Page 2 of Demise

Fuck, I can’t think like that.

“Thank you,” I say quickly. “My love-e.”

I cringe at the stiffness in my tone, knowing I have to do better than that.

“It’s too much trouble. I wish you didn’t have to go through it all for me,” I say as I stare up at him.

I hadn’t noticed him all that much before. Sure, I saw him in class every day, but from a distance. Not so close that I can count every single smile line. Not so close that I can see the practically colorless brown that fills his eyes, accompanied by his extremely receding salt and pepper hair.

He smiles down at me sweetly, or at least I think it’s supposed to be sweet. Instead, it makes my stomach roil.

“It was no trouble at all, nothing but the best for you.”

I do my best to muster an adoring smile as I nod.

“I appreciate it more than you know. How…how did we get here, so quickly, that is?” I ask, fishing for any and every bit of information I can gather.

“It wasn’t all that quick. I may have overestimated the dosage for the packet of apple cider,” he says with a frown.

“Apple cider?” I ask, my mind trying to follow the last memory I had.

The drink Wesley gave me in the kitchen, right before everything went black.

“You drugged the cider packet?” I ask.

“Well, my options were quite limited, and I know what a weakness you have for the stuff,” he smiles, like it’s an endearing thing. “Don’t be mad, my love. I did it for us, for your safety.”

“I-I know,” I say, giving him a shaky smile. “Thank you for coming for me. Did you…take care of the guys?”

In a split second, his demeanor shifts. His posture becomes rigid, his hold on me practically punishing.

“No, not yet. My first priority was getting you out of there and home where you belong. I’ll take care of them soon, though. Don’t worry.”

Fear pangs inside me as I give him a watery smile.

“T-thank you.”

He nods and presses another slobbery kiss to my face before walking us deeper through the ‘house.’

“You’re probably still tired, aren’t you?”

“Very. Would you mind if I rested for a little?” I ask.

“Not at all, my love,” he says as he walks into a bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

He sets me on the edge of the bed before placing down the duffle bag that was also in his arms. My legs and hands are still bound, and he bends down and begins untying them. Relief fills me, a perfect opportunity practically being laid at my feet once I feel the rope loosen. Though as quick as that hope came, it fades when his hands reach for the waistline of my leggings as he begins dragging the material down my legs.

I pinch my thighs together, attempting to scoot away from him.

“What are you doing?”

His eyes flick up to me in irritation; the former adoring look long forgotten.

“You reek of them. You need a bath.”

I pull away from his grasp, doing my best to keep my tone even.

“If you just undo my hands, I can get undressed. I’m kind of shy,” I say with a weak smile.

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