Chapter 17 #2
He rummages in the makeup bag until he’s found a small bottle of micellar water. He squirts some on a cotton pad.
“Close your eyes.”
I do as he tells me, and startle at the touch of the cold wetness under my eyes.
The cotton slides over my cheeks, and though my eyes are still shut, I can imagine it removing every trace of makeup, revealing the sallow skin beneath.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, his voice hot against my neck.
I suck in some air and realize I’ve been holding in my breath. I sag backwards but his firm hand around my waist keeps me from falling.
“Still afraid of me, aren’t you?” he growls, removing the last of my makeup and throwing away the cotton pad.
I don’t answer, but he doesn’t seem to expect me to. He threads his fingers through my bushy hair and I melt under his touch.
“No more makeup, no more brushing out those pretty curls,” he says, his voice firm. Then he lifts me once more in his arms and brings me back to my room. He sets me down and my throat constricts when he walks back to the door.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please don’t go.”
He pauses at the door then turns back. “I have to work, pet.”
“Stay with me,” I plead.
Sighing, he walks back and sits down beside me. He looks at me quietly, and I detect that soft note in his eyes that’s more dangerous than the darkest gleam.
Because it tricks me into thinking he cares.
“You must be very bored,” he muses, absent-mindedly slipping a lock of hair behind my ear. “I’m glad you don’t watch TV. That drivel will make your mind go soft. But I see I need to give you something to do. I think I have a few old DVDs lying around somewhere. How would you like that?”
I stay quiet, unable to voice what I really want. For once, he doesn’t seem to understand my silence.
“Guess you don’t know what a DVD is,” he chuckles. “You can’t be much older than nineteen or twenty.”
“I’m nineteen,” I mumble. “And you?” I add, my voice a little hard as I try to work up the courage to question him.
But he doesn’t notice.
“Thirty-seven. How about books? Though there are already lots of them on the shelves. But you’ve never read any of them.”
I shrug.
“I know how it is,” he adds after a beat of silence. “I’m from Oakley, too, remember? Bet you’ve never read a book in your life.”
“I have,” I answer defensively. “I’ve read two.”
He barks out a laugh, and I squeeze my hands into fists. He’s laughing at me. I don’t know why, but he’s laughing at me, and I hate it.
Angry tears prick at my eyes. He drags me onto his lap, his warm arms embracing me, but I don’t allow myself to relax into him the way I usually do. I stay tense, and he chuckles again.
“You’re really throwing me for a loop today. Do I need to take a belt to you and make you behave?”
Humiliation makes my throat constrict. I stare down at my hands.
“Look at me,” he says, and his voice has lost its warmth. He takes hold of my cheeks, squeezing them in a vicelike grip, and forces my head up. “What’s wrong?”
I stay silent.
“Did something happen?” he questions, his voice severe.
His face blurs behind the veil of tears gathering in my eyes. He notices and lets me go, then strokes my cheek soothingly. My head falls back against his chest, and this time, I can’t help it. I find myself relaxing without meaning to.
I had a bad night, what little sleep I managed to get punctuated by bad dreams. I’m exhausted, and his fingers threading through my hair make my eyelids droop.
“Everything’s alright, little pet,” he murmurs. “Take a deep breath.”
My gaze drifts up toward the ceiling. The ceiling in this room is plain white, like the stretch of wall in the living room. Not humid, not stained, like my childhood one. Old images burn my eyes.
His arm is heavy, a crushing deadweight on my stomach. The spot on the ceiling is a polar bear, a great big furry one with massive paws. If I close my eyes, I can feel its heat against me, its fur like a thick blanket surrounding me, protecting me from the world.
You never know when the Beast will wake. That’s what Mama always tells me. Keep quiet, don’t move. Make yourself invisible.
But I don’t want to be invisible. I want to fly away, just like Wendy, and have a boy like Peter to protect me against the Beast.
“Seraphina. Seraphina!”
The name startles me awake. I look up and see Damien’s face looming over me. This time there’s no mistaking the concern in his eyes. And he just called me by my name.
“You fell asleep. You were having a nightmare. What were you dreaming of?”
His words float to me from far away. “Peter,” I answer.
“Peter?” His voice is harsh, cold. “Who’s Peter?”
“Peter… Pan.”
The tear that had threatened to fall before winds its way down my cheek.
He squeezes me to him, exhaling deeply, and when he speaks next, his tone is soft, kind even.
“Peter Pan. Is that one of the two books you’ve read?” There’s a glint of humor in his voice, but I don’t mind it so much now.
I nod.
“What’s the other one?”
“An… an animal encyclopedia.”
“An animal encyclopedia,” he echoes, more amused than ever. “Do you like animals?”
I bury my face in his chest, seeking his soothing warmth. “I like jellyfish. And polar bears.”
He takes hold of my chin, gently this time, and lifts my face to him. “You’re a very odd girl, do you know that, Seraphina?”
But he’s not making fun of me anymore. His expression is tender, and it awakens an ache in my heart.
He holds me to him silently. I sink into his embrace, willing it never to end. His hand is stroking my hair absentmindedly, and I find myself drifting off once more. But he pulls me away from him before I fall asleep.
“You’re very tired today, my pet. Didn’t you sleep?”
“Don’t you know?” The words burst out of me before I can stop them. The intrusive thoughts are back.
He stares at me in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You haven’t been watching me on the cameras?”
“They were down until this morning,” he says, stroking my hair again. “I just had them fixed.”
Relief floods me. I try to return to his chest, but he keeps me at arm’s length, studying me.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” I murmur.
He keeps his eyes trained on me for a while longer, as though he plans to insist. But instead he sighs, and I suddenly notice he looks just as exhausted as I feel.
Then he draws me to him for a soft kiss.
“I have to go to work, my pet. I have a lot of work this week.” He pauses, his voice almost sounding regretful. “I think I can come back to see you Friday.”
Friday. That’s three days from now. Three whole days without him. The thought makes my heart constrict, even as I hate myself for being so needy.
“Maybe I can fix it so we can have dinner together,” he adds. “Would you like that?”
I breathe in sharply. No one’s ever wanted to have dinner with me before. I look up at him, my body humming with excitement.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Yes, please.”
He smiles, kisses me again, and leaves.