We watch the show quietly. His arm, which leans on the back of the couch, reaches down to stroke my arm. I feel him getting closer and closer to my breast, so I turn my body into him. He smiles warmly down at me, kissing the top of my head.
“I’m so relieved. I thought you might not be happy?”
Yeah, no shit, you fucking monster.
“Why?” I reply sweetly.
“It’s been a long time. I thought you were starting to forget about me.” He uses the tone he used to when he would be disappointed in me. It always led to him spanking my ass whilst I begged him to forgive me. Then he’d have me get on my kneesand suck him until he shoved his cock down my throat, coming without giving me time to brace myself.
“I was surprised. I wish you had approached me differently.” I shrug, letting him know that I’m not happier either. “But I understand. We were always going to make our way back to each other. But things need to be different this time.” He frowns, not liking that comment, but he allows me to continue. “You want us to be taken seriously, right? You want this to be real. To last forever. You don’t drug someone and take them to your house if you want something long lasting.”
Unless you’re going to murder them, of course.
“So, I propose that we start completely fresh. Look at this like we’re getting to know each other again. That way, I get to know you as you are now, and it means I won’t have any slip-ups and do something you don’t like. And you get to know me too.”
I should have been an actress. My voice barely shakes, only a few wobbles, which only gives the impression that the thought of us together again makes me so emotional.
But his face shifts so quickly, I barely have time to react. Sneering, he pinches my face harshly. “I know everything there is to know about you, Mia. Don’t you forget that. I’m the one that takes care of you. Not the other way around. I make the rules and you follow them, because I know best. Understood?”
I nod, praying he’ll relent on his grip, but he spins my face, his thumb and fingertips bruising my cheeks. He leans in, taking one long, languorous lick up the side of my face. I cringe, desperately fighting the urge to wipe the saliva off my face.
He lets go of my face, settles into the couch and turns the volume up on the TV. His hand grips my body so tightly against him, I know it’s going to feel his touch for days.
We watch silently for a while as Dianne and Dennis discuss an upcoming cooking segment. I keep the tears that are threatening to fall at bay by biting down on my lip and breathingcalmly through my nose. It’ll only be worse if I cry and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. I can figure this out. I can get out of here.
My thoughts are whirring again, desperately trying to complete a timeline of events. Was the show the reason Carter found out about me being here? Or was he already a patient by that point? I can’t remember; my brain is foggy with too many thoughts. I need to write something down. I need to get the thoughts out of me so I can make sense of them.
“And upcoming, as usual, we have our very own Dr. Angel—Alfie Adams—coming in with a special segment today,” Rick booms. “We’ll be right back after this commercial break.”
Relaxing my shoulders, I sigh, nuzzling into Carter’s chest. I rest my hand on his stomach, and I feel him suck it in. He must be mid-forties now. Time hasn’t been bad for him. The salt-and-pepper hair gives him an element of maturity to his face, but he’s let himself go. Or maybe it’s just the age. He’s softer now. What used to be hard plains of muscles and a sharp jawline, something the other girls and some boys in my school used to comment on. He was the good-looking teacher. The one that everyone had a crush on. But now, he wasn’t a god. He wasn’t even the man that I thought he would be. He was just close to middle-aged, still trying to hold onto his youth where he felt in control and needed.
As the commercials flick through, he tenses more and more. Shifting himself so he can watch my reaction, I desperately try to keep my psychologist poker face on. But as soon as Alfie fills the screen, I know I’m done for.
He’s weathered. Big gray bags sit beneath his haunted brown eyes. His hair is stiff, like he’s been pushing it back away from his eyes one too many times. It’s clear he hasn’t let them put makeup on him, his skin is almost gray under the harsh studio lights.
He sits bent over, his elbows on his knees, his hands in a prayer position as if speaking to God and not to the daytime television watchers of the Pacific Northwest.
“Alfie, I understand we’re doing something a little different today,” Dennis says gently.
“My girlfriend, Mia, is missing.”
The audience gasps, and so do I. So much for my poker face. He knows. He knows I’m not where I should be. Butterflies erupt in my chest, fluttering madly to the beat of my pulse. Alfie is looking for me. He’s going to find me, I know it.
“To you, the viewers, I need your help—”
He cuts off, the screen going blank. I turn to Carter, I can feel the heat radiating off him and my palms start to sweat. My mouth dries as if all moisture is trying to leave my body. My brain signaling down to my extremities that my body is under attack, you must abandon ship. Carter stands, and I slip onto the couch from where I’d been resting my weight on him.
His body looms over me. Despite his older body, he’s still tall, broad. Terrifying.
“Did you know about this?” he screams, leaning his face into mine as spit sprays from his mouth.
I tighten my fingers into a fist to stop them from trembling. “Of course not. I was as surprised as you are. I’m not even sure why he’d call me his girlfriend. We’re not even together.”
“Don’t lie to me!” he screeches, pushing his pointed forefinger into my face.
“We broke up, I promise. It was last week that I ended it. It was never the same. Not like…not like with you. I kept comparing him to you. It was pointless. He was never going to live up to the standard you set. He didn’t want to take care of me the way you do. The way Ineed.”
My blood whooshes in my ears and I unsteadily lift myself from the couch. I tell my racing heart that I’m not going tocrumble. I might be stammering and shaking but I’ve studied men like this, I know how to handle this situation calmly. Don’t react. Don’t give him anything that might escalate it more than it already has. I meet his gaze as his labored huffs settle into regulated breathing. Resting my head against his chest, I wrap my arms around him breathing in a scent of sweat and cheap laundry detergent. My ear pressed against his heart, I feel him calming, his fingers stroking down my hair as he grips me tightly.
