At His Command

Stalling

When I wake up the following morning, a smile makes its way to my face.

I felt so relieved and satisfied. There was no pressure in my chest.

As soon as I remember the reason why, I frown.

Groaning, I get out of bed, dress quickly, and head out to find my mother before I run into him.

I have no idea what he might have planned for me, but I refuse to make it easy for him. If he wants to threaten me, so be it—I won't give in willingly.

Mom is already dressed and brimming with excitement about choosing the flowers for her wedding. My cousin Amara arrives in the living room, and we all head out together.

Amara drives us to the flower shop while Mom shares her vision from the passenger seat. I listen to their conversation from the backseat, scrolling through my phone when I receive a message.

Unknown number: I didn't give you permission to leave. I wanted breakfast in bed. You will pay for this.

I gulp, my heart sinking. How did he get my number?

I inwardly groan when my breasts start pulsing at the idea of being drained by him again.

I didn't want to like it. My body just always acted in a different way than my brain did.

We arrive at the flower shop, a charming little place filled with the fragrance of fresh blooms and the vibrant colors of every imaginable flower. The shop is a cozy haven, with bouquets of roses, lilies, and orchids arranged meticulously in glass vases.

My mother's eyes light up as she walks down the aisles, admiring the flowers and envisioning how they'll complement her wedding. I follow behind, trying to focus on the task at hand while feeling a growing anxiety about the text I received earlier.

As I'm lost in thought, my phone buzzes again, startling me. I glance at the screen to see another message from the unknown number.

Unknown number: Where are you? I want my lunch.

I try to swallow the lump in my throat as I tuck my phone away.

After we finish selecting the flowers, I suggest, "Mom, don't you want to check out those napkins you were talking about?"

"Oh," she gasps, her eyes widening with realization. "Good idea. Let's go!"

We head to a nearby store to check on napkins for the wedding. The store is filled with elegant and colorful options, and Mom takes her time deliberating over patterns and colors. I watch the clock, feeling the minutes drag by as I try to avoid drawing attention to my mounting distress.

As the evening grows darker, I suggest we visit a bakery to try a different cake for the rehearsal. Mom agrees, and we head to a quaint little shop known for its delicious pastries.

The bakery is warm and inviting, filled with the aroma of fresh cakes and pastries. We sample several options, discuss their pros and cons, and decide on a final choice.

By the time we finish at the bakery, the sky is painted with hues of orange and pink. We drive back home, and as soon as we arrive, I make a beeline for my room. I need to get away before he sees me.

I close my door quietly and lock it behind me, taking a deep breath of relief.

I lean against the door for a moment, my heart still racing from the day's stress. I finally feel a moment of safety, even if it's only temporary.

"Why the fuck have you not answered my messages?"