You Are Mine

Chapter 8: A knife can be a fun toy

Trigger warning: knifeplay is in this chapter. I know I know, It's messed up. Remember this is a dark romance. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Skip if easily offended.

The sun peeks through the shades of the hotels windows. I wince and lay my arm over my face.

Go away, sunshine. Give me another hour.

But because Mother Nature isn't scared of little ole me, it only gets brighter. There's no way I'm going back to sleep, especially without all those meds that used to make me tired all the time.

I look over to where colson lays. He's peacefully sleeping. Chest slowly moving as he inhaled and exhaled in a slow steady rhythm. His face completely relaxed. I wondered if he was dreaming, if he even dreamt at all. Did he ever have a nightmare that actually scared him? Was the boogie man capable of nightmares?

I slowly and very carefully slide Colson's arm that's resting over my waist off to the side, not wanting to disturb him. I hold my breath as I slip out of bed, watching his face for any sort of reaction. I slowly release the air that i had trapped in my lungs and tip toe towards the bathroom. The urgency to pee was beyond real at this point.

After I'd taken care of myself, I wash my hands and unfortunately get a glimpse of my reflection. What a mess. I rinse my hands in the water and then smooth out my unruly hair. It was in desperate need of a hairbrush but my fingers would have to do for now. I try my best to make myself a little more presentable, it's a nearly impossible task. My stomach grumbles and I call my appearance good enough.

Don't hotels sometimes have complimentary snacks?

I venture out of the bathroom, noting colson is still in the same position I'd left him in. I sneak right by, walking to the little kitchenette. I stand on my tippy toes to check inside the cabinets, open the mini fridge, but sadly I find nothing. I however was not surprised considering this place was definitely on the cheap dingy side.

I eye the closet off to the side. Curiosity getting the better of me, I decide to check if anyone maybe had left something behind. Maybe a suitcase with a holy grail called 'hairbrush'. A girl could dream, right?

My hand grips the door handle and i end up having to give a firm pull for the door to move. Almost like it's slightly bigger than the door frame, or maybe it's slightly uneven from settling.

"Oh, god!" I cover my mouth and shriek at the sight before me.

A man huddled into a slumped over ball on the floor. Stab wounds on his arms, hands, and chest. He'd clearly tried to defend himself. The man's complexion was pale, almost a hint of blue to him. He'd been in this closet, dead, all night. His eyes are eerily open, staring at the wall. I feel my stomach twist with uneasy nerves. I feel frozen, I can't move, all I can do is stare.

Flash backs of dr z in his final moments rushing through my brain. Watching him die, hearing his last breath, and then colson making me scream out in ecstasy only a few steps away from the drs pool of blood. There's something wrong with me, who allows someone to finger them after watching them slit someone's throat moments before. More importantly, who doesn't feel phased at all by something like that?

Me.

Even now looking at this dead man, I'm not afraid of colson or what he did. Am I so completely broken and fucked up that I'm able to look past dead bodies like this?

I shut the closet and lean my back against the door.

You should be afraid of him. He told you that you could run, why won't you?

I look back at the bed and the man I'm completely in awe of still appears to be sleeping. I walk myself back towards the bed, heart racing faster and louder with each step. My eyes catch sight of a large knife on the nightstand, without a doubt the same one used to kill the man id discovered and we can't forget our dear doctor.