Page 52 of Creep
“Yeah. Be down in a minute.” He steps back and slams the door in my face. I roll my eyes and go downstairs to wait for him.
* * *
Dinner issilent and mostly awkward with Vincent not saying a word and my anxiety not allowing me to. The closer it gets to nightfall, the more anxious I become and my body is beginning to exude that.
My leg jitters up and down under the table when all of a sudden, his hand shoots out to still my movements. My eyes fly to Vincent’s as a meek smile graces my lips.
“Wanna tell me what the fuck’s got you so jittery?” he asks, but I can tell it’s a demand. I ponder my answer for a minute before deciding on giving him a half—truth so I’m not completely lying through my teeth.
“Just anxious.”
“About?” He deadpans.
“You.” I spit out before shoving a bite of chicken into my mouth before I blurt anything else out. His eyebrows draw together in confusion as he tries to figure out what I mean.
“Care to explain?”
“Not really. I’m sure you can guess,” I quip before shoving more food in my mouth.
And that’s the last of the conversation. We both finish our plates and work in tandem cleaning the kitchen up before moving up to our rooms for the night.
Not uttering a single word the entire time.
25
Essa
Buzz,buzz. Buzz, buzz.
My phone buzzes in the bed beside me and my heart leaps from my chest.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Okay, calm down. You can do this.
I sit up in bed and swing my legs over the edge as I flip open my phone to read the text.
On my way. The GPS says the ETA is in thirty minutes. See you soon.
My hands and legs shake as I stand and move to the chair in the corner of my room to grab my packed bag. I didn’t pack much, only a few days’ worth of clothes, but it’s enough for now. I reach behind my headboard and grab the copied papers, shoving those inside of my bag along with my iPod and my phone. I don’t have my fucking knife anymore. I don’t know where Vincent ever put it after he took it away from me and I wish now more than ever I had it.
But it’s too late now.
I swing my bag over my shoulder and walk to the glass, staring up at the moon and stars as they shine bright in the clear sky.
All right stars. I know I said I would never wish upon you again, but here I am, ten years later, fucking wishing.
I need this to work. I need to be free and I need your fucking help to do it.
Help me finally be free.
I take a deep breath and turn away, something like hope blossoming in my chest.
As I exit my room, I shut the door softly behind me, but then I move to Vincent’s door and stop. My brain screams at me to keep going, to get the fuck out of here, but I don’t listen. I fight my self-preservation as I carefully drop my bag next to me and pop open his door with a soft creak. I step inside and close it behind me.
He’s sleeping on his back, and his left arm is curled up above his head and his right lies against his side. The black silky blanket rests low across his waist, leaving nothing to the imagination. His naked chest and abdomen are on full display as are his defined hips. I lick my lips and fight the urge to run my tongue along every fucking crevice of his body one last time.
I don’t know what the actual fuck is wrong with me, but I move to the dresser that I know has handcuffs in it and slowly drag it open and,thank god,find two pairs right on top. I strip myself of the sweatpants I’m wearing so I’m in only my underwear from the waist down and move behind his head. As carefully as I can, I clasp the handcuff around his left wrist and then to the metal bar of the bed frame.
