Page 15 of Taking Over the Dark

“Ha, ha, Nash. Very funny.” I roll my eyes and lean my head back on the wall. There’s no way it was Cello.

Why the fuck would it be Cello?

It couldn’t be, right?

“I’m going to let you sit on that… but I didn’t want to die before telling you.” He starts to cough, most likely from his mouth being so dry, and then adds, “I think he meant well and didn’t want this exact thing to happen. Being around him put you at risk… well, that’s what he said at least.”

Closing my eyes, I think about each time I woke up after my stalker would show himself. It became a problem when I moved out of my dad’s house. Then it got worse when I started taking my sleeping medicine here and there; it was almost a guarantee I would wake up, my room a mess, and eventually covered in cum. But I had already put that together…

It can’t be Marcello… right?!

The fancy cars I would see in the distance, but never put two and two together. The notes were in Italian. The scent that lingered in my room when I would walk in after work. Him having all of my skincare and hair care in the shower when I got to his house… like he was waiting for the right time to snatch me up.

Fuck. I don’t have the brain capacity to comprehend this right now.

But why is it sending a thrill through me… that’s the scariest part for me. Was it because my body knew it was Cello and he would keep me safe? Or was it this fucked up head of mine loving that someone was so obsessed with me they would go to extreme lengths to bring my psyche joy. When everyone else forgot about me, or I was just a distant thought to them, Marcello was there.

I always knew he kept up with my family, and Dad always mentioned Cello paying for my mom’s home nurse who would come and help us, but honestly, I thought that was from my dadbeing his long-term employee. Cello would never even talk to me?

He was saving it for when he could have you when you were sleeping, bitch.

If I had any form of hydration in me right now, I know my cunt would be reacting. And it sure as fuck shouldn’t be.

Anytime I try to focus on anything else besides the constant thirst and need for water, my body begs for it causing my brain to short circuit. I’m tired and hungry, but the only thing I want is fucking water in every capacity.

Nash breaks the silence. “Mi Amor, talk to me, please.” He’s so goddamn cute when he’s nervous.

“I’m processing it, Big Boy, or trying to. I am so fucking thirsty.” I groan and finally pull my head off the wall behind me. “I’m sure Marcello had his reasons for stalking me.”

You’re truly delusional.

Nash is gawking at me, not believing what he’s hearing come out of my mouth. I keep telling myself my reaction is only because we’re in a life-or-death situation, but honestly, it doesn’t help my reasoning. This is what happened because I was around Marcello, being seen with him out in public, going to the games with him, and showing that man off like he truly deserves to be. But this is where it got us. Locked away and left for dead.

This is what he was trying to protect me from.

“He did, and does.” He waves his hands out in front of him. “Clearly, he does. Look at where it got us. The cartel was way nicer, by the way.”

“You were also ten, Nash… but I would for sure rather get the shit beat out of me than this. This is a mental game I’m not sane enough to win.”

I lay my head back for the final time, closing my eyes and thinking of getting out of this place as hard as I can.

Hopefully this was all just one fucked up nightmare, and I’ll wake up in between my three men, happy as a pig in shit.

I’m a pig in literal shit right now.

* Bring Me To Life - Evanescence

* FLOOR 13 - mgk

TWELVE

NASH

We both passed out. The exhaustion was too much and pulled us both back to sleep. I don’t know what I thought dehydration would be like, but it wasn’t this. The dizziness is unbearable. The closest thing I can compare it to is when you finally get home from the club plastered and go to lie down, and the whole world is spinning. My head is swimming.

Then the exhaustion…

I don’t want to close my eyes; it only makes the dizziness worse, but my body reaches the point where it can’t fight it anymore. We’ve gone through that cycle too many times to count, and watching Ellie fight through it is an imaginary twist to the knife in my stomach.

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