Chapter Three #2
I fall back onto the pillow, clutching the sides of my head, trying to stop the spinning, trying to keep my stomach where it belongs. I can’t tell if I’m going to pass out or throw up or both. My throat tightens at the thought of choking on my own vomit.
God, what a pathetic way to die.
Hands wrap around my waist.
I jolt, but my body is too slow, too heavy to fight. He lifts me effortlessly, my feet barely brushing the floor as he carries me into the bathroom. He sets me down on the toilet seat with a gentleness that makes my head spin even more.
“Christ, you really don’t have any survival instinct, do you?” His voice fills the room, familiar and low, threading through the fog in my brain.
I try to look up, but my head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. Everything is floating. My limbs, my thoughts, my fear. Then the shower turns on, and a second later ice-cold water crashes over me.
My eyes snap open.
Silver eyes stare back at me from behind a mask.
A strangled sound tears from my throat as I try to scramble away, but his arms lock around me, steady and unyielding.
“Don’t do anything stupid. I’m not here to hurt you, Bunny.” His tone is calm, firm, maddeningly sure of itself.
“You need to get that shit out of your system before your body goes into shock.” He shifts me forward, supporting my weight with one arm. “Can you make yourself sick, or do I need to help you?”
The humiliation burns through the fog. I swallow hard, queasy enough already. “I’ve got it,” I slur, leaning forward as my stomach heaves.
I gag, violently, my whole body shaking.
The cold water keeps pouring over me, soaking my hair, my clothes, my skin.
His hand moves through my wet hair, slow and steady, grounding me.
I can barely hear him over the sound of bourbon hitting tile, but I swear he’s murmuring something soft, something meant to soothe, praise, comfort, approval.
The dizziness finally eases, the nausea fading until I can breathe without feeling the floor tilt beneath me. I lean back against the cold tile, letting it ground me, and look up at him. His hoodie is zipped high, a mask over his face, his posture unreadable.
“Do you realize I’ve seen your face before?” I say. It’s half a lie. I remember flashes, impressions, nothing solid enough to trust.
“You don’t remember it,” he replies, certain in a way that makes my stomach twist. “Trust me.”
I curse myself silently. Why couldn’t I have one of those perfect memories, the kind that stores every detail? Why does everything important blur when I need it most?
“Stop fighting yourself,” he says. “You’ll see all of me when you’re ready. But right now, you aren’t.”
I lean my head back again, still feeling the fog of morphine and whiskey dragging at my limbs. I push myself upright, unsteady, my legs trembling. He moves before I even wobble, offering his hand. I take it without thinking, and the moment I’m on my feet I pull away, hands raised defensively.
“Leave,” I whisper. It’s weak, half-hearted, and my body betrays me by not stepping back.
He crosses the room in a few strides. I don’t even see the moment he moves one second he’s across from me, the next he’s close enough that the air shifts.
My foot catches on the worn runner between the bathroom tile and the bedroom carpet.
I stumble, and his arms are around me again, steadying me before I hit the floor.
His warmth seeps into my cold skin, his presence overwhelming.
I freeze.
He guides me into the bedroom, grabbing a towel on the way. “You need to get out of those wet clothes. Can you stand, or do I need to dress you like a child?” His tone is dry, almost teasing, but there’s an edge beneath it.
“I can dress myself,” I snap. “Turn around.”
He shrugs and turns his back to me.
I rummage through my drawers, pulling out old shorts and an oversized T-shirt that feels familiar in a way I can’t explain.
I keep my eyes locked on his back the entire time.
The wet clothes hit the floor with a heavy slap, and even though he can’t see me, something in his posture tightens.
His shoulders go rigid, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
He doesn’t turn until I sit on the edge of the bed.
When he finally faces me, I ask the question that’s been clawing at my throat since the moment he stepped into my life.
“Why me?”
He sits in the armchair beside the bed, the movement smooth, practiced, as though he’s done this before. As though he’s sat in this exact spot, watching me sleep.
“Honestly,” he says, “I don’t know. But from the second I saw you, I knew it couldn’t be anyone else.”
My breath catches.
“So guarded. So tired. So convinced you’re alone.” His voice lowers, not soft, but certain. “You carry fear like it’s Armour. And you think no one sees it.”
I shrink in on myself without meaning to.
He notices.
“It isn’t weakness,” he says. “It’s the thing that drew me in.
The exquisite fear that comes off of you in waves, its fucking intoxicating, you drive me crazy, and not just in the way that I want to rip your clothes off and show you how you should have been treated all along, in a way that every time I close my eyes I see you, when that asshole cornered you at the bar, the fear in your eyes, the defiance when you called me an asshole, the look on your face when you saw me in here before, the silent thankfulness in my presence, the moment you realized I wasn’t here to hurt you Bunny. ”
He leans back in the chair, mask tilted slightly, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.
“You think you’re invisible,” he says quietly. “But I saw you.”
I stare at him, fear still deep rooted in my gut, this man is capable killing me with his bare hands, he could snap my neck with a flick of his wrist, but he doesn’t, he hasn’t laid a finger on me in any way that could hurt.
Even when I was out of control, unable to fight back he didn’t take anything, he still gave me the option.
What the fuck is happening to me?
I should run, scream, hide, but I don’t want to.
I don’t realize when sleep claims me, only the feeling of my eyelids slowly opening hours later, the sun setting in the distance, painting the sky in hues of oranges and reds, I shift to sit up, a solid object pressing into my back, something very human shaped.
I turn to face him, his hood is still up, his mask still firmly in place on his face, his light breathing is the only sound coming from him.
Slowly, my hand moves towards his face, shaking, unsure, my fingers skim the edge of the mask, before I can move to lift it a hand wraps around my wrist, not quite painful, a warning.
“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, I strongly advise against it.” His voice is sleepy, but the danger is still present.
My hand snaps back to my side, my eyes wide “I…”
He sits upright, stretching out enough for his hoodie to ride up revealing the deep set V-line at his hips, I find my gaze wandering far too low.
“Naughty little thing aren’t you Bunny…” He coos, moving closer, invading my personal space, I clear my throat and look up into his eyes once again.
“Are you thinking of what I look like beneath the mask? Whether your instincts are right and my looks are as devastating as your mind is telling you?” he continues, his eyes roaming my body, gaze unfiltered, hungry, raw.
He pulls me closer by the waist, his grip tight, but not enough to hurt.
The scent of him floods my senses, my eyes flutter closed for a moment.
I shift away, putting some distance between myself and him, my legs shaky as I stand.
“I’m going to go and shower, by the time I get out I need you to be gone.
” My voice is weaker than I anticipated it to be, I start heading towards the bathroom, pausing for a moment, as if I am about to say something else, my head tilting slightly towards him before I continue, the bathroom door shutting with a quiet click.
I flick on the shower, gaze trained on the bathroom door, waiting for it to open, waiting for him to stride through the doors and do something, I slowly remove my clothes letting them fall to the floor, I step under the stream of water, closing my eyes briefly for a moment, letting the hot water wash over me.
A noise outside of the door shakes me from my moment, my eyes snap open, my heart pounds in my ears, but nothing, no further movement.
I pad out of the bathroom, my hair damp and a towel wrapped tightly around my body, my eyes scan the room for him, I don’t see him in my bedroom anymore.
My phone lights up on the nightstand, I notice that he plugged in the charger before he left.
Unknown Contact - Don’t think that’s the last you’re going to see of me Bunny, its only the beginning. You don’t know it yet but you’re already getting used to having me around.
I read the text with a scowl, now that I’m no longer in his commanding presence I can quite comfortably go back to loathing him, I scoff and my thumbs are moving before I can stop them.
Yeah, because everyone needs an obsessive stalker in their life. Seriously get a grip.Those fucking teeth better be gone or I swear to god I’m taking them to the police.
Unknown - Who knows, maybe I’ll send you some more pieces of him.
My skin crawls as I envision gift after gift being left for me, parts of someone that I don’t want to see.
Don’t you fucking dare.
I decide that’s enough of his bullshit to deal with for a day and throw my phone onto my bed, I glance around the room to see if anything is out of place, that’s when I spot it, the case of monster on my dresser, the snacks I enjoy, he placed them there where I would find them, as if to tell me he knows me more than I believed he did.
How long has he been watching me for?
Kade————————
I watch her through the cameras, noticing the treats I left for her, since I started watching her I noticed how little she listens to her bodies needs, often replacing meals with a can of crappy energy drink that can’t be any good for her, snacking lightly on crap that’ll eventually kill her.