Page 57 of Tempt Me (Dark Odyssey 4)

I look into her eyes and try to see.

I find myself looking at that old pain again.

Old pain never goes away.

Pain and guilt. It’s the same.

I wonder what her story is.

Chapter Thirteen

Ava

I’m not stupid…

I may make stupid decisions sometimes, like deciding to drop my guard and allowing him in, but I’m far from stupid.

I know it’s because of the way we were on Friday why Vincent’s staying away. It got too real.

It got too real for me too.

I never really felt like I was a slut when I was with him until I woke up that morning and saw that he was gone.

It was just a feeling that came over me, and as the days went by, the feeling stuck, reminding me that I’m his whore so he can pick me up when he wants to fuck me and toss me to the side when he’s done with me.

I wonder if it was because he could sense that I’m damaged and broken. Like he knew there was something that wasn’t quite right about me.

He’s avoided me for the last few days, and today looks like it’s going to be the same.

I’ve pretty much stayed in my room watching day turn to night like a prisoner would.

I’ve barely been eating, and last night, I cried myself to sleep when images of the past came back to haunt me. It was that thought of being damaged that made the memories flow back, and I couldn’t stop crying. Then I was crying for everything and wishing life could have been better.

It nearly was with work at least.

I barely ate anything again today.

I felt bad for poor Marguerite doing her best to try and make me feel welcome to no avail. There’s only so much she can do with the little information she probably gets from Vincent.

There’s only so much I can do, and I wish to God none of this happened.

Maybe I should be more grateful for the days when I’m not a whore. Then I’m just a prisoner.

It’s watching and waiting that makes me more in tune with my surroundings. So, I’m more inclined to hear what’s happening around me.

It’s extremely late when the front door creaks open. I just know it’s him. He’s been coming in around this time the last few days.

I get out of the bed, careful as I pad across the floor, and open the door. The lights are off. I know I shouldn’t be roaming around the house at this hour, but I’ve decided I no longer care.

I no longer care about Friday or his stupid rules. It’s almost Friday again, and last week will be just a memory to file to the back of the shelf.

I want answers. That’s what I want.

All Vincent has told me is that Dad is at the clinic. I need more information than that. And I need to know when I’m leaving here. It’s not good for me emotionally and mentally to be in this house. It never was.

I step out into the passageway at the end of my corridor and see him across on the other set of stairs.

He’s about thirty feet away from me, so he can’t see me.

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