Somniphobia

Chapter 5. Cared for

Aria POV
I woke up in aching pain on the concrete floor of the basement. I began to cry as my entire body throbbed. I was shivering from how cold it was down here, and it was so dark I could barely see anything.

I looked up as soon as I heard someone open the basement door. I forced myself up on weak legs and rushed up the stairs. My mother was standing at the top with a sick smile on her face as she looked at my bruised, bloody arms and face.

"Go back to your room and don't come out until we tell you to. You're lucky we have visitors here, otherwise you'd be rotting to death in this basement," she said with pure annoyance and anger—angry that she had to let me out.

She wanted me to stay in the basement and die.

I rushed past her and ran upstairs to my room, ignoring the pain in my stomach, body, and face. I slammed my door shut and began sobbing uncontrollably.

I went into my bathroom and turned on the tub. I needed to wash off the blood and warm up my body. I slowly undressed and stepped into the hot water. I sank down, letting the heat relax my sore muscles.

I scrubbed myself carefully with a wash rag and soap. I had cuts and bruises all over my arms from rolling down the stairs and hitting the concrete floor. My head was throbbing with a migraine so bad it made me cry even harder.

When I finished bathing, I sat in the tub longer, trying to calm down, but the pounding in my head wouldn't stop. Tears just kept coming.

I got out, dried myself with a towel, and put on my one nightgown. My vision blurred from tears. My body still ached everywhere.

I couldn't take the pain anymore.

I walked out of my room and down the dark hallway to my parents' bedroom. I tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

"M-mommy... I-I'm in p-pain..." I cried, knocking weakly.

"Go back to bed or you're going back in the basement!" my father yelled, making me sob harder. I fell to my knees begging, but they ignored me completely.

My mother was the only one who had the pills that actually helped my migraines. Tylenol never worked. They both knew that.

My head felt like it was going to explode. Everything hurt—my stomach, my arms, my legs, my head—my whole body.

I leaned my head against their door, crying softly.

"M-mommy... p-please..." I begged through sobs. I was so exhausted. I just needed someone. I just needed help.

Suddenly, two shoes appeared in front of me. I looked up slowly and met the tall, scary man's eyes. He stared down at me with a stoic expression.

"Why are you up so late, little one?" he asked.

I cried even harder. I didn't know how to explain the pain I was in. He picked me up gently, wrapping my legs around his torso.

"Shh... I got you now, little one. Just breathe for me," he soothed while I cried over his shoulder as he carried me back to his room.

He set me down on his bed gently. His eyes tracked every bruise on my skin. I quickly grabbed the blanket and tried to cover myself.

He pulled the blanket away, eyes filling with anger. I didn't know if he was mad at me or mad about my bruises.

"Who did this to you?" he asked. "N-no one," I cried. "Quit lying to me. Tell me who did it." "I-it's n-none of y-your b-business," I argued, getting off the bed.

"Quit being stubborn and tell me," he demanded again.

"N-no!" I snapped. "W-why do y-you e-even c-care? W-we barely k-know e-each other!"

No one ever cared about me. I wasn't going to let him pretend he did.

"Get out," he said sharply.

I flinched at his harsh tone. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I walked out and went back to my room. I crawled into bed sobbing into my pillow. I hated myself. I hated my parents even more.

I wasn't a daughter to them. I was a maid. A punching bag.

My door opened. I sat up quickly. The scary man walked in, picked me up off the bed before I could speak.

"W-what are y-you d-doing?" I whispered.

"Taking care of what's mine," he said simply.

He carried me back to his room, into his bathroom, and sat me on the counter. He grabbed the first-aid kit.

"I-I'm o-okay..." I lied through tears.

He stood between my legs, looking at my trembling body.

He wiped my tears with a small towel. Then he poured alcohol on a cotton ball.

"This is gonna burn... I don't like being touched, but you're an exception, alright?"

"O-okay..."

He pressed the cotton ball to my cuts. I hissed and whimpered loudly. He touched my busted lip gently. My cheeks reddened when he looked into my eyes.

I instinctively licked my lips to wet them again. His eyes followed the motion.

He put blue bandaids wherever I needed them, letting me pick the color. I smiled softly even through the pain.

When I touched my lip, he gently moved my hand away and brushed his thumb over my lips. My cheeks burned.

"Have you ever been kissed before?" he asked. Y-ye-yes," I lied instantly. He chuckled deeply. I panicked. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, sweethea— "P-princess..." I corrected, embarrassed but honest.

He smirked softly. "I thought you didn't like when I called you that."

"N-no... I l-like it... b-but only w-when y-you s-say it..."

"Well then, Princess, there's nothing wrong with not being kissed yet."

"H-how old a-are y-you?" I asked.

"23." My eyes widened. Five years older. He placed a bandaid on the corner of my busted lip—then suddenly pecked my lips softly.

My heart stopped.

"T-that w-was m-my f-first k-kiss..." I whispered.

"That wasn't a kiss. Just easing your pain."

I pulled him toward me and pecked his lips the same way.

"L-like t-that?" I asked shyly. His eyes widened in surprise. "D-did I do i-it wrong?" I whispered."No... I just didn't expect you to kiss me."

"S-sorry... if y-you didn't l-like it..." "I liked it," he admitted. "C-can I k-kiss you a-again?" I asked "No," he said immediately. I pouted. "Y-you're m-mean..."

"You'll live," he muttered while putting away the kit. I slipped off the counter and headed to my room, but he grabbed my arm. "Did I say you could leave?" he asked, annoyed.

"N-no, I j-just—" "You thought wrong." He pushed me gently against the wall by my neck. "You're mine. There's no need for you to go back to your room."

He picked me up and carried me back to his bed.

"Get under the covers."

I obeyed. My head hurt too badly to argue. And honestly... I only slept well in his arms.

He undressed. I hid under the blanket, peeked at his body, then hid again.

He got into bed. I scooted away to give him space and closed my eyes.

Then he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me into his chest, holding me tightly.

My heart raced, but slowly... I relaxed.

For once in my life, I felt safe.