He had lived every day as the one before. One after the last the days blurred together. He wanted nothing more than to find something to live for. To have a suicidal mate was unbearable. Especially when she doesn't know she's your mate.
She'd been...
This guy is fucking sick. I get he wants some kind of girlfriend type of experience but, now he's bringing little old ladies into it. I sigh as I take another bite of my food, he is an amazing cook.
Looking around the room I spot a few potential weapons. Maybe I can grab something and use it to threaten my way out of this house. It'll be difficult to get one though. I can feel him watching me. I'm sure if I make any move to get something he'll grab me.
"Are you done?", He asks. I look down at my half-empty bowl. As good as it is I can't imagine having another bite and I'm already planning to purge what I have eaten.
"Yes", I say, "thank you".
He sighs, "you really should eat more". He collects all the dishes and puts them in the sink. I carefully watch his every move. He leaves no opening for me to potentially grab a knife.
He comes back to the table and stands beside me. He speaks some foreign words to the lady. The woman smiles as she seemingly answers him.
He turns to me, "hey I'd appreciate it f you didn't fight me too much this time". Before I can question him on what he means he's tossed me over his shoulder. I start to fight against him when I feel him smack my ass.
"None of that", he says. I still from his actions. He hums his approval at my obedience and starts to help the woman.
He guides her from the kitchen to a living room and sits her on the couch. I hear the TV start and he hands what I'm guessing to be a remote.
He returns to the kitchen and I listen as he turns on a faucet. He finally sets me down next to him as he starts to do dishes.
"Behave or you go back up", he says before turning his attention to the sink full of dishes. I look between him and the drying wrack next to me waiting for the opportunity to grab one of the glasses from last night. He already put away the knives but, he didn't think about glass.
He turns from me a tad bit more while scrubbing at a pot and I take my shot. I grab the glass and smash it against the countertop before he can stop me.
When he turns to me I'm holding the largest chunk in front of me ready to cut him should he get too close. He makes a move for me and I take a step back, my hand tightening over the glass.
"Stay back", I tell him. I can feel the blood running down my hand.
"You're hurt", he says going for me again. I swing the glass wildly in his direction. I miss him and the glass digs further into my palm. Still, he raises his hands in surrender and takes a step back.
"I am leaving and if you try to stop me I'm slitting your throat", my voice sounds breathless. I back out of the room making my way to the doorway he'd just taken the lady through.
Walking backward take a step out of place hitting the wall and causing me to stumble. This is all the opening he needs and he's immediately on me. His body pins mine against the wall as he starts to wrestle the glass from my hands.
"Let me go!", I shout. In my desperation, I hold the glass tighter pressing it deeper into my hands. I can tell he's much stronger than me and I won't be able to keep it away from him much longer.
In a last-ditch effort, I take the glass and slash at his face. He gets the glass away from me but, I still manage to cut him. He throws the glass away from us and grabs my hands. I fight his hold knowing that it's pointless. He's going to kill me.
"Be still", his voice is its usual calm but, I know better than to trust it. I continue fighting against him trying in vain to escape.
"Be still", his voice sounds more forceful now. He pushes his hips against me caging in my body while he maintains his hold on my hands. I stop struggling as the tears begin to roll down my face.
He looks from my hands to my eyes, "does it hurt badly?". I say nothing and stare at the cut on his face. A thin line of red just an inch from the corner of his lips down to his jawline. The crimson drips down his neck.
Even if he kills me at least I can die knowing I fought back. I guess it won't be so bad to die. It makes sense why these guys always kill women like me. No one will ever look for me because there's no one to grieve. I have left no impact on the world and I doubt I would have had I not met him.
"Please just make it quick", my voice comes out as a whisper. He only frowns at me and takes me up into his arms.
"You need stitches", he says. He quickly grabs a clean dish towel and wraps it around my worse hand.
"Keep it on", he says, "it'll stop the bleeding". He takes me through the house and back outside to his car; only pausing to grab his keys.
He struggles a moment to open the door while holding me jostling me a bit. Once he gets the handle he pushes it the rest of the way with his hip. He sets me down in his passenger seat and buckles me in. The slamming of the door startles me.
I watch him hurry around to his side and he gets in. The second his door is closed he's turning his key in the ignition and pulling out of his long driveway.
Despite his seeming affinity for them ,I notice he's not wearing his seat belt while speeding down the gravel road. I almost want to say something but, think better of it.
"Where are we going?", I ask.
"The hospital", his answer sounds short but, not upset.
"Why".
"You hurt your hands", he says it like it's the most normal thing in the world. Who kidnaps a prostitute to get them medical attention?
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