Page 135 of Crimson Tears

I am going to get past this and continue to fight despite the man who started it all.

???

After the call with Dr. K, I went to the other side of the house where we plan for the kids to stay. It was hard to figure out what I wanted to do for them since Boris had thought of pretty much everything. In the end, I was able to come up with a few things.

I went to the store in town and got some fuzzy blankets that always help me feel comfortable and put them on the beds. Then, I got some nicer things for them like perfumes, body lotions, and even some make-up so they can feel a little normal, or even just to have something to play with.

I found some fun games for them too that I stocked the dining area with, and puzzles because now I’m obsessed with them ever since Laney had us over for a puzzle party. I thought it would be weird, but it was actually a great time.

There are teddy bears and stuffed animals for the little ones, and I got some fun dresses in all shapes and sizes as well as a few capes and masks.

Dr. K said that for little ones experiencing trauma, sometimes it helps them to pretend they are someone else, like a princess or prince or superhero. I even grabbed one of those inflatable dinosaur costumes that I am sure Damien will find and use to entertain them and make them laugh.

After putting my purchases away, I ordered a bunch of tablets for each kid to do what they wished. They can use it to contact their families and keep in touch until we can get them home, or have movies playing at night so they don’t feel scared in the dark.

I feel a sense of accomplishment that I haven’t felt in a while as I turn off my computer and stand to stretch. I asked the guys for some space today so I could talk to Dr. K and work on myself. Boris went to see Alexi for lunch, and Cillian said he would be working in his room.

Feeling a little better, I decide to go find him and see if he’s up for some company. Plus, I haven’t gotten to see his room yet, and I want to explore.

Taking the stairs down to the first floor, I pass under an archway that leads to Cillian’s room. Mine is just above his, and Boris’ is by our offices on the other side of the kitchen. I love that we have our own spaces as well as the large main bedroom.

We all agreed that sleeping apart wouldn’t be a thing, so our separate rooms don’t have beds, they’re just set up for us to enjoy our own space. Apparently Cillian read a book that said this was a good idea, and Boris went with it.

Mine has a large seat by the window that overlooks the property and a coffee and tea bar. There’s a large couch that I could swear is made from a cloud in front of a television and a wine fridge. But I don’t know what either of the guys’ spaces look like.

When I get to Cillian’s door, I knock softly, but the door cracks open for me. Peeking my head in, I call out, “Killer?”

We have small bathrooms connected to our spaces, so I step inside to see if that door is shut, but it’s open with the lights off inside.

I’m about to leave to go find him when something catches my eye. His room is set up with dark walls and even darker blinds. There’s what looks to be a drawing table set up by the window that’s framed outside with red rose bushes. He has a couch and a television, but what surprises me most is the table. I’ve never seen him draw before.

Yet, there is a large leather sketchbook lying on top. I can’t help my curiosity. Stepping up to the table, I look at the array of charcoal pencils and erasers covering half the surface. Carefully, I open the notebook.

The first few pages are sketches of flowers, fuchsias to be exact. There are also outlines of a woman’s body in all different positions but with no face. Captivated, I keep turning the pages until I realize I am staring at a picture of myself, crying.

The sketches that follow look like black ink is attacking me, morphing my form into something chaotic. It makes me sad because I remember when my mind felt like that, a storm of rage and sorrow building inside of me for years.

Then, the images begin to morph into me on my knees. They look sexy and well crafted, very detail oriented, especially when it comes to my exposed nipples.

A gasp escapes me when I spot an image of me, tears falling down my face and a cock pushed deep into my throat. My legs press together as heat floods my body. In the next, I have a gag in my mouth as I look up at a man. Tears still fall down my face, but they’re not tears of despair.

My hands are bound behind my back, and my knees spread wide. I can’t help but bite my lip imagining this in real life.

My heart begins to race as I picture Cillian standing above me, shoving his fingers down my throat until I have no choice but to gag. I think about what it would feel like for my eyes to mist over with moisture and lust. It should scare me that he imagines me like this, but it doesn’t. Somehow, I know that even if I’m on my knees for Cillian, he would be the one worshiping me.

Just as I go to shut the book, cool steel is pressed to my throat, a shocking contrast to my hot body. Lips press to the shell of my ear and a deep voice makes my legs tremble.

“What are you doing in here, Love?”

He sounds smug, catching me snooping, but I’m not afraid of him.

“Clearly, I was looking for you,Killer,” I emphasize his nickname and press into the knife at my neck, making him relax his tension on the blade.

“Careful, this is obsidian. Don’t want to cut open that pretty neck of yours.”

“You won’t hurt me. You don’t have the guts,” I taunt him, knowing he won’t hurt me, not in any way that I wouldn’t wish for at least.

I feel wetness pooling at my center from his touch alone, but the images I saw don’t help either.

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