I grit my teeth through the pain and wonder how he became this way. What happened to make him such a monster? I don’t ask him, and he doesn't speak to me again, except to tell me I can eat before he leaves quickly after.
And so continues my life over the next week.I read all day, every day, and do little else.
After checking the bathroom for cameras and finding it empty, I take a few baths as well. When I've grown tired of reading and need something else to keep me busy, I request a notebook and pen from Javi.But what he delivers this evening has the blood draining from my face.
It's my journal.My already half full journal. He hands it to me and tries to leave.My voice stops him.
"Did you read this?"
His back is turned away from me, shoulders tense. He doesn't speak, and I know... I just know that he has.
"What is wrong with you?" I demand. "Do you even realize how fucked up this is? You watching me on cameras and listening to me in my own home. Kidnapping me... and now this... reading my journal..."
I choke on the words, and strangely enough, that feels like the worst of his offenses. Because these words are private.
So very private.
So very shameful.
My face is hot even thinking about him exploring the darkest and most intimate corners of my mind.
"You had no right!" I yell at him. "Let me go."
He turns deliberately on his heel. Slow. Too slow. Deadly and massive. Looming over me like a black cloud. I back away, but there's nowhere for me to go. I'm pinned between him and the bed.
"I had no right?"
His voice is deceptively soft. And for a moment, I think that I am safe. That it's going to be okay. Until he reaches out and catches me by the chin, arresting my face in his unyielding hand.
"I have every right," he thunders. "You belong to me!"
My lungs fight for air when he drags me closer, the pulse in my neck beating a wild staccato against my delicate skin. Javi sees it. He sees everything. And he likes what he sees.
He likes to taste my fear.
But it isn’t just fear anymore. It’s something else too. A force of nature that can’t be contained. It’s a thrill. An adrenaline rush. A rollercoaster of want and need and hate and revulsion.
His breath whispers over my lips as he leans into my face.And I am not the only one at odds with my feelings. Javi is walking a razor’s edge of control, his eyes swinging from destruction to obsession and back again. I never know which side of him will win. So I remain still and quiet, waiting for the storm to pass.
His fingers drift over my face. Soft and gentle and full of reverence.I don't understand.
What's more, I don't understand my response to him. He has conditioned me to accept his touch so freely. Not only do I accept it, but I find solace in it. Pleasure, even.
“I told you to be a good girl,” he says. “I warned you.”
“I’m sorry.”
"Just one taste," Javi whispers to himself. "Just one."
He kisses me.
It shocks me back to life before I die all over again in his arms. I can’t grasp what's happening. He’s never kissed me before. And it feels so different. His lips are soft and warm until they aren't.
When my lips part, his tongue invades and conquers. He drinks me in. He nourishes his obsession. And he devours me. What started as a simple taste now feels like he is taking a part of my soul.His arms hold me prisoner so he can take from me what he wants.
He doesn’t need to. Not anymore. Not when I am giving myself freely. Not when I am kissing him back. Drinking him in and nourishing my psychosis.
Without warning, he pulls away.Breathless, we stare at each other. Feverish cravings ignite the air between us. I thirst for him, still. And he hungers for me. But Javi can’t and won’t admit it.