5. Fia
FIA
The walls of this house are yelling get out as I wander aimlessly through the corridors, desperate to trigger another memory.
While Emil is locked away in his study, I take the opportunity to walk around the house, waiting for something to click in my brain.
But the fog is thick, impossible to shift.
I take my time walking down each corridor, exploring each room, and I’m still in the same fucking boat I was in an hour ago.
Luka seems like a trustworthy guy. Unlike the man who brought me here, he seems honest, like there’s no secret agenda hidden up his sleeves.
Perhaps that explains why my clit has been throbbing all afternoon with the memory of him. There’s excitement in the unknown. Luka is the guy you confide in, whereas Emil is the guy who makes you turn your back on your morals…
And all for what? A good time?
His intentions are definitely blacker than his eyes. My pussy clings to the memory of him as I stumble into his room, the air filled with his sharp cologne.
Not fucking helping.
His bedroom, like the rest of the house, is furnished with dark oak, matching the gloomy atmosphere outside. The floor-to-ceiling windows seem to be a running motif, a feature in most rooms in the house.
I walk toward the window, folding my arms over my chest. Branches bounce as tiny birds hop their way across the trees. The forest looks never ending. Even two stories up, I’m struggling to find a way out, or even a gap in the trees that will allow me to see more than two yards ahead.
A tranquil feeling spreads through me, erasing some anxiety. It’s a familiar feeling, like I’m slipping into déjà vu. The feeling passes as soon as I turn around, examining the unmade bed.
I frown, running my hands over the soft blankets, the texture somewhat familiar underneath my fingertips.
And then something unusual captures my attention, causing me to rush over to the wooden headboard. Unusual markings are indented into the wood. I gasp, trailing my fingers over the marks. They look a lot like fingernails.
My heart picks up, my temperature rising as I compare my own fingernails to the scratches on the board.
Panic breaks out in the form of a white-hot flash, causing me to stumble into the bed.
A faint spell washes over me, causing the room to spin.
Just to be sure, I hold my fingernail up against the markings again, flexing my hand. And each scratch matches up perfectly…
What the actual fuck?
The alarm bells ringing in my ears are muted by my own arousal. The last fucking thing I should be feeling is horny, but can I blame myself? I was hit by a car. The rational side of my brain is still asleep in that coma.
I stare at the headboard, analyzing each scratch when the room spins again. I fall back, grabbing the sheets for support as the fog clears for just a moment.
“Such a fucking dirty girl,” grunts Emil. “Turn around so I can fuck you from behind.”
He flips me onto my back, my face pressed into the headboard.
He grabs my hands, crossing them over and pinning them above my head.
“What… are you doing?” I gag, barely able to speak.
“Taking away your ability to touch yourself.” He slams my hands into the headboard. “I’m the only person in this world who can you. If I see you rubbing your own pussy again, I'll handcuff you next time.”
His voice fades, replaced by a ringing silence as I sit back into the bed, blinking away the memory. My clit is throbbing even more than before.
I slam my head back into the headboard, groaning. Fuck Emil for being so self-entitled. And fuck me for allowing him to treat me that way. I’m pretty sure Emil likes to exercise violence in all areas of his life, even in the bedroom.
The markings on the wall must mean I touched myself without his permission and was punished as a result.
What will he do now if he catches me fingering myself on his bed? Lock me in chains? Punish me through violent sex? There’s a way we can find out.
I sigh, slipping a finger under my sweatpants waistband, feeling how wet I am down there. All of this is abnormal. The thought of sex has never made me soaked through my panties, to the point where I need to take action, just to relieve the burning feeling.
Emil has sex appeal, which is something a lot of people in this city are lacking. Sure, people are attractive, like Luka for example. He has nice eyes, and his friendly face makes him easy to trust, but it’s not enough.
I need an element of danger to feel something real. As far as I can remember, I’ve only known Emil a day, but he ignites something inside of me that has always felt cold.
I remember the way his eyes cut across the kitchen at me earlier. I lost all fucking control. He sees something nobody else does, a side of myself even I don’t fully recognize.
My desire for him triples when I start rubbing my clit. Little whimpers escape my mouth, my pussy so wet I hear a squelching sound as I insert two fingers and shut my eyes, reliving the brief memory of him fucking me.
But the fog drifts through my mind again, turning everything hazy.
I focus on what I do remember, seeing him shove the doctor up against the wall.
“My wife,” he had hissed, meaning every single fucking word, like he made the decision one day that I would belong to him, regardless of anyone else’s opinion, even mine.
There’s no logic to my desire, but I feel it anyway, allowing the pleasure to expand and dominate all areas of my body until I’m completely spent, fingering my pussy aggressively on the bed.
My orgasm is the only thing that matters, the entire world resting on my pleasure as I pump the fingers in and out, closing my eyes.
I see Emil standing across from me in the kitchen and imagine I’m rubbing my pussy on his face, experiencing the man without consequence.
I moan when the climax hits me, finger fucking myself until it’s all over. After taking a few moments to catch my breath, I take the fingers from between my legs and rise from the bed.
Time to act natural and pretend that didn’t happen.
Thankfully, I have an excuse, but I’m not sure how long I can use the amnesia card for before it becomes outdated.
In both lives, before and after the accident, I’m drawn to Emil. Perhaps the amnesia is the universe’s way of protecting me, forcing me to turn over a new leaf and accept the fog, since it could be there for a reason.
But as I head out of Emil’s bedroom, I catch a pile of dirty laundry sitting in a basket.
I take out various items, examining maternity clothes that, according to the sizes, look like they were bought recently.
I lived an entire life with this man. We were doing laundry together, sleeping in the same bed.
I grimace, running the luxury fabric through my fingers. All of these clothes are way out of my budget. I wouldn’t be able to afford clothes like these even if my boss gave me a promotion at work, which means Emil bought them all for me.
Alarm bells ring louder, shaking my eardrums. With my arousal out of the way, the red flags are clear, impossible to ignore. Being financially dependent on a man is like being trapped in a cave with no way out, and I fucking allowed myself to crawl into that cave.
I drop the clothes in a panic, disgusted at myself. Was I ever in love with this guy, or did I marry him because of the sex?
My heart thumps. I stand back up, crawling my hands up the wall to stabilize myself as the room spins once again.
I should get the fuck out of this place while Emil is in his office. I’m still in the dark about what it is he does for work. Men who wear expensive suits and live in obscure locations always have something to hide.
I know that for a fact.
Working as a forensic financial analyst smashes the rose-tinted glasses and opens your eyes to the real world. People break the law on a daily basis, and for some individuals, it’s as easy as breathing.
I stare at the dazzling ring on my finger. I wouldn’t marry a stranger. Once upon a time, I knew this man, so why is he keeping his cards close to his chest?
We’re married. He shouldn’t have anything to hide.
One would think...
But marriages can be complicated, and me being twenty weeks pregnant throws a spanner in the works. It’s easy to create life, but raising the child, keeping them safe, is a very fucking different story.
Very few men are cut out to be fathers. Sometimes, you have to find the strength and run away, putting your children first…
I head downstairs, taking one step at a time, careful not to make too much noise. The wood threatens to creak with each step I take. By the time I make it into the kitchen, I exhale the biggest sigh of relief.
But now I have the challenge of opening the front door without it creaking…
After making sure the coast is clear, I tiptoe through the corridor. Shadows curl along the skirting board, growing closer I pass through the middle section.
My throat closes up the more I hold my breath, refusing to breathe just in case Emil can sense that.
I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s observant.
I hate that about him. People in the city are indistinguishable but at least they go about their day, only looking once, not twice, and never for too long.
I curl my hand around the doorknob, preparing to open the door, when something grabs my attention. A security camera has been fixed into the ceiling.
Unbelievable.
A shiver runs down to the base of my spine. How can I be sure I was living here out of my own free will? Security cameras are meant to be installed outside of the property, on the lookout for people breaking in. And yet these cameras look like they’ve been planted to catch anyone breaking out.
Fuck this. I twist the doorknob in a panic, open the door and fly out the other side, taking off down the driveway. Climbing the gates will be a challenge since they’re rather high, but entering restricted access zones and hauling myself over barbed wire is a typical day at work for me.
I slot my foot through the gap in the metal gates and use what little upper body strength I have to heave myself up.
Being five months pregnant comes with some disadvantages.
Thankfully, I have enough adrenaline to pull off the maneuver and land with both feet on the ground after a slightly terrifying jump down from the top.
Dusting off my hands, I ensure the coast is clear and begin running down the road.
However… Now the real challenge starts—finding a way out of here in the middle of the forest that will lead me back to Seattle.