Memories of last night flashed through my head. Him coming through the door instead of the window. Chasing me into the woods again. Tying me to the log. Making me come until…
I didn’t really remember anything after that. He’d made me come so many times, it felt like a fever dream. I wasn’t sure what happened after that, but the dried white spots on my stomach and thighs, plus my insanely tender vagina, was more than enough of a hint.
When I looked back at my phone, I realized there was a message.
Unknown:4 attachments
I blew out a breath before opening up the texts, freezing when I found myself staring at—well, myself.
He’d taken four pictures of me. I was in my bed for each of them, eyes closed, naked, sprawled out on my sheets. They were all from a similar angle, getting further away until I noticed the last one was from outside my window.
The pictures proved just how vulnerable I truly was when it came to him. He could’ve done anything with me—killed me if he wanted—but once he’d finished his fun, he took me back home, laid me on my bed, and left.
That meant he couldn’t be that dangerous, right?
My entire body jumped, heart stopping, as a knock sounded on my door.
“Avery? You okay? I haven’t seen or heard from you all day. Your car is in the driveway, so I’m guessing you’re here?” I remained silent, willing Rowen to go away. “If you don’t give me proof of life, I’m coming in.”
Shit!
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
“Okay, good.” He sounded genuinely relieved. “I made dinner if you want any. You don’t have to eatwithme, but I figured you’d be hungry. Unless you’ve got a stocked snack cabinet in there,” he joked.
That was actually a good idea, one I’d have to steal if he planned on staying here much longer.
I didn’t respond, and he eventually walked away.
As much as I hated it, my stomach was on the verge of rumbling, needing fuel after what my body went through last night and somehow sleeping through two meals.
When I went to grab clothes from my dresser, I noticed a gift Michael must have left me.
The vibrator.
It was still covered in me, dried on its surface, a reminder of the person I became when that masked man got his hands on me, how far I’d let him take it, how willing I was to please him.
When I got to the kitchen, Rowen was sitting on the couch, watching TV.
“It's on the stove.”
I grabbed a plate and filled it with the pasta he’d made. It had tomatoes and bits of chicken in it. I had no idea what it was, but it smelled delicious. I took a bite and nearly moaned, but I filled my plate with another scoop instead of embarrassing myself.
Rowen was still glued to the television when I left the kitchen, but he turned when I reached the area between the hall and the living room.
We stayed like that for a moment, looking at each other. Rowen leaned forward, like he was holding his breath, waiting for my next move. Part of me thought about sitting on the other end of the couch, calling a brief truce, just to see how it would go, but the anger I’d built up over the years refused to let me move. I was cemented to the floor, unable to take the step forward, unable to let go.
So, I turned away and walked to my room instead.
***
Michael didn’t come that night.
And I only got two hours of sleep.
It was inevitable I would be cranky that morning, and only one person was around to suffer my bad mood.
“Breakfast?” he asked cheerfully when I stomped into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee machine.
