And I just sit here, feeling an odd emptiness.
Trying to remember how I used to breathe before…
Because suddenly my every molecule feels so terrifyinglydifferent.
It’s hard to be upset about being held captive when your captivity is so… luxurious.
Ridiculous, I know.I was knocked out and kidnapped. I should be screaming and breaking things. Or better yet, searching for a wayout.
There has to be one. If I’ve learned anything about this mansion over the last few months, it’s that there’s much more here than meets the eye.
But I’m not looking. And it’s as confusing as it is justsofrustrating.
I can’t even think about how much my plan has been derailed at this point. I’ve officially driven this thing off the tracks and flipped it four times. Now it’s on fire and I need the jaws of life to rescue me from the wreckage that once was myrevenge fantasy.
The amount of opportunities I’ve had to finish this are piling up, and despite anything else, mostly I just feel stupid.
I could have killed him in Manhattan. I could have killed him any one of the dozens of nights I spent in his home without him knowing. I could have killed him during the storm, probably more than once, and I mostdefinitelycould have killed him theother day, when he was inside my cell for an extended period… with his guardwaydown.
I could have could have could have fucking could have ugh!It’s driving me insane.
Because more than any of the rampant regret, confusion and anger I’ve been cultivating for almost twenty goddamn years, I feel something even stronger right now, just as insistent and impossible to ignore…
I think I… fuckingmisshim.
Dios, strike me down right the hell now.
I deserve to fry.
It’s pathetic, honestly… Wondering where he is, and why he hasn’t come back yet like he said he would. Being…concernedfor him.
Maybe not totally forhim. It’s partially for me. Because—God, I hate myself so much for thinking this—I was looking forward to seeing him again. Getting more of that feeling that comes from just being near him and touching him like I think I always kind of wanted to…
Pathetic isn’t a strong enough word. I’m just pitiful, worthless THOT.
Literally. That hoe over there in the fucking corner, locked in a cage with dick on the brain.
Evil dick, mind you! The evil dick that killed my parents, which I’m now obsessing over like a dumb hoe.
But, I mean… Isn’t the best dick always evil? For real, the dick that fucks you so stupid you forget your own name isalwaysattached to some six-foot-four emotional dumpster fire with a hard body and perfect lips and a voice that you can hear whispering sexy things every time you close your eyes…
“Tell me it feels good, baby… My tongue on your clit. Tell Daddy how you want your pussy licked.”
Honestly. Did I ever even stand a chance??
He’s the serpent, slithering around his garden, offering me a sweet, juicy mouthful.
El Diablo and his masterful temptation.
At this point, I’m just trying to exist without hating myself. Doing everything in my power to ignore the restlessness in me, from being locked up in a cage whilealsocraving another hit of that fuckface like the sick goddamn junkie I am. No matter how nice it is in here, it doesn’t negate the fact that I’m confined and alone with nothing but my horrendous thoughts to keep me company.
Outside of that—and my cage—something is definitely going on around here… Alabaster Isle may be in the midst of an insurrection.
I’m sure that’s what has The Ivory preoccupied. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself while soaking for well over an hour in the giant, luxurious tub in my hidden en suite.
It’s next-level indulgent in here. There’s a fireplace—no, I’m not kidding. Milk and honey and rose hips in the water, fragrant and invading my senses. Sprawling vines all over, and nothing to be heard other than the crackle of the fire and the occasional chirp of birds.
And the gunfire, of course.
