anything about a willing companion.
She’s not willing, War.
I’ll convince her though. I’m sure of it.
Can I convince her?
My purchasing of this girl, illegal or not, has shone a glimmer of light into the darkness which is my world. One tiny ray of hope. And I cling to it desperately.
She’s my hope.
I absolutely must convince her to stay.
I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose. The pain is becoming unbearable. With a huff, I bore my gaze right through her. If I could crack open this fucking skull of mine, I would. Then, she could peer into the nasty shit that is my head. She could see the black, molded parts of who I am. The disease of my mind would be evident as it crawls through my blood.
“I’m scared to stay with you.” Her black-gloved fingers grab onto the respirator and she tugs it down to her neck.
For once, I’m not overwhelmed by fear. My brain isn’t exploding with a million rampant what-ifs. This time, it stills.
Her pink, pouty lips are parted revealing pearly white teeth. She has a pert nose that flares with each frantic breath she takes. And her high cheekbones are streaked with tears, a trail of mascara in their wake.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“P-P-Put it back on.” My words are a thick sludge in my mouth, refusing to pour out easily. I’m in a battle with myself. Part of me wants to force that respirator back over her perfect lips so her contaminated breaths can stop infecting my air. But an old part of me—a part of myself I remember as a teen—fights.
He wants to pull down my own respirator.
He wants me to lean forward and inhale her.
He wants me to kiss her without a worry of the death her kiss would bring me.
One last look at those lips and I know. This woman will kill me. She’ll steal my heart and chop it to fucking chunks. It’ll be a slaughterhouse of what’s left of the old me.
“Okay,” she says in a wobbly voice through her tears. “I’m sorry.”
I clench my eyes closed but I’ve already memorized her perfect face. Flash, flash, flash. Her image flips over and over again inside my darkened mind, lighting every surface. Inside my head, I’m safe and I can reach for her. I can stroke her pink cheeks and run my thumb over her swollen lips. Inside my head, I can pretend. I can kiss her and touch her.
Popping my eyes back open, I frown as I prepare to tell her the truth. A truth that will make her hate me. A truth that defines my very sickness.
“I’m never going to be able to let you go,” I explain with an apologetic sigh. “Ever. I won’t be capable. And for that, I am truly sorry.”
Her sobs aren’t as pretty as her laugh, but I close my eyes and drink them into my soul anyhow. In my fantasies, I can dream of a better time. One day maybe she’ll laugh with me. Until that time, I’ll dance with her in my head to the melody only she can create.
I’VE BEEN BOUGHT by a lunatic.
A crazy, freaking madman.
This is all Gabe’s fault.
The fire that has begun to flicker inside of me flares to life. When I escape, I will make him pay. I will get the FBI involved if I have to and bring down every asshole associated with that sex ring. Including War.
I’ve long since quit crying but he still hasn’t opened his eyes back up. I would almost think he’s sleeping but I can hear him muttering words, numbers maybe, under his breath. He’s a villain dead set on keeping me trapped away in some tower.
Yet…
My stomach clenches with nausea. He doesn’t seem all that villainous in comparison. Gabe and Edgar are monsters. But War acts like the very air we breathe is noxious and evil. We’ve only dabbled a little in psychology at school, but I’ve learned enough to know something is seriously wrong with him.
He’s sick. Inside of his handsome head.
I say handsome, but I haven’t even seen his face properly. From his position on the bench seat, I can tell he’s tall and firm. His biceps stretch the jacket of his suit to the point if he flexes, it might rip. I glance down at his slacks and quickly admire how they hug his sculpted thighs showcasing his fit frame.
Clearly he’s got a thing with germs. That much is evident. Whether it is