Page 18 of These Rough Waters

“Well guess what asshole, it isn’t anymore.”

His eyes narrow, “This house does not belong to you.”

“Is it yours?” I cock my hand on my hip and raise a brow.

He remains quiet.

“I have had about enough of fucking men thinking they can walk all over me. Thinking they canthreatenme. I will give you one more damn minute to get out of this house.”

He scoffs, cocking a dark smudge of a brow, “Or what, little doe?” He challenges, “What will you do?”

I step forward, he steps back, his mouth twitching up at the side in a sort of resemblance to a smirk. We make it out to the living space and at some point, rain must have started since I can hear it pounding against the glass on the windows, and there was a dripping sound coming from somewhere to the left where the living room was. Drawn by the noise, I take my eyes off of Torin and that was a mistake.

My balance is thrown suddenly when large, strong hands grab the tops of my arms, spinning me before my body is shoved forward, chest colliding with the wall as a hand secures both wrists behind my back and another hand comes up to frame my jaw. It wasn’t tight nor painful, a warning and reminder.

“Rule number one,” Torin’s breath teases at the shell of my ear. My heart feels about ready to jump right out of my throat and old instincts want to kick in. I bite my own tongue to stop the apologies, to stop the need to submit. “If you threaten someone and then take your eyes off them, expect to be taken down. Don’t pretend to be a lion when you’re really just a mouse.”

His front presses into my back, every hard inch of him and fuck he washard, a six-foot five mountain of a man with muscles bigger than my damn thighs and hands that could wrap around both wrists without much effort.

“Fuck. You.” I manage to bite out through the churning and nausea making my throat ache. My eyes were stinging with unshed tears, but he still holds me, giving me no room to move.

“Defend yourself better, little doe, or you might find yourself cornered by a monster much scarier than whatever it is you’re running from.”

My breath rushes from me when he finally releases me, but I don’t move, I sag against the wall as I listen to his sure, steady steps depart and the door opens before a pause.

“There’s a leak,” Is the last thing he says before the door closes with a thud and silence descends. I rush towards it, legs unsteady and twist the lock, slamming the deadbolt across and that’s when I lose the battle against the demons. My knees hit the floor and I curl over, trying to get air into my lungs.

To be caged by nightmares and crippled by fear was almost as bad as living the terror firsthand.

When would it end?

When would it stop!?

I stay there, on my knees with the leaking roof behind me, the steady drip, drip, drip of the water soaking the aged rug in front of the fireplace helping to calm the frayed nerves left behind.

Only when I feel like I can breathe again do I stand, stifling the groan when my aching muscles twinge and cramp from the position I’d stayed in too long. I clean up the water on the floor and place the wet rug by the door to hang out to dry if it ever stops raining. After I place a bucket under the leak, I trudge tiredly to the bedroom. I was exhausted. Mentally. Physically.

Climbing beneath the fresh linens, still in my robe with damp hair, I lay in the middle, looking out the window that didn’t have curtains right now and see lights illuminating the darkness across the way.

Torin?

The man was terrifying.

A fucking asshole.

My hand goes to my wrist, but he hadn’t left marks or any pain behind after he’d restrained me. He was holding me, I couldn’t move, there should be something left but there just wasn’t.

I don’t think he wanted to hurt me, though I knew without a shred of doubt, that he could and likely would if he wanted to.

It’s only when those lights go out, plunging the whole world around me into a state of such darkness, I can’t make out a single shape, do I choose to close my eyes and let the exhaustion drag me down.

Ten

It’s a knocking sound that wakes me. Above my head or that’s what it seems – actually no, not directly above me, but coming from somewhere in the house.

“Harper?” I call out, voice edged with the roughness of sleep, “Harper?”

Sunlight gleams through the window, bathing the bedroom in a golden hue that warms the space around me. Climbing from the bed, I rub my eyes and pad out into the hall. My daughter’s bedroom door was already open, her pajamas thrown across the floor as if she had gotten dressed in a hurry.

---