can’t move. I can’t think. My body is a trembling leaf that can’t manage to stop moving in a wind that isn’t there. Nothing is there. No air is there. The limo just got so small. I’m crying again. It’s silent only inside my head—in reality it’s loud, heaving sobs filling the cramped space between us.
“Please… Please… ” It’s the only word I can manage to get out.
“Come. Here.” Impatience clips his voice.
I force myself off the opposing seat and over to him. He cuddles me in his arms, stroking my hair, kissing my wet cheek with lips that just caused another woman’s death.
“My sweet, Juliette,” he says. “No matter what happens between us, let there never be any doubt that you are special to me.”
I want to scream at him or ask about his gourmet preference. That woman most certainly wasn’t eating organic. But I don’t. I just close my eyes and lie against his chest as he continues to stroke my hair. I’m a swirling mixture of terrified and comforted, both emotions caused by the same man within the span of a few minutes.
We get back to the warehouse, get back in the Mercedes, and drive home, arriving indoors only minutes before sunrise. As he locks me in my room for the day, alone with my thoughts and myriad memories of the night, I’m no longer jealous of Nadine.
***
I’ve been pacing in my room for an hour. Christian is down the hall in the dark, windowless room with the big fireplace. Sleeping. I don’t understand how he can take a life so cruelly and think nothing of it, then come home to sleep like a baby. I feel like I live with a mountain lion with no safe fence existing between me and the predator.
On the way home he said she had no life to begin with. She was dead already, walking the streets with nothing but a downward spiral and suffering in front of her. To the vampire’s way of thinking, he did her a favor.
I’m trying to come up with a way to escape this madhouse. I’ve thought about throwing something heavy at the window, but he’d wake up. I know he can’t go out into the sunlight, but I worry I won’t be able to get through the window before he can stop me. And then what? Maybe he’ll do to me what he did to the prostitute a little while ago.
I shudder and shut my eyes, trying to block out the images that just won’t go away. I’m crying again. Crying, worrying, pacing. Christian can feel my emotions now that he’s fed and I’ve fed from him. My mind is closed to him, but my emotional status isn’t.
I’m trying not to feel too loudly, trying to keep the dread and fear to a sort of even hum like the background noise of an air conditioner. I’m afraid if I get too hysterical, Christian will come in here and punish me.
The window option is out. There’s a window in the bathroom also, but it’s the same kind of situation. I test it just to be sure, but it’s locked. The only other way out of the room is through the door. I rummage through the bathroom drawers for a hair pin, shocked when I find a couple. There is a flicker in the back of my mind that this is meant as a temptation, but I shake it off. Would he know I can pick locks?
I sit in front of the door, staring up at it. It’s sort of old-fashioned, like the house. This doesn’t tell me much. Sometimes modern door locks are easier to pick and sometimes older locks are. It depends on the design and complexity of the lock mechanism.
I go back to the bathroom and rummage through the drawers again, looking for something to tie my hair back. I find an elastic band and pull my hair out of my face. I shudder as the thought goes through me that perhaps he kept the last girl in here. Why else would there be such mundane objects as elastic hair bands and hair pins?
I look around the room, wondering how long ago it was that he had a pet. He said he waited for me, but he still could have had someone while he was waiting, perhaps an appetizer while the main course was simmering. I shake myself
“Please… Please… ” It’s the only word I can manage to get out.
“Come. Here.” Impatience clips his voice.
I force myself off the opposing seat and over to him. He cuddles me in his arms, stroking my hair, kissing my wet cheek with lips that just caused another woman’s death.
“My sweet, Juliette,” he says. “No matter what happens between us, let there never be any doubt that you are special to me.”
I want to scream at him or ask about his gourmet preference. That woman most certainly wasn’t eating organic. But I don’t. I just close my eyes and lie against his chest as he continues to stroke my hair. I’m a swirling mixture of terrified and comforted, both emotions caused by the same man within the span of a few minutes.
We get back to the warehouse, get back in the Mercedes, and drive home, arriving indoors only minutes before sunrise. As he locks me in my room for the day, alone with my thoughts and myriad memories of the night, I’m no longer jealous of Nadine.
***
I’ve been pacing in my room for an hour. Christian is down the hall in the dark, windowless room with the big fireplace. Sleeping. I don’t understand how he can take a life so cruelly and think nothing of it, then come home to sleep like a baby. I feel like I live with a mountain lion with no safe fence existing between me and the predator.
On the way home he said she had no life to begin with. She was dead already, walking the streets with nothing but a downward spiral and suffering in front of her. To the vampire’s way of thinking, he did her a favor.
I’m trying to come up with a way to escape this madhouse. I’ve thought about throwing something heavy at the window, but he’d wake up. I know he can’t go out into the sunlight, but I worry I won’t be able to get through the window before he can stop me. And then what? Maybe he’ll do to me what he did to the prostitute a little while ago.
I shudder and shut my eyes, trying to block out the images that just won’t go away. I’m crying again. Crying, worrying, pacing. Christian can feel my emotions now that he’s fed and I’ve fed from him. My mind is closed to him, but my emotional status isn’t.
I’m trying not to feel too loudly, trying to keep the dread and fear to a sort of even hum like the background noise of an air conditioner. I’m afraid if I get too hysterical, Christian will come in here and punish me.
The window option is out. There’s a window in the bathroom also, but it’s the same kind of situation. I test it just to be sure, but it’s locked. The only other way out of the room is through the door. I rummage through the bathroom drawers for a hair pin, shocked when I find a couple. There is a flicker in the back of my mind that this is meant as a temptation, but I shake it off. Would he know I can pick locks?
I sit in front of the door, staring up at it. It’s sort of old-fashioned, like the house. This doesn’t tell me much. Sometimes modern door locks are easier to pick and sometimes older locks are. It depends on the design and complexity of the lock mechanism.
I go back to the bathroom and rummage through the drawers again, looking for something to tie my hair back. I find an elastic band and pull my hair out of my face. I shudder as the thought goes through me that perhaps he kept the last girl in here. Why else would there be such mundane objects as elastic hair bands and hair pins?
I look around the room, wondering how long ago it was that he had a pet. He said he waited for me, but he still could have had someone while he was waiting, perhaps an appetizer while the main course was simmering. I shake myself
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