Your worst Nightmare

A Prisoner in her own home!

My boyfriend wrote this one and he typing it so I have no idea what its about! Please tell me In the comments!! sorry if there is anything bad.... READER BEWARE!! PLEASE!!   _______________________________________________________________________________ Dear Samantha,

I do not write these words alone. My hand may hold the pen but the thoughts do not belong to me. They belong to your late husband. Of late, he has been visiting me, asking for my help with his dilemma, a problem of which he has given me little or no idea. He just tells me that you will know exactly what he's talking about.

He says he misses you, but that you have not to worry about him as he is happy where he is and that he still watches you from his mirror world. He says he will wait for you and mentions some unfinished business? He does not elaborate on what that business could be, I suppose you will know though. He says the ring you've been searching for is in the cellar, that he put it there because he knows how you loved the way he'd turned it into a games room for you. He says that you should go there on the first anniversary of his death as he intends to visit you then. He asks if you will wear the red satin dress he bought you at Christmas and the steel bracelets he made for you.

He says that you should be brave and that you will make it through this. He sends love and kisses and asks if you still offer your heart as he gave his to you?

I write you this note at his request. Maybe now, he will leave me in peace!

Yours sincerely

J. B. Robinson

She put down the handwritten note and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes are full of fear because she knows exactly what the letter means. And the anniversary of his death is only a day away!

She walks across the room to the drinks cabinet. With a shaky hand, she pours herself a large gin & tonic. She drinks it over in one gulp then pours another. She takes a seat on the sofa, picks up her cigarettes, takes one out and lights it. She takes a long, hard drag, holds it for a moment, then exhales. The smoke swirls lazily to the ceiling. She has one day to come up with a plan.

That night she spent in restless sleep. Sleep plagued by memories. Memories of a man she had never loved. She only married him for his money. He was a successful businessman. His handsome looks and deep, dark, hypnotic stare, helped to seal many a deal. And his arrogance always insured he got the best price. He was rich beyond his means and would often flaunt it on whores to feed his kinky habits. That was how she had met him. Some of the other prostitutes who worked the streets with her, refused to entertain him, but she was willing to go that extra mile to please this handsome man who paid a handsome ransom. She very quickly became his favorite.

After a while, he'd asked her to marry him. She was unsure at first, but her greed soon persuaded her that it would be to her advantage. At first things were fine, she could put up with his little kinks while wallowing in her newfound wealth. But soon the little kinks became more and more perverted. Perverted to the extent that it hurt her to pleasure him. The cellar, or games room as he liked to call it, was a masochists haven, filled with chains, whips and paddles, the steel bracelets being shackles that left her helpless to his games of pain.

Sometimes he would leave her hanging from her steel bracelets for hours on end while he entertained clients upstairs, always making sure he gagged her so as she could not disturb his little soirees. Many times she had tried to flee, only to find the doors locked and windows barred. She had become a prisoner in her own home!

She awoke, still tired and weary but unable to get back to sleep. She felt drained of all emotion, her mind numb, and seemed to get dressed and go downstairs on autopilot. She poured herself a gin & tonic and lit a cigarette and sat at the end of the sofa. She looked at the discarded letter she had read the night before and her emotions came back. She cried. She couldn't stop crying. As sobs racked her body, so too did fear rack her mind. She could find no way to halt the haunting, and she knew that he would keep his promise to come back for her. She knew that he knew she couldn't call the police, that would be unwise and only attract the wrong kind of attention. Besides, the line was down anyway, had been for sometime now. She could flee the house, but then she'd tried that before, but for some reason, every path she took led her back here. She was still his prisoner.