Page 83 of Dirty Behavior

“Fuck!” he yelled, throwing his hands in the air and tearing at his hair. He looked like he was about to burst at the seams. The world was falling apart around him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He had underestimated the man who challenged him. His eyes exploded, all sense of humanity had vanished, replaced with a maniacal craze. “This won't happen, I won't let it.” Scanning the room, he spoke to nothing and everything all at once. He spoke to me. “Don't think this ends here, don't think this will open a door to free you. You're still mine.”

Remo's feet slammed like lead against the floor, slowly dissipating into soft droplets of rain bouncing in the distance.

He's leaving. He's gone.

Standing up, I frantically looked around. And it slowly seeped in that the room I had used for shelter was as much a prison as the closet he had used for punishment. It was a dead end.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

My feet patted across the floor like the tiny microbes that lived on your skin. I was there but not there, walking but invisible. My adrenaline was fed by fear, but my strength grew from this baby.

I was getting out.

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