Chapter 54
Lily
A s much as I liked having them here, it's nice getting back into a routine. Even if it means handling the loads on my own because if they even step foot in my doorway, my body is programmed to pounce on them like an ever-horny freak.
I started the morning with a video call to each of them. Eric and Ryan weren't happy in the least that I'm on my own.
"Look, I made it through the night, and I'm still in one piece," I remarked, though it wasn't easy. On the first night alone in over two weeks, I had found it hard to fall asleep, not only because of the emptiness of my bed but the emptiness of the house. I had forgotten how many noises the floorboards made on their own, and I kept getting up to make sure that no one was in the house.
After a few episodes of driving myself crazy, by the second night, I settled into the realization that I was fine, and the silence was nice. Even having the space in my small bed all to myself again was nice.
Eric and Ryan took a lot of convincing, but they're reassured when Matt and Ethan remind them they're only a phone call away. Besides, we have plans to see each other in the next couple of days once I get a grip on my self-discipline and routine, and Ryan will also be back soon.
The next hour, I spent scrolling through our text messages with each other, looking at the beautiful photos of Hawaii that Ryan sent me, and experiencing serious FOMO, watching footage of Eric and his parents, and missing him deeply, before climbing out of bed and starting my day. Every time I have to do the heavy lifting, I miss the men's brawn, but they're on strict instructions to stay away because they're balls of temptation, and I'm trying to be good.
By the time midday came, the pains I didn't miss returned with full force. I groaned at the idea of taking her on a walk before putting her down for a nap, but I mustered up the strength to do it. It's a short walk, but it's the effort that counts. She got a bit of sunshine and fresh air, and that's all that matters. I'm panting from exhaustion as I push through the front door. They say sex is exercise, so shouldn't it have made me fitter? Instead, the lack of practice from having the guys do these bits for me over the past two months has turned me sluggish.
See, that's another reason why maintaining our independence is important. I've gone from hyper-independent to relying on them for things I used to do without batting an eye. It's not that I don't think this will last, although I still struggle with my inability to accept that good things can happen to me, and the rug won't be pulled out from under my feet just as soon as I get comfortable. But what if something happens to them, or emergencies pull us away from each other, just as it has with Eric? Am I left helpless and on my own?
Doing these things on my own is comforting for me in a way, reassuring me that I'm able, no matter what happens, to carry my own weight and my mother's. Help is nice, but the load is mine to bear. Even as I think that, the guys' voices echo back at me. You could get a nurse.
I could get a nurse. That sounds nice as hell right now, and they're willing to pay. But I don't want to take advantage. Just because they have money, it doesn't mean they have to spend it. Ethan has billions though. Matt too. I still can't fathom having that much money or picture what that sum looks like. All I have is what I know, and I know we can save money if I do this myself. I almost laugh at how ridiculous that sounds, but again, it's not my money. It's just hard for me to consider that because hiring a nurse for my mother's condition is far from cheap. And I'm healthy...
enough. And capable. So, it worked out fine that I'm the one who did it. I couldn't deny how good that help would have been though.
I allowed myself to imagine what my life would look like if I weren't doing this, day in and day out, still fastened to the umbilical cord of my mother. My days wouldn't be filled with fucking. At the rate at which we fucked, without contraceptives? Whew! It wouldn't be long until I popped out babies, and I'd be tangled up in another loop of umbilical cords before I'd be able to live my life. After getting Mom down for her nap and plopping myself into the couch I had scrubbed clean of my father's scent, I painted a mental image of what my life would look like, how I'd spend the day to day, how I'd earn money doing something I loved.
As sleep weighed down my eyelids, there's was knock on my door. A persistent knock. I considered ignoring it until I heard the footsteps scamper down the steps and hit the pavement. An urgency pulled me up from the couch, and I took tentative steps toward the doorway. There weren't security cameras outside the house since they were initially bought as a way for me to keep my eyes on my mother if I had to leave the house. I'm wishing there were now as I gripped my phone, swearing when I couldn't check the footage.
A look through the peephole revealed no one, of course, because they'd run off. With a deep breath, I opened the door with the intention to not leave the security of my house until I saw that it's was just a package left on my doorstep. I let out a relieved breath and bent to pick it up. I hadn't ordered anything. I checked the package for any of the guys' names on my way up, easing the cracks out of my back.
There's was a name I didn't recognize on the box, and I groaned, leaving my doorway to track down the delivery person, but there's was no one up or down the empty streets. On a weekday, I almost expected to see tumbleweed rolling through the streets like the scene of a vacant town in an Old Western movie.
Whoever dropped this package off must have driven away, I concluded, looking at the package in my hand and wondering what I should do with it. Searching the labels for a number I could call was useless. I rubbed my head and rolled my eyes as I considered tossing the package in the trash. Or opening it? Turning around on my heels to go back inside, a familiar face in my doorway stopped me in my tracks.
"What the fuck are you doing here?!" I shouted.
As soon as the words left my mouth, the world grew dark around me, and the ground was pulled out from underneath my feet. Or more aptly, the rug was pulled out from underneath my feet. That metaphorical rug I was talking about earlier? Yup, the time had come. My body hit the hard ground, and I struggled to stand again. The world was spinning, and I had the quick thought that I'm was like a cartoon character with a ring of smoke around my head, moving in circles.
When it became clear that I couldn't come to my feet, and my limbs grew numb, my thoughts dashed to the open door and my vulnerable mother. I'm was torn between wanting the bastard to go inside so that the security cameras would catch him, and Eric, Ethan, Matt, and Ryan would call the police, come to my rescue, anything and imagining my mother alone in her bed, being frightened out of her wits, unable to move. It might be too late by the time the cops arrived. So, no, I didn't want him to go inside. But my consciousness slipped from me before I could tell what happened next.
My head is throbbing. There's a sharp pain shooting up the back of it and when I move my hand to touch it, it's dry and crusty. I reel back in disgust. The air is musty, and I can't tell whether my vision is fucked, or it's just dark as hell. I blink a few times, trying to test it, and wiggle my fingers in front of me to see if I can spot movement. That doesn't help a damn, but at least I'm not dead.
I'm not dead! Whew, I ran my hands over my body to check that everything was still there, and I'm happy to report, I'm all in one piece. But where the fuck am I? Where the fuck did this asshole take me? And my mother? What happened to her? Is she all right? My heart and my lungs collided but like a lightbulb flashing on, I remembered that I had my cell phone on me when I went to collect that package. Damn it, why did I have to pick up that damn package? I know I ain't never seen that damn name in my life, no neighbor that I know of has that damn name, and I've lived at that house a long-ass time. Whether or not I interact with the neighbors, I know who the hell is who. I should've known from the get-go that something was suspicious.
Clever fuck. How did he know to lure me from outside the house? He must have been lying in wait to see if any of my men would follow me and when none of them did, he pounced. Did he have someone with him? I'm sure that one second I was looking straight at him and in the other second, I was out like a light. He was standing a bit of a distance ahead of me too. What the fuck? Well, I hope he didn't see that Ethan and Matt hadn't been there for two whole days. I hope he assumed that they were inside and didn't go in.
Patting my body, I checked my pockets in haste. Where did I put the phone? My brain must have suffered some damage because it took me a solid minute before it dawned on me that if the bastard had a single functioning brain cell or two, he'd have removed the phone the first chance he got.
"Fuck!" I yelled, kicking out against something. My foot connected with what I perceived to be a wall, but it echoed back with kind of a dull ring of sorts. That definitely ain't no wooden wall or even concrete. What the fuck?
Losing my ever-loving shit in hopelessness, I banged on it, kicking it and yelling. "You fucking shriveled-up dick face, dried turd ass fucker! Let me the fuck out!"
I screamed until my throat caught fire, and my head grew dizzy, but to no avail. No one responded. My body gave out again, and I hit the ground.
The shutting of the door woke me up again, and I opened my eyes to see a different person, someone I didn't recognize holding a sandwich in a Ziploc bag, a bottle of water, and a flashlight. I reeled back, huddling away and plastering my back against the wall.
"Who the fuck are you?" I asked, presuming it's the one who hit me over the back of the head.
His lips turned up in a smile made even creepier by the shadow of light across his face. "I heard you got yourself a bunch a rich fellows. I can see why; you're quite the looker when you ain't got your head bashed in."
My blood ran cold. "What the fuck do you want?"
"Ah, don't worry. I ain't gonna touch you." He handed me the food. I eyed it with disgust. "Come on, you gotta eat. Your men ain't gonna pay much for a dead bitch, are they?" He shone the light at my face and head, hissing, "Ooh, sorry about that. Didn't mean to crack your fucking skull or anything. I just wanted to knock you out. We should get that looked at. Wouldn't want maggots to feed on you." He wiggled his fingers around, stuck out his tongue, and widened his eyes in a move that would be goofy and stupid as hell if it weren't for the situation I'd found myself in and that stupid flashlight.
When he moved toward me, my breath left me in a hiss, kind of like a snake. "Don't fucking touch me."
"You want maggots feeding on that gash?" he asked.
No. Of course not. The mental image made me shiver. "What I want is for you to let me go. You doing this for a few measly dollars? You ever think about what would happen if he's just using you and doesn't pay you?"
"Yeah." He nodded. "I'd kill him," he said with such casualness I shivered. "Hey, don't worry. If your men give as much a damn about you as I was led to believe, then you'll be out of here in no time."
"How long have I been here?" My lungs tightened.
He chuckled. "It's just been a night. I bet it feels long as hell in here, doesn't it?" He tsked. "Sucks to be you, really."
I took a deep breath to subdue my anger. "You know if all you wanted was money, all you had to do was ask. Spare you the trouble. In fact, if you let me call them..."
"How dumb do I look, lady?" he asked, his playful energy changing. He shoved the food at me as if I'd bruised his ego, insulting his intelligence so much so that he's angry. "Eat the food, or I'll force feed you," he threatened. "And turn the fuck around and let me stitch that up."
Trembling, I bit into the sandwich, and at that moment, he chose to tell me there's a sedative inside it that'll help me sleep as he stitches up the back of my head. With what? Dirty, infected needles? Unsanitary thread? Would I catch a disease when he's done?
My head spun as I wondered how I managed, after all this time, to end up in yet another traumatic situation when life had been going so damn well. My childhood, fucking Marco, now this? I hadn't sought this out. But I hadn't taken heed to the warnings of my men. They kept insisting that I stay with them, move in with them. My choices had led me here again, and I couldn't help but blame myself again. If I could've rewound the clock, I'd have accepted their offer, or I would've begged them to stay instead of trusting myself to make my own decisions, when it's clear I can't make a fucking decision to save my fucking life.
I fought the sedative, hoping to stay awake long enough to at least see the door when he left, get a glimpse of the outside, see if I could piece together my location. In the pitch black of this place, I couldn't tell where one shadow ended and where the other began. I had tried feeling around for an exit earlier but with my head spinning, everything was like one surface. However, I'm helpless against the drug moving through my body, and by the time I opened my eyes, I'm alone again.
There's a tightness around my head and when I brought my hand to touch it, I found a bandage wrapped around the entirety. It's still pounding, even harder now, and I kind of wished I'd eaten the entire sandwich so that I could sleep through the pain, sleep through the next couple of days. But that would be giving up. And I couldn't let that happen. Not when I don't know whether or not my mother is still alive, not when I have my men out there, unaware of the news they're about to be hit with. I had to do whatever I could to keep my strength up. Push through the pain. I needed to figure out a way to escape.
Continue reading with Lily in Bloom Book 2 – Four Times Saved