Page 46 of Creep
I’m so fucking idiotic.
Seriously.
What in the hell was going through my head that made me blurt out a bunch of almost sappy shit, like I actually give a shit about this girl. But everything I said was true as much as it physically pains me to say it—and I do mean physically. I sit at this kitchen stool clutching my chest and attempting to rub the ache away, but it’s fucking useless.
This girl came into my life kicking and screaming—literally—and now she’s gone and thrown everything for a fucking loop. She’s damaged, broken, and straight up fucking ruined. Everything I am.
Our souls have emerged from the deepest depths of our hells to find one another. And found one another they have.
I have always been a soulless creature. A monster lingering in the darkest shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.
I was content with everything in my life. I have a nice fucking house, someone I care about who I know will always have my back—Leo, all the money I could ever want. I don’t struggle anymore, and I never have to stress about mundane shit. I have everything I ever wanted from back when I was living on the streets. From rags to riches they say, though you’d never know it with me. I may have money but I’m not one of those money hungry goons who feels the need to flaunt it in everyone’s face.
Now? Now I feel a piece of myself I have always thought was missing, has returned. But I don’t fucking like it. In fact, I loathe it. I never asked to fuckingfeel.I never asked to fuckingcare.
I need something to take this shit away.
I’m feeling things I have never felt before. No, it’s definitely not love, but it’s something. And something is better than the nothing I have always felt.
...Right?
* * *
It’s been three hours.Three fucking hours since Essa darted upstairs and I’m barely holding on by a thread. My conflicting feelings and thoughts have long since passed and now anger has taken their place, and the longer she remains up there, the worse it gets. I swirl the bourbon around in the glass as I attempt to restrain myself. Other than getting up to grab a bottle of my favorite bourbon, Woodford Reserve, and a glass, my ass has remained seated in the same fucking stool.
I told her little ass she wasn’t allowed to pull shit like this again, but of course she didn’t listen. I was beginning to think after these last couple of months, she had actually burned it into her brain she was to fuckinglisten, but she loves to surprise me. It’s an Essa specialty.
Well, I’m fucking tired of the one being surprised. It’s about high time the roles become reversed and she’s the one getting the surprise of a lifetime.
I toss back the rest of my drink and slam the glass against the counter. The amount of force I use is enough for it to shatter. Glass shards fly everywhere and a few bigger pieces of glass remain intact at the base of the glass cut into my hand. I glance down when I notice blood dripping onto the counter and there are gashes that are a few inches across and deep, but my anger keeps me from feeling a fucking thing.
In fact, it only adds gasoline to my already raging fire. I clench and unclench my fist a few times. The gash spills more blood onto the counter, and a small puddle begins to form. The heat of the wound seeps into me and for a split second, I remember what it was like. Taking anything remotely sharp to my skin to take away the cold, the hunger pangs, the utter loneliness.
I grip the stool I was sitting on moments ago and hurl it across the room with a roar. It lands with a crash against the glass wall and for a moment, I think the glass will shatter. Much to my disappointment it remains intact.
I feel an insatiable need to break something.
And I know just what to break.
* * *
“Wake up,baby doll. Guess what time it is?” I chuckle as I watch Essa’s beautiful green eyes flutter open as I toss her down onto my bed. At first, she takes a quick glance around the room before bringing her eyes back to mine, confusion ringing loud and clear. She doesn’t say a word, apparently choosing to remain silent.
Either way, I don’t fucking care.
She sits up slightly but struggles a bit with her hands bound together and resting against her stomach. I tied her hands together while she was asleep in her own room before I moved her. The red rope digs into her skin just enough she already has indentations from it, which I catch a flash of as she twists her wrists a few times, most likely testing the strength of the knot. As if she doesn’t know I don’t fucking around when it comes to my bondage.
She’s my fucking slave and the little bitch needs a reminder.
I take a drag from the cigarette which rests between my teeth as I keep my eyes trained on Essa. She drives me fucking crazy.
She rests her back against the headboard to my bed and focuses right on me with a look of pure boredom across her face.Well, it seems like I’m going to have to fix that.
I take one last puff and smash the cigarette in the marble ashtray that’s on the stand. An evil fucking thought crosses my mind on how to punish her and it’s fucking brilliant, but it’s something I’ve never done before—surprisingly. I’ve done a lot of fucking shit in my life, but this particular one never crossed my mind until now. As I said before, this bitch drives me fucking mad. I guess we’re about to see just how fucking mad that is.
I walk over to my dresser and pull out another bundle of rope and bring it over to Essa. I feel giddy with excitement and there’s even pep in my step as I make my way to her. Her eyes narrow the closer I get.
Without a word, I unwrap the rope and then step up onto the bed. With my feet planted on either side of her, I bring the rope up to the bars I have across the top of my canopy bed. A bed I had custom made in iron which was assembled right here in my bedroom because the materials made it too heavy to move even in larger pieces.
