“What’s worth it?” I ask as Jesse swims up to me. I wrap my legs around his waist and drape my arms across his shoulders as soon as he’s within reach. He treads water, holding us both up as he smirks at me.
“Every dish I’m going to end up doing for Cason is worth being last so I could watch you strip down to this swimsuit.” Jesse says this as he brings his mouth to my shoulder, slowly kissing me along the strap leading up to the back of my neck.
“You know what is better than this swimsuit?” I ask him as a grin. Two can play this game.
“What’s that?” he says with a smirk.
I reach behind my neck and pull the string out of the knot that is holding my top in place. I feel it loosen and slip apart, and my swimsuit falls. Jesse is momentarily stunned, his eyes on my suit floating on the top of the water. “No swimsuit at all.”
Jesse’s mouth is on mine before I can finish the words. And then on my chin, throat, shoulder. His mouth eventually finds my taught nipple. I tip my head back and moan his name. “Jesse . . .”
“Jesse . . .” I mumble as I open my eyes.
The pounding in my head is so intense I’m sure my skull is going to split open in the very next second. I lift my hand to bring it to my face but a heavy cold metal wrapped around my wrist stops me. I turn my head to see what is holding me back. My tiny reflection bounces off the metal handcuff engulfing my wrist. I blink a few times to focus. It’s then I realize I’m not laying on the usual hard surface I’ve grown accustomed to in the basement. Instead, it’s soft and fluffy, and actually quite comfortable. I focus my eyes again on the cuff and find the other end attached to an iron rod screwed into a wall next to a wooden headboard. I use my other hand, which is fortunately not attached to the wall, to check my head. The hair on the side of my head is matted together with what I’m sure is blood. My stomach churns at the thought of more blood loss. I feel around until I hit a spot that hurts so badly it sends a shock through me that has me wincing. When I pull my hand back, there’s fresh blood on my fingers.
I drop my hand back down and just focus on my breathing. I breathe through the pain, the nausea, and this situation. I don’t want to lose myself because of him again, but I’m slipping. I can feel it in my soul. I’m tired of living this life.
I push with my free hand to sit up a bit and a cold pain rolls up my leg, leaving me biting back a scream I so desperately want to release. I lean against the headboard in surrender. I focus my mind to my toes and try to wiggle them. I need to know if its broken. I wiggle my toes without much effort. Next is my ankle. I stretch my foot out and the pain immediately appears again, shooting up my leg. I figure I probably sprained it on my way down the stairs. If that’s all that happened, then I’m lucky.
I take in my surroundings and really look at my new room. I’m upstairs now—that, I know for sure. The light is peeking through the blinds. I assume I’m in a spare bedroom. The walls are finished, and I’m in a bed covered with white sheets. There’s a small dresser in the corner big enough to hold a child’s wardrobe and a small night table next to the bed.
He didn’t put me back in the basement. Why didn’t he put me back in the basement?
I lean over to try to peek through the slits of the white blinds on the window, but I end up gasping from the shooting pain. I’m not able to see through them from the bed anyway. Straining to try is not worth the extra pain I cause myself.
The rattle of the doorknob turning gains my attention, and the door slowly creaks open as Marcus comes in. He enters, balancing two small cups in his hand.
“You’re awake. Good.” He stands nearby but not close enough I can reach for him. I remain silent as I stare at him. My voice, my words, feel broken.
“You took quite a fall,” he says calmly, like it was an accident. Like he wasn’t the one who pushed me down the stairs.
He brings the two cups to the bedside table. One is filled with water, and the other looks empty. “I thought you might need something for the pain.”
He brings his hand up to my hair, and I flinch away, pulling on the handcuffs to get as far away from him as possible. I can’t handle his touch, not after the beating I’ve just suffered because of him. His eyes catch a glimmer of light reflecting off of the cuffs.
“Oh, yes. Those. Well, they are necessary to keep you from having another . . . mishap again.” He shrugs his shoulders as he stands. “I’m sure you’ll be better behaved from here on out, won’t you?”
My hatred for this man fuels me as I find my voice and yell, “I’ll never be with you again. I will never love you like I love him!”
His hand moves so fast the sting doesn’t appear for a few seconds after the crack sounds off as his hand meets my cheek. My head whips to the side, and I clench my eyes shut. The pain bounces through my skull,
