Away

Chapter 6

~Aspen~

I was haunted throughout the night by dark dreams, filled with flashes of my dead boyfriend's face and the splatter of Ashton's blood against his rusted truck.

The dark scared me, so I ended up falling asleep early in the morning, when it got light outside.

I woke feeling happy and amazing, free of any worries.

Just kidding.

I was in the house of a psychopath, who had me cuffed to a bed.

I rolled over so I wasn't facing the wall, and was startled by the face of the man who had taken me from my home.

"What the hell?" I asked him.

"Finally," A huge smiled graced his (I'm embarrassed to say) handsome features, "I've been sitting here for a hour and a half, waiting for you to wake up."

My mouth fell open, and I lifted myself from the bed.

"Although you do look beautiful when you sleep."

I shook my head and looked away from him.

"What's your name?" I asked him, meeting his wandering gaze.

"Darius," He said. He placed a hand on my leg, and I moved away.

"That's a cool name," I commented. He took a key from his back pocket and unlocked the cuff around my wrist. His hand moved up to my leg, to keep me from moving.

"It's not as cool as yours. I've always loved your name."

"How long have you known me?"

He frowned. He must have expected that I would ask this question at some point.

"Why don't we talk about this over breakfast. Here, I'll lead you downstairs."

He gently took my hand, holding it in his own as though it was made of glass, and helped me off of the bed.

The open living room was much prettier in the morning than it was at night. The early morning sun streamed through the many windows, casting a warm glow on the furniture.

We sat down at a small table, and he pushed me a plate of food.

I swallowed. I couldn't eat this. It was too much, and I wasn't to my 100 pound goal yet.

"I'm not hungry." I lied, although I'm sure he could hear the reluctant growls of my stomach.

"Aspen, please eat something." He looked at me sympathetically. Did he know?

He couldn't know, so I took my shaking hand and picked up the fork on the plate. I stabbed a piece of scrambled egg and began to raise it to my closed mouth. I wanted to cry.

I could feel his gaze on me, so I gingerly pressed the fork into my mouth.

It didn't taste bad, but the haunting thought of being fatter than I already was was so terrifying that I spit the eggs onto the plate, dropping the fork.

I looked up at Darius, who still looked at me with a sad look.

"Darling, please. Eat something, it's good for you." He pleaded.

"I can't." I admitted.

"You're fucking perfect, Aspen. Don't let the pressure keep you from living."

So he knew about it, then.

He spoke like he had experienced something like this, and I wouldn't be surprised to find out that he was troubled.