I don’t want to look, but I have no fucking self-control.
UNKNOWN: Are you playing with yourself, little mouse? Touching your sweet little pussy to the thought of me handcuffed to your bed?
ME: You’re disgusting.
But that’s exactly what I’ve begun to do. As soon as I read the words, it was like he possessed my body to do exactly what he was asking. My hand snaked down into my panties, my finger gently swiping at my engorged clit. Even as I wrote back my scathing reply.
I’m wearing nothing but a long t-shirt and comfortable underwear.
I feel bare and exposed beneath the thin cotton. When my legs begin to fall apart, I rip my hand out like I touched a burning stove, hissing at my own stupidity.
UNKNOWN: And you’re a liar.
ME: Fuck. Off.
UNKNOWN: Next time you tell me to fuck off, your clit is going between my teeth.
My bottom lip goes between mine. I suck my lip in sharply, shocked by his nerve. By the pure audacity this man possesses. Yet just as turned on.
I squeeze my hand around the phone, hating myself more and more as this conversation progresses.
My fingers twitch with the need to tell him to fuck off again. The asshole probably doesn’t even know how oppositional I am.
Tell me not to do something, and I’ll only want to do it more.
And with a threat like that, I’m so fucking tempted. I feel my heart tumble in my chest again, beating against my rib cage as my thumb travels over the letters.
I stare at the two words on my screen, my thumb hovering over the Send button. My shadow has proven to follow through with his threats.
So why do I want to do it so badly? I mean, who instigates their fucking stalker? And to put his mouth on their pussy, no less.
I throw my phone as soon as my thumb skates across the button. The message swoops away, and I know I just did something idiotic.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My head is in my hands again, my fingers clenching my hair tightly until I feel the strands pulling taut, tiny stabs of pain following suit.
Ping.
The racing muscle inside my ribcage bursts free and climbs up my throat.
I can’t look. Abruptly, I stand, restless energy coating my nerves until I’m nearly convulsing. I need to… do something. Distract myself.
Snatching my phone, I hurry down the hall, down the creaky wooden stairs, and into my kitchen.
It’s dark in here. Eerie. But my stubbornness prevents me from turning any lights on.
Ping.
Shakily, I pour two fingers of my grandfather’s whiskey into a glass. And then I hold up the decanter, noting how little is left.
Asshole.
I shoot the alcohol down in one swallow. The taste is smoky, with a hint of citrus. It burns on the way down, turning the insides of my body into an inferno.
As if I wasn’t already burning up.
After I pour myself another two fingers and swallow that down, I work up the courage to look at my phone.
UNKNOWN: Oh, little mouse.
UNKNOWN: I can’t wait to eat you. There will be nothing left of you once I’m done.
Goddammit.
Shivers wrack through my body, and I drop the phone. It clatters loudly against the island, disturbing the stilted air.
“God? Why do you fucking hate me?” I ask aloud, my voice ringing out into empty air.
Of course, she doesn’t answer me. She never does. I’m not even talking to God. I’m talking to myself and the ghosts inside this house.
Not even they will answer me.
Fuck it. I’m going to bed.
I storm up the stairs, turn off the T.V., and slip back into my bed, connecting my phone to the charger, and then toss the blanket over my head.
Under here, the monsters can’t get me. I’m safe. Untouchable.
I ignore the throbbing between my legs and close my eyes, willing myself to sleep.
And despite the sporadic thoughts floating around in my head, I manage to drift off into a restless sleep. I toss and turn, the blanket keeping my body too warm, but my subconscious won’t allow the blanket to go past my eyes.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I feel rough flesh skate across my arms. My subconscious slowly starts to drift away from my dreams, but it feels like I’m weighed under a heavy fog.
Something rough glides around one wrist, jolting me further into consciousness. When I feel the rough texture tighten around my other wrist, I finally start to slip back into reality. My surroundings rush in, and even in my half-asleep state, I know something is wrong.
My face feels tight, and my body is exposed.
I feel the blanket drift past my breasts, down my stomach, and past my hips. When the cool air settles, tightening my nipples into sharp buds, I jerk awake.
My eyes open wide, and my breath lodges in my throat when I see a dark figure settled between my legs. Immediately, I panic. My heart races and my adrenaline surges.
I go to scream, but something constricts my mouth. My eyes round when I realize my mouth is taped shut.
Several realizations hit all at once. My arms are above me, tied to the headboard with thick ropes. I tug against the binds, desperately trying to slide my wrists out of the loops to no avail.
I struggle hard, but my body can only move so much. Thick thighs trap me into a firm hold as my stalker props himself above me, his face concealed by the shadows.
I continue to fight against the rope but only succeed in rubbing my skin raw.
“What did I tell you, little mouse?” he asks, his deep voice barely above a whisper. I don’t even spare him a glance, my panicked gaze glued to the ropes that are rendering me completely fucking helpless.
Fuck what he told me.
“Let me go!” I shout beneath the tape, but the words are muffled and indistinguishable.
He plants his hands on my hips and roughly pins me to the bed. Electric shocks travel from his skin to mine, the feeling making me tremble beneath his calloused hands.
Panic sends my mind into a complete tailspin. I no longer think rationally. My body goes into survival mode, and I fight against his hold with all the strength I can muster.
But it’s useless. He’s too big. Too heavy. Too fucking imposing.
I scream with frustration, attempting to buck him off. He laughs at my attempt, the rich sound of his amusement sending ice down my spine.
I still, huffing and puffing against the tape. My hair is in disarray, with several tendrils scattered across my face and constricting my view of him.
Not that I particularly want to see his face anyways. It’s a goddamn weapon.
Gently, he brushes the tendrils out of my face, tenderness in his touch.
“Fascinating that you have yet to learn, I always follow through with my threats,” he whispers.
“Fuck. Off!” I shout, enunciating my words as clearly as possible beneath the tape. They’re muffled, but he heard what I said loud and clear anyway.
He grabs my face in his hand roughly and brings his face down into mine. Minty breath and a hint of smoke washes over me.
“Keep pissing me off, Adeline. I do enjoy hurting you. It’s music to my ears when I hear you cry.”