Stolen - Harry styles

three

At least you hadn't tied me to the bed. Victims in films are always tied to the bed. Still, I couldn't really move. Each time I shifted my body even a little, sick rose in my throat and my head spun. There was a thin sheet over me. I felt like I was in the middle of a fire. I opened my eyes. Everything twisted and turned, beige and blurred. I was in a room. The walls were wood: long planks, bolted at the corners. The light hurt my eyes. I couldn't see you. I twisted my head around cautiously, looking. I tasted vomit in my throat. I swallowed it. My throat was thick. Rasping. Useless.

I closed my eyes again. Tried breathing deeply. I mentally checked down my body. My arms were there, legs, feet. I wriggled my fingers. All working. I felt down over my stomach. I had a T-shirt on; my bra was cutting into my chest. My legs were bare, my jeans gone. I felt the sheets beside me, then rested my hand against the top of my thigh. My skin went hot and sticky almost immediately. My watch wasn't on my wrist.

I ran my hand over my underpants and felt threw them. I don't know what I thought I would find, or even what I was expecting. Maybe blood. Torn flesh. Pain. But there was nothing like that. Had you taken my underpants off? Had you put yourself inside? And, if so, why had you bothered to put them back on?

"I haven't raped you."

I swung my head around. Tried to find you. My eyes still weren't seeing clearly. You were behind me, I could hear that. I tried pushing myself to the edge of the bed, away from you, but my arms weren't strong enough. They shook, and then collapsed me into the sheets. The blood was pumping through me, though.
I could almost hear my body start to flow and wake up. I tried my voice, managed a whimper. My mouth was against the pillow case. I heard you somewhere. Taking a step.

"Your clothes are beside the bed."

I flinched at your voice. Where were you? How close? I opened my eyes a little. It didn't hurt too much. Next to the bed, a new pair of jeans was neatly folded on a wooden chair. My coat wasn't there. Neither were my shoes. Instead, underneath the chair was a brown pair of leather boots. Lace up and sensible. Not mine.

I could hear you taking steps, coming toward me. I tried curling up, to get you away. Everything was heavy. Slow. But my brain was working and my heart was racing. I was in a bad place. I knew that much. I didn't know how I'd got there. I didn't know what you'd done to me.

I heard the floorboards creak a couple more times, the sound shooting adrenaline into my veins. A pair of black jeans stopped in front of me. My eyes were level with the material between your knees and crotch, level with the reddish dirt stains there. You didn't say anything. I heard my breathing get faster. I gripped the sheet. I forced my eyes to look up. I didn't stop until I reached your face. My breath faltered for a second then. I don't know why, but I'd have expected you to be someone else. I didn't want the person standing there, beside the bed, to have the same face I'd found so attractive at the airport. But you were there all right: the green eyes, darkish brown curly hair, and tiny scar. Only you didn't look beautiful this time. Just evil.

Your face was blank. Those green eyes seemed cold. Your lips plump and pink. I pulled the sheet up as far as I could, leaving only my eyes uncovered, watching you. The rest of me was stiff and frozen. You stood there, waiting for me to speak, waiting for the questions. When they didn't come, you answered anyway.

"I brought you here," you said. "You feel sick because of the effects of the drugs. You'll feel weird for a while. . . Shallow breathing, vertigo, nausea, hallucinations. . ." Your face was spinning as you spoke. I shut my eyes. There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars. I could hear you shuffling toward me. Getting closer. I tried my voice.

"Why?" I whispered.

"I had to take you." The bed creaked and my body rose a little as you sat down on the mattress. I dragged myself away. I tried pushing my legs to the floor, but they still wouldn't go. The whole world seemed to turn around on me. I was going to slide off. I pointed my head away and expected to be sick at any moment. It didn't come. I hugged my legs toward me. My chest was too tight for crying.