The Suicide Bridge

Prologue

My breath hitches as I feel the feather-like touch of his finger slowly and softly trail down the contours of my spine leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. I try my best to control my breath so he will know I am asleep. Hopefully, that will stop him from touching me. But he is not stopping, if anything his pace is increasing. I started doing what I do in such times of despair I count silently ...

One

Two

Three

I hate this, I hate his touch and when he touches me I hate myself too, I promised myself I will never let this man touch me ever again but was it ever in my hands? It was his plan all along, he was the master, he was a player, and got what he wanted, as he always does.

Once his touch reaches the small of my back his finger pauses I sigh in relief and stop counting but he moves it again I want to scream I want to pull away I want to run away but I don't because I know he'll just catch me and in his eyes that will be a betrayal, and that is the biggest sin, he always punishes the traitors. I keep on keeping my breath steady and continue counting;

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

I want to jump off the bridge and kill myself like the girl before me he forced her into prostitution, she did it when he left her for his new prey – me, I want to flow away with water, but I doubt if water will dare to take what he proclaims as his. I thought about dousing myself in gasoline and setting myself ablaze melting away in the flames just to escape this man who makes me feel this way but I know it's useless even as a pile of ashes i'd never get away. The wind would carry me right back to him because he is the strongest force of nature. He did it before he'll do it again and again. As many times as it takes for me to surrender.

He introduced me to this sensation – The sensation of feeling loved and now he is making me regret ever feeling that. His finger trails up my spine again unable to contain my reaction I trembled with the touch I force myself not to feel it. This is not happening again, I tell myself i'm asleep back in my home in the small but safe village, with people I know surrounding me. This is nothing more than a dream or is it a nightmare he's not really touching me again except he is. I know he is every cell inside my body is screaming for help. Trying to get away from that touch. How can someone suffocate you with just their touch? The air feels thick like it's filled with the darkest smoke or maybe my lungs are just too stiff, aching along with every muscle in my body from my attempt to run away. I thought I made it but I was wrong.

Fifty-two

Fifty-three

His finger reaches the nape of my neck and he pauses there once more. I stop breathing yet again as if waiting for him to strike again but he didn't. his pause grows so long that I have to hold my breath waiting for his next move trying to think of anything that will make him stop as if this is a game of chess and I can plan a counter-attack, I know some of his moves by now but it's pointless even wondering he's already captured my queen— checkmate.

Once more his finger follows the path of my spine making it halfway down it explores the rest of my back, making shapes and patterns on my skin on its way like he is an artist showing his craft on his living canvas. despite myself, curiosity gets the best of me and I wonder what he's drawing it feels random at first but I have known this man for over a year now, he never does nonsensical; his every movement has a reason, a meaning behind every word, a point to his actions a method to his madness and it's usually never good for those have dared to cross him and I have crossed him by daring to run away from him.

One one hundred

Two one hundred

I force myself to keep my breath steady as I try to make sense of the movement of his finger as it seems to dance along my back tickling me is he drawing me a pretty picture of a beautiful life he once promised me? Trying to make his lies a reality? Or is it his feeling that he wants to share with me? The way he says he feels about me, but I can tell he does not love me, it is an obsession, he is just obsessed with me, and that is why he brought me here again at all cost, from that I am guessing it's a ransom note.

His calm demeanor makes me mad I wish he would draw a rope so I could pull it from my flesh and hang myself with it I'm sure that will be his best punishment. Or I can kill him instead, he deserves it.

One-two hundred,

Two-two hundred,

Wait, I think I just picked up the pattern - his finger following the same trail looping and curving, I realized after a moment that he's spelling out a single word in cursive 'Shams' his full name is Aamir Shams, Shams in Arabic means the sun. He is the sun that grows those who obey him but burns those who dare to cross him.

he traces the name again and again the rough texture of his fingers skimming along my back it's as if he's marking me as his territory, branding me and claiming me as his with the signature of his fingertips an ironclad contract forged with blood and tears — of course, my tears and blood.

He once made me feel that there were no other options for me, if I have to survive I had to do this, I have to be with him. It wasn't until later that I got to know his true face and by the time I realized my mistake it was far too late just to walk away if I ever even could have.