by M. Robinson
“What do you want, G?”
I smiled and breathed out a puff of air. “I want to travel the world.” I nervously laughed, sharing something with him that I had never told anyone.
“I want to see everything I read about in books. And taste all sorts of different food and not worry what it will do to my figure. I want to wake up every morning and not look in the mirror and wonder who is looking back at me.” I whimpered, trying to hold back the tears. I felt my eyes start to water.
I raised my eyebrow. “I want to fall in love. Not “I love you, I love you too,” love. I mean mind consuming, can’t live without you, soul devouring love.”
He positioned his hand on top of mine that was in my lap in a comforting way. “There is so much more to you than meets the eye. What’s so wrong with this person?”
“I’ve lied to everyone since I can remember. I can’t go back now. It’s too late.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s most definitely not. The drinking isn’t you, G.” I pulled in my lips. “You don’t think I can tell? I mean, do you honestly want your boyfriend to touch you like that in front of people? What do you think people are thinking when you put on a show like that?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“You aren’t this perfect persona that you try to make everyone see, and the fact that I’m the first person to call you out on it worries me.” I shrugged again.
“I want to be free. I want to feel like I do when I’m with you all the time,” I confessed, making my eyes widen in surprise of what I just shared with him.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry–I mean–I–” He put his thumb on my lip, shushing me.
“I want to feel like that, too,” he revealed, catching me completely off guard.
“Saying things like this, G, could get both of us, especially me, in a lot of trouble,” he disclosed, never taking his eyes from my lips.
“The way you’re looking at me could also get us in a lot of trouble. Especially me, because I have no will power when it comes to you.”
He breathed in my words that obviously caught him off guard. “Miss Edwards…” he warned in a conflicting tone.
“G.”
He licked his lips and groaned. “I better go,” he said, standing up.
I quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him back toward me. We both looked down on our interlocked fingers.
“I–” he said.
“Gianna.” I heard a shout from afar. It was Jake.
“Shit,” I shouted.
“Go,” he ordered. I looked down at our hands one last time before I let go.
I ran as quickly as I could.
Not toward Jake.
But…away from Mr. Nichols.
I tried to open my eyes.
At first I thought I was dreaming; my head felt heavy and my body even heavier, the room felt like it was spinning. I was lightheaded, and even though I had just woken up, I was tired, exhausted even. I slowly moved my head side-to-side, trying to wake up. It was then that I realized there was something on my eyes keeping me from being able to see or open them. I tried to say something but nothing came out. My mouth was bonded by what I could only assume was tape. I wanted to scream, I should’ve felt fear, but I was drained of any emotion. I allowed it to take over and passed out.
I awoke again, but this time I was less hazed and I recognized immediately that my displacement had not changed. I was in the exact same place I was before. There were binds that had my hands tied and held together above my head, and my feet and thighs were tied as well. I wanted to scream, but it came out as a muffled shriek. I didn’t care and I tried it again and again until my throat burned from the vibrations. My fight instinct kicked in and I moved rapidly, trying to break free from the binds. I did that until my body couldn’t anymore and I was sweating profusely. I lay there and tried to recall how I could’ve found myself in that situation, breathing heavily. I couldn’t remember anything and my last memory was of being home.
I should have been crying, and I couldn’t tell if I was in shock because I didn’t feel anything. I was numb. It was then that I felt the back of a hand touch the side of my face and I froze, not moving one muscle. My mind went into overload; someone had been with me the entire time. They watched the turmoil I just exhibited and didn’t make a sound.
Who does that?
His hand was still on the side of my face and hadn’t moved. It was comforting and creepy all at the same time. My breathing was labored and my heart was racing. Questions started to arise in my mind, one right after the other.
Who are you? What do you want with me? Are you going to hurt me?
I knew it had to have been a male; the hand on my face was large and rough. Other than that, I didn’t have a clue as to who would’ve wanted to take me. If it was just for sex, I would’ve probably given it to him; I would’ve also let him tie me up if that’s what he was in to.
Before I could continue with my mindless thoughts, the tape was roughly pulled from my mouth and I screamed out in pain. All the illusions of this possibly being a dream became a nightmare within seconds.
“What do you want?” I blurted out, trying to seem fearless. People can only hurt you if you let them and I learned that a long time ago.
The next thing I knew, the back of a hand was hitting me across the face like he knew what I was thinking.
I groaned in pain, and without thinking, I reacted. “What the fuck? What do you want?” Again, I was hit across the face before the words even left my mouth.
That time, tears streamed down my face. “Please stop…just tell me what you want…” Once again, I was hit in the same spot, and even though I knew it was impossible, I swear I saw stars through the blindfold. My stomach felt sick and my body recoiled. I wanted to avoid passing out, terrified he would do something to me. My head hung low; I didn’t have the strength or ability to hold it up anymore.
I shuddered when I felt his hand caress the cheekbone that he hit repeatedly; it was gentle and tender as he smoothly ran it up and down. My breathing was elevated and I couldn’t control the tears and confusion that were pouring out of my shaken body.
“Shhh…” he whispered.
At first, I thought I imagined it, but then I heard it again. “Shhh…” It was low and vibrant.
“Shhh…”
That sound would forever be embedded in my mind. I didn’t dare say another word. The simple, yet, powerful sound of what he was implying burrowed deep among my bones and made itself at home. His hand hadn’t moved from my cheek, as he continued to caress it in a back and forth motion. I wanted to scream or say something, but I was not ready for the repercussions.
His hand moved away and I instantly missed it. It was replaced with what felt like a cold washcloth. He ran it over my face and neck, and it was soothing. It provided me with a false sense of reassurance, even if it was only for a few minutes. I let myself think that everything was going to be okay. He left the washcloth on my injured cheek and water began to drip to my lips. I promptly closed my mouth shut, not wanting to swallow anything he was giving me. Not even a moment later, my nose was pinched closed and I instinctively opened my mouth for air. The thought of him wanting to suffocate me presented itself and I was shaken. Water dripped into my mouth and it was then that I understood he was asking me to drink. As soon as I attempted to swallow, he let go of my nose and I took as much water into my mouth as possible.
I was starving for it, and at that point, I realized that I had no say in what would happen and I needed to follow instructions. The dehydration was apparent and I didn’t care that it was getting all over my upper body and the mattress behind me. I took in every ounce of what he was giving, completely greedy for it. When the water stopped, I closed my mouth to enjoy the moisture that replaced the dryness. I didn’t have time to revel in it before I heard the sound of duct tape being ripped. I was pushed into the mattress with a knee on my chest and sternly grabbed by my chin to keep me in place. The duct tape was p
laced on my mouth and the sensitive skin was evident when it was pressed into place.
I waited for his next move as my heart raced and hysteria threatened. The bed dipped and I stiffened when I felt air brushing my face, no, that wasn’t air, it was breathing. It was labored and relaxed, satisfied even.
“Shhh…” he murmured in my ear, causing goose bumps to cover my entire body.
“Those lips that Love's own hand did make breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate', to me that languished for her sake: 'I hate' she altered with an end, that followed it as gentle day, doth follow night, who like a fiend from heaven to hell is flown away. 'I hate', from hate away she threw, and saved my life, saying 'not you,'”[6] he whispered.
The bed dipped again and I heard footsteps, and then a door closed and locked. I took a deep breath expecting it relieve some nervousness and anxiety. It didn’t work.
He had finally found me…
I sat on a dock outside that overlooked the lake. My parents had dragged me to this wedding and it had just started. I’d stolen a bottle of wine from the bartender when he wasn’t looking. I didn’t have a glass so I had to drink it straight out of the bottle. I turned when I heard footsteps behind me, terrified it was my dad.
I smiled. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought that was you,” he acknowledged, taking a seat next to me.
“You should take your shoes off, the water feels great.”
He nodded and proceeded to take off his shoes and socks. “It does feel great,” he affirmed, swishing his feet along the water, knocking them into mine so I would do the same.
“I know the groom from college. I actually grew up in this town and I couldn’t wait to get out.” He must’ve seen the confused look on my face, wondering why he was there.
“Oh,” I said, not knowing how to answer. He had never shared anything with me before and I wanted to take in every word.
“Your parents know you’re out here?”
I shook my head no.
“I bet they don’t know you’re drinking either?”
I smiled and shook my head no again.
“Miss Edwards, you’re just trouble with a capital T, aren’t you?”
I laughed. “Not entirely. What are you doing out here?”
“I’m not big on weddings. It’s for everyone else. You end up spending all this money on a day you hardly remember because you’re the guest of honor and everyone wants to talk to you or take pictures. I barely even remember my wedding, I hate being the center of attention, but Sarah insisted on a big wedding and our parents expected it from us.
I sighed; I didn’t want to talk about his wife or marriage.
“Want to drink?” I asked, taking a huge gulp, wanting to erase what I had just heard.
“I think I should take the bottle away from you.”
“Oh! Come on. We aren’t on school property so technically you’re not my teacher right now. You should live a little Mr. Nichols, it keeps you young.”
He laughed. “Oh…is that what does?” He shoved my shoulder with his. “Give me the bottle.”
“Ugh! Party pooper.” I took a few quick swigs before he pulled it away from my mouth, making me laugh and spray half of it out onto his hands and face, which only made me laugh harder. He started to laugh at my silliness and wipe away the wine from his face and I did the same to mine.
“You missed a spot,” he said as he swiped at my cheek. He let his hand linger for a second, then made a noise in the back of his throat and quickly moved it away.
“You know I’m breaking all sorts of rules and regulations right now,” he observed.
“Eh. I won’t tell if you don’t. Secrets are fun.”
He chuckled. “What are you doing out here?”
“I don’t know. I can’t stand to be around my parents right now. My dad is just…I don’t know and these kinds of weddings are so lavish and cliché. I would do a destination wedding in some please exotic like Tahiti where only he and I share our vows.”
He nodded and grinned. “That’s exactly how I would have done it.”
“Where’s your wife?” I blurted, catching him off guard.
“We’re separated. We’ve actually been separated since a few weeks after school started.”
“Oh.” I looked at him with wide eyes. “Why?”
“We’ve been together since we were kids. We actually grew up together, our families expected us to get married and so we did. Things have been rough the last few years. We had Cara thinking that it would help, and now three years later it’s still the same.”
“Do you love her?” Jesus…I had word vomit.
He nervously chuckled, swishing his feet around again in the water.
“I do–” he paused “–but–”
“I understand,” I interrupted. I knew exactly what he was going to say, he didn’t have to say the words. It was how I felt about Jake.
“It’s weird to think you’re a dad. You don’t act like an adult,” I teased, trying to change the subject.
“Is that a good thing or bad?” he inquired, looking relieved.
“It’s good. I know that’s why all the students at school like you so much. You’re easy to talk to.”
“I remember what it was like being your age. It’s tough,” he simply replied with a charismatic smile.
“You’re not that much older than me. And…I’m eighteen; I’m an adult, too.”
“Nah, a decade isn’t that much older,” he retorted and we laughed.
Smartass.
“Your dad just wants what’s best for you, you know? It’s what any father wants for their little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl,” I stated, looking directly into his eyes.
“Oh yeah?” He placed a piece of hair behind my ear and his knuckles grazed my cheek.
“What am I going to do with you, G?” he whispered.
“Anything you want,” I instinctively replied.
My chest heaved up and down and my breathing became erratic. I closed my eyes waiting for him to kiss me. He had to kiss me…I knew he felt it, too. There was no denying it.
Instead, I felt his forehead lean against mine and I opened my eyes to find that his were closed. He looked lost–in thought, in life, in everything. I recognized the look on his face because it matched the look on mine. The face that I only shared with the mirror when I stared at my reflection and I knew no one else could see it but me.
We were exactly the same. I knew in that moment that he was as lost as I was and our lives crashed together for a reason.
Everything happens for a reason, and he was my reason.
I woke up screaming from the duct tape being ripped off my face again. It sounded muffled and strangled from the dryness in my mouth. I had no recollection of how much time had passed, and the blindfold made it harder to distinguish if it was night or day. I wanted to keep screaming, but my face was sore and stung and there was no doubt a bruise on my cheek. He didn’t make a sound as I tried to twist and turn to remove some of the discomfort I felt from being tied up. I couldn’t see anything, not his face, not where I was, not one thing. I thrashed when I felt his hands on my ties, not wanting him to touch me. He slapped my face, not hard this time, just enough to get me to stop.
I was frozen, immobile again. He was close to me, closer than he had been before, and I could smell his scent. It was intoxicating to me; consumed every part of me, including my arousal. I was covered in sweat, and the heat coursing its way through my body made it apparent how badly I wanted him to touch me. I could feel my nipples harden and my skin tingle. Although I couldn’t see, I knew he was staring at me, I could feel his eyes wander around every part of me, and he knew what I felt and what he was doing to me. I didn’t want any part of it, but my body’s reaction to his touch proved that he still had power over me.
He could control me.
He still owned me.
Body, heart and soul.
His grip tig
htened around my wrist, and my first thought was that he was going to hurt me. He was going to tie them tighter and cut off more of my circulation. But he didn’t, he massaged them, trying to relieve my discomfort. I turned my head to the side, away from him as hot tears made their way down my face. He was being kind to me, although I would much rather prefer his hatred than his kindness.
His forefinger and thumb rubbed at the most sensitive part of where the bindings were cutting and I moaned. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I knew he was smiling. He was enjoying what he was doing to me and I hated him for it.
“Please…” I whispered, “Please…”
He immediately stopped. I knew he was fighting some internal battle with himself, his demons, and I was one of them. He sneered and moved away, and I could finally breathe, my body returned to me, to its rightful owner. The same process as before was repeated. However, this time he fed me warm oatmeal. My stomach was sensitive with every swallow I took. In the back of my mind, I was well aware that if I didn’t get alcohol in my body soon, I was going to start to go through withdrawal.
The last time I went through withdrawal I thought I was dying. I felt like I was dying. I didn’t last more than a few hours before I was taking my next drink. I could hear the tape being ripped and before I could stop myself, I pleaded, “Please…”
I wouldn’t scream; he knew I wouldn’t. He didn’t make a sound, contemplating what I was asking I’m sure. I took a chance and repeated it again. There was eeriness in the room everywhere; it was thick and cold. There was a power struggle happening and I nervously awaited the results. When the bed dipped, I knew I had won, and I silently smiled to myself.
Once I heard the door being locked, I welcomed the darkness with open arms, allowing myself to slip back into dreams of the man I once knew.
Jake opened the car door for me. “Thanks, babe.”
“Of course,” he replied as we walked inside the restaurant.
He still took me to those expensive dinners that I didn’t care anything about, but I didn’t tell him otherwise.
“Reservation for Jake Henderson,” he told the hostess and she nodded, grabbing menus and telling us to follow her.
