Page 61 of Fallen Petal

Chapter 30

Petal

I want to kiss him. I want him to touch me, to take me.

The things we did, the things he showed me, and the things I was allowed to learn about myself thanks to him—just thinking about it kindle a desire within me that is too strong to be ignored.

But it looks like I’m not left with a choice in this matter right now. Despite my obvious flush and my palpable need for him, he doesn’t go in for a kiss. He doesn’t pull me toward him to wrap his strong arms around me and lift me up, detaching the leash to bring me where he wants me.

Instead, he retreats, adding only a quick and gentle yank to the leash around my throat before he retreats.

“Stay here,” he says, already walking away from me. “I’ll be right back.”

I follow him with an anxious expression unfolding on my face, unsure what to make of the fact that he’s leaving me all by myself, with nothing but this leash keeping me in place.

He hurries, running more than he’s walking as he leaves the kitchen out to the hall. I can hear his steps as he flies up the stairs, leaving me to assume that he’s fetching something from the bedroom upstairs.

Or from the dungeon.

My heart jolts with excitement, overshadowing everything else. For a moment, I even forget about the possibility to leave.

I know I could. My eyes trail down to the hook, inspecting the clip at the end of the leash from afar. I would need to unscrew the clasp, which would probably take less than a minute.

Enough time to unhook the leash and get out of here. The doors are probably locked, but I’m sure the windows aren’t.

I could.

But I don’t.

Instead, I take a step back, and then another, creating distance between me and the clasp of the leash that would grant me freedom if I opened it.

I don’t want it. Not now. Just a few days ago, I would have given anything to get away from him, to flee from this prison, no matter how gilded it may appear.

But everything is different now. I still don’t know who I am, but I know why I’m here. I know I decided to be here, and even though I can’t relate to the past version of me who made that decision, I don’t want to betray her either. Fleeing now would ruin all of this.

If the things he said were true.

There’s still a possibility that they weren’t. I’m a blank canvas, void of any understanding about myself, my life, my past. He could tell me anything.

But she couldn’t. The girl in the video shared fragments of the same story he just told me. That video is as much proof as I can hope for.

But the girl who showed it to me disappeared, and he refuses to tell me why that is. It’s obvious that something has changed, that letting me down here and telling me all these things was not purely meant as a gesture to celebrate my birthday.

It was more than that. Something is moving out there, and maybe it took her away from us.

But why won’t he tell me?

Once again, my head is spinning with questions so violently that it almost makes me dizzy. I tear my eyes away from the kitchen and the little hook that keeps me in place, turning back to the table where we just sat together like a normal couple, eating a spaghetti dinner. Normal, except for the fact that I’m butt naked, wearing nothing but a collar that’s chained to the kitchen counter with a long leash.

I meander around the table, the tips of my fingers trailing along the tabletop absentmindedly while I try to calm the turmoil inside my head.

I never really paid much attention to the magazines and newspaper he pushed aside before serving the food, and now, as I stand next to the table, confronted with their headlines, I wonder why.

I throw a quick glance back over my shoulder to make sure he’s still upstairs before I reach for the open newspaper on top. It appears to be a local one, thin and lightweight, with very little to report.

But the headline on the front page catches my eyes right away.

New leads in Bridgewater murder investigation.

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