Stalking the Dancer || 18+

Part Eighteen - Run

This is my hell.

The little devil lying on my chest is still sound asleep. I don't think I've rested like this since the last time I held her all night, and the thought of untangling myself from her makes me want to bang my head against the headboard like a maniac. Twenty minutes ago, I thought there wasn't a thing on the planet that could get me out of this bed.

Nineteen minutes ago, according to the alarm clock on the side table, her stomach started growling. I've been in a mental battle with myself ever since. I need to make her breakfast, she needs proper nutrition to heal from her injuries, and yet I can't force myself to roll away from her.

It takes me four more minutes before I bite the bullet, and I regret it the second my feet hit the cold, wooden floor. I quietly pull a pair of sweats from the dresser and pull them on as I stumble down the hallway. I manage to shoulder the wall as I'm rubbing my eyes, and I curse myself under my breath for being such a wreck.

Mornings like these remind me of the ones in my twenties before I started keeping my nose clean. I couldn't stand the exhaustion that came after a night of restless, nightmare-fueled sleep, so I'd get high. It worked for awhile.

Until it didn't.

Cleaned myself up somewhere along the way, I suppose. Now I cure my mornings with coffee; not nearly as fun, but I'm a hell of a lot happier now than I was before. I don't know if it's possible to get high off of another person, but if anyone is a living drug, it's Dorothy. I can't get my mind off of her, which is how I wind up in the kitchen, on autopilot again.

Cooking is mindless for me, and I let my thoughts wander back to Dorothy as I get to work. The groceries I stocked in the kitchen are basic, but that's how I like it. As I move through the room I think of everything we have to talk about today, so many things that I doubt we'll be able to cover half of them. There's so much I want to know; so much I need her to know.

But my biggest priority is her mental health. I know more than most the true weight of taking a life, and it's not pretty. It takes a toll, even on seasoned guys like me. I can't imagine the emotional turmoil that will build up inside as a result of her trauma, just the thought makes me want to punch a hole in the wall. I hate it for her, but I have to keep my wits about me. I have a chance to take care of her and I have no intention of fucking it up.

I have no idea how long its been when I finally pull my head out of my ass, but there's a hefty spread of pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs, and fixin's ready for my girl. I lazily start washing up the dishes, and I'm almost through when I hear the faint sound of footsteps behind me. Without missing a beat, I turn around to see a sleepy Doe standing inches away from me. Her baggy shirt is hanging from one shoulder, her feet are bare, and she's staring up at me with an amused grin on her face.

"You know, for a stalker, you're pretty easy to sneak up on." I feel my jaw tick at her sass, but the rest of my body reacts for an entirely different reason. I've been patient, controlled, even, but I'm reaching the end of my rope with her. "Eat." The word sounds like a threat, low and commanding in the wake of her lighthearted attitude. Most people would change their tune at a reaction like that, but not my demon.

"Dear god, do you hear yourself?" She turns on her heel and grabs a plate from the countertop, before filling it with food, all the while, she's handing my shit right back to me. "Eat," She lowers her voice in a mocking tone, never missing a beat as she continues to fix her plate, "You're a real piece of work, you know? You spent the past hour making us a massive breakfast and the second you see me, you start bossing me around." I notice her limping as she walks to the breakfast table in the corner of the kitchen.

I wait until she's settled in her chair to ask, "Are you in pain?" Her silence is all the confirmation I need. I move down the hall to the bathroom, and grab a bottle of painkillers from the medicine cabinet.

I don't say a word, simply leaving the bottle on the table before returning to the kitchen sink. I hear her shake the pills into her palm, and I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart before turning around to watch her. She takes the medicine and digs into her food.

She didn't have much of an appetite yesterday, but after sleeping for as long as she did, I'm sure the hunger is catching up to her. Thankfully, she doesn't seem to mind my watchful gaze. I need to make sure she's eating properly, because she looks like she hasn't been. Her cheeks are sunken in, her undereyes defined by dark circles. My little devil hasn't been taking good care of her health, but how could she? Grappling with the emotional distress I caused her was most likely keeping her busy. I also don't know everything that Mark prick did and said to her before he decided to attack her. I feel like I'm trying to do a puzzle without all of the pieces, and that feeling makes my skin crawl. I want to know everything about her. I want to help her. No, I need to care for her, and this is the only way I know how.

I watch as she finishes her food, never glancing in my direction. She'd never give me the satisfaction, and that just sinks her hooks in deeper. I've never needed a partner who stares back, just one willing to live comfortably while I do. I'm all hers, whether she wants me or not; there is no other woman for me, and I'm about to spell it out for her.

Straightening my back, I cross my arms over my chest and ask, "How are you feeling?" She shrugs as she stands from the table and walks toward me with her plate in hand. I stand like a statue, letting her move around me to place her dishes in the sink. When she moves away I try again, more direct this time. "Did you get full?" I don't miss the smirk that she stifles, undoubtedly choking down a sarcastic comment about my overbearing tendencies. Good thing for the both of us, I couldn't give a fuck less because I've got other things on my mind.

She nods her head as she rounds the island, and my hand shoots out to grab her arm before she's out of reach. My grip isn't tight, though it's not exactly gentle, either. The thing about Dorothy that makes her so different from the other women I've known is her ability to be soft without needing to be handled that way. She can roll with the punches like everyone else and still come out sweet on the other side. I may be speaking too soon, though, because I have no clue how she'll turn out after this.

Her eyes go wide, bouncing from where my hand grips her arm and up to my face a few times before she decides she's not in enough danger to put up a fight. I see it the moment it crosses her eyes; trust, recognition, knowledge that my roughness isn't a sign of anger in the slightest. It's just who I am.

"Game is over, Doe. It's time to talk about where we're going from here." I should ease her in, but I've been patient enough. My palms itch, and easing her in has never been something I've been able to do. The smile that cracks my face isn't meant to scare, but I feel her struggle weakly against my grasp at the sight of it.

"We're going to talk. But first, you need to learn a lesson."

Her cheeks flush the perfect color of pink, with some splotches that are redder than the surrounding skin. I wonder if her ass cheeks will turn that color before we're done here. Her shallow breaths bring me back to the moment, and I feel every nerve in my body at attention, waiting for my next move.

"Billy, what are you talking about?" She's nervous, that much was obvious before she spoke a word. The trembling in her voice isn't the same as it was the night I took her, or even the day I tortured someone in front of her. It sounds closer to how it did the night I snuck into Lee's apartment to get alone time with her. She sounds almost excited, nervous, but intrigued nonetheless. That's my girl.

"You only have five seconds head start, Doe." My voice is gruff, and I feel the need creeping over my skin like a swarm of wasps. Her time is up, and judging from the surprised look on her face, she knows it. "What-" I don't let her finish before releasing her arm and uttering the only instruction she needs to scramble out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

"Run."