Page 33 of A Love Like Venom

Suddenly I wasn't worthless.

I had him, my very own antidote from the poison that was my home, and he was mine.

He was mine until he wasn't.

Now I truly don't have him at all.

I take the tequila, my own personal choice of poison, bring it to my lips and swallow a mouth full. My eyes water as fire cascades down my throat and burns in my chest. Blinking rapidly pass the tears I steal another breath and take another large gulp.

It does nothing to help the pain in my chest. My heart cries for the man I once knew. For the boy I adored. The one who was my savior.

Dinner didn't go over well but it never does. I shouldn't be surprised by the behavior of my mother towards me. You think I would be used to it by the now, the constant berating. At one point in time, I wanted to win my mother's affection. I even wished for it upon the stars. A wish that sadly never came true and I don't think it ever will. Now I have a new wish. I wish my mother would simply ignore me.

Her relatively new boyfriend has been looking in my direction since dinner started. I could feel his eyes on me, burning through my skull. When I worked up the courage, I finally looked up at him. He was regarding me in an unsettlingway, I couldn't be too sure if there was a ghost of a smile on his face or not. The only thing I did know was that I didn't want him anywhere near me.

He has been doing this, this unnerving staring game since he met me. It makes me want to puke up my guts while I crawl out of my skin.

So, when dinner was done, I was all too ready to get up out of my chair and collect the dishes. Sure, I do the dishes every night, sometimes I even cook dinner but it's never because I want to. In that instance I never wanted anything more.

As I'm doing the dishes, I make sure I do them diligently yet quick. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to be. Still, it doesn't help that I can feel his eyes on me. Suppressing a shudder, I begin to wash the second to last dish.

Almost done.

A wave of relief begins to wash over me until a tidal wave sweeps that away in the form of Chris Blackwell.

I feel his presence behind me, large and threatening. But here is where his intimidation is far scarier than any I have encountered before, he's too calm. Too quiet. The only thing that is expressive are his eyes. When no one else is looking he lets his intentions towards me known.

That's what terrifies me the most because I know what lies ahead. It's a matter of how I'm going to save myself or better yet survive.

He presses closer to me, and I can feel the hardening of his penis against my back. My hands on the glass plate increase with intensity. My back goes ram rod straight. Air seizes from my lungs.

Leaning in his lips press against the shell of my ear. His breath calm and steady hitting against my neck. The food that I just ate travels up my throat and I have to swallow it down.

It's when his hand brushes lightly against my butt, his fingers lingering before gently grabbing a hold of my hip that my body feels so tense, I feel like I might snap.

With his lips close to my ear he purrs, "You're like a beautiful rose, aren't you? Just waiting to blossom from my touch."

No, I'm withering from his touch.

Feeling the bile press at the back of my throat again I try to move away from him. His grip on my hip grows stronger. A show of dominance.

Taking in a deep breath I reply shakily, "Let go of me."

His other hand comes up to play with the ends of my hair. I immediately want to cut it all off so that he can never touch it again.

My plea grants me no reprieve. Instead, he goes a step further. Pressing his erection against me and skimming his nose along my neck.

I've had enough.

"Let go of me," I repeat with more conviction.

Then he does something I never would have expected, he submits. At once he removes himself from my proximity.

Wanting to get away before he can change his mind, I force my stiff legs to leave the small kitchen.

Before I can make it out, he promises me two words that will haunt me, "One day."

That's when I make a break for it. I run as fast as my legs can carry me. I push past the nausea rising in my throat. I ignore the churn in my stomach. My lungs burn as I run at maximum speed.

---