Page 83 of He Should Be Mine
All the reasons for running are burning through me once more. Whatever spell Dario put me under has well and truly worn off. All I’m feeling now is a bone deep terror.
I spin around and slam right into Dario’s broad chest. He shuts the door behind him and the click of the latch is deafening in its finality.
I look up at him. He looks down at me. I fall helplessly into his whisky colored eyes. A fly trapped in honey. Unable to move. Unable to save myself.
He gives me the same look that he gave me in the coach station. That look that somehow enables me to breathe a little easier.
Trust me.He is not whispering the words this time, but I hear them nonetheless.Trust me.
Does he have a plan? Does it matter? Because I may be all kinds of stupid, but I’ve always known that trusting peopleis a surefire way to get fucked up. There is no earthly reason for Dario to be any different from everyone else on the planet.
Silently, he hands me the rucksack that was supposed to be my whole new life. It was going to be my freedom, my escape. A whole new chapter and all that shit. A life of running and hiding. Of always looking over my shoulder. Of never being able to relax.
It was going to be crap. But is being back here any better?
I take the stupid bag. I look at Dario again. His brown eyes pull me in, even stronger than before.
Trust me.
His eyes are still saying it. It is beyond stupid to feel like I can trust him. But stupid is practically my middle name. Why change the habit of a lifetime?
I stare at him some more. The wild fluttering of my heart calms into a slow and steady rhythm. As if now it is beating for him.
Trust me.
Fuck it.
I’ll bite and take the bait. I’ll trust him. I’ll listen to my idiotic heart.
Everyone has to die sometime. It might as well be romantically. If staying in a dangerous situation because a handsome man asked you to, can be considered romantic.
Sighing, I tighten the grip on my bag. Without a word, I turn back around. I walk into the mess of my room and shut the door.
What a bloody day.
I really hope Rick doesn’t check the camera feed. If he sees me creeping out at ass o’clock with a giant rucksack onmy back, I’m done for. Whatever Dario is planning won’t save me.
Numbly, I throw the bag back into the closet. It hits the back wall with a thud. A bit of plaster falls off. Oops. Oh well, nobody is going to see that.
Just like I hope no one is going to see me running. I suppose I could tell Rick that I went for a morning run. With a large bag for extra weight.
Need to keep myself pretty for you, Daddy.
My snort of derision echoes around the room. Not even Rick is that stupid. I’m just going to have to pray he never looks. I mean, he has no reason to. Why would he look at hallway footage from five a.m? But then again, who knows how Rick’s mind works?
I run my hand through my sweaty hair. For fuck’s sake. Just call me creative, because I create new problems every day.
Like the state of this room. It actually looks like a bomb went off in here. It is completely uninhabitable. I don’t want to be murdered in a messy room.
With a heavy sigh, I set about tidying up.
It takes a while and when I’m done, I hop into the shower. As I’m toweling off, a delicious smell reaches me. Dario is making lunch?
I dress quickly and hurry to the kitchen to investigate.
He is stirring something on the hob. Slow, steady movements. The damn man has rolled his shirtsleeves up. Is he trying to kill me before Rick can?
“What’s for lunch?” I ask with my biggest, brightest grin.
