe me an explanation! Maybe we can take you to see a doctor? Therapy might help you with your anger issues. Come home honey, we can work this out.
Next: Stop being such a childish bitch. Get your ass back here or we are over!
Next: You leave me no choice! Who is he? Have you been cheating on me? Good thing you left! I don't need your type in my life! Cheaters always prostitute! It's that asshole from your work isn't it?
