Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 56576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Goodnight, Dove,” I say.
“Night,” she whispers back.
It isn’t long before she falls asleep, her soft snores filling the quiet room. However, like all the nights of my life, I can’t sleep and instead stare at her, watching as she finds blissful sleep.
17
The days start to blend together. Time isn’t a variable when there is no clock or sunlight. Each day the walls seem to close in on me a little bit more. Sleeping, reading, and eating are what my life consists of now. At least Max isn’t bothered by the isolation. He’s still his purring self. I, on the other hand, have cabin fever.
I do my best to stay away from Zane, but it’s a lot harder than you think. Shoved into a box, I’m forced to interact with only him, a man that has me completely baffled. Being here makes me feel lonely. There is no sun, no animals, minus Max, and nothing to do. I miss my normal, boring life more and more every day. I miss talking to people, conversation. I’m longing for that human contact you can only get outside these walls. I never realized how important that is to me, the connection to other people.
I’m in a constant battle of trying to stay away from him and trying to seek him out. So far, my brain has won, and I’ve managed to keep my physical urges in check, but I know damn well that that’s not going to last much longer.
Ever since that night in the shower, my body tingles all over whenever our eyes meet. Stupidly, I replay what we did over and over again in my mind. His thick finger entering me, owning me. The way I spiraled out of control. How he held me through the pleasure, finishing right along with me.
Repeating to myself over and over again that he’s the enemy, would be easier if my body felt the same way I did. All this confusion does is give me a never-ending headache.
I still don’t know why I went into the bathroom that day. It was like my mind shut down, and my body took over. I heard the shower running, and I swear I was just going to take a quick peek. Curiosity and all. I thought to myself, it would be only fair to watch him since he watched me for so long. But then I saw him jerking off in the shower, his hand wrapped around his cock. It was mesmerizing. Even after he saw me, I didn’t care. There were blocks of concrete tied to my feet, stopping me from going anywhere.
Stupid. I was stupid for letting him touch me. Stupid for craving his touch. Paging through the book, I pretend to be reading while Max snuggles into my side.
I’ve discovered another layer of the extensiveness that is Zane’s obsession with me. It’s like he knows everything, and I mean everything. It’s not simple things like your favorite color or food. It’s what I’m allergic to, the surgeries I’ve had, my work hours, and therapy schedule.
He knows things that others would never notice. Like when I touch my scar…
I try not to think about the other things he knows… like my time in foster care or that night. I feel a sliver of triumph because no matter how much he knows, he can’t know about that night. He might have read the police report, but he doesn’t know what really happened because I never told a soul.
Every once in a while, he’ll share something about himself, but those moments are far, and few between and none of those things are of great significance. They’re mundane things, like how he loves Italian food but hates Chinese.
I don’t ask him about working with the mob, mostly because I’m afraid of what he’ll tell me. Then again, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea for me to think the worst of him. It would certainly make it easier for me to hate him.
I still haven’t pieced the puzzle together on where I fit into things. I don’t know where and how his obsession with me began. All I know is Zane is determined to keep me here and protect me from whatever evil he feels is lurking in the outside world. Because of his kindness and the feelings he has for me, my hate and fear are becoming harder and harder to maintain.
It’s impossible for me to make myself hate someone who refuses to hurt me. Yes, he’s my captor, but he doesn’t act like it. He treats me like a lover, he’s been waiting for his whole life. Like a rare piece of glass, I’m fragile to him. Beautiful. To be put on a shelf and gazed upon. I’m none of those things though. Or at least I don’t want to be.