Unlovable

Chapter Six: Mouse and Man

"I love you," Harold said to her, his hands skimming underneath the thin lace of her teddy.

The candle light sent brilliant flickers of light around the room making it a romantic's paradise. Darcie smiled up at him and pulled him down to her, kissing his lips softly.

Harold pulled the fabric of her nightgown down, kissing her shoulders and neck gently.

"I love you," she repeated to him, letting her fingers trail down his bare back, her nails digging into him.

She moaned in pleasure and he grinned as he entered her. Harold rode her in waves, bringing her to her peak of pleasure. Then, without warning, his fingers came around her throat and he squeezed, stealing all the air from her.

Darcie clawed at his hand, trying to breathe, but his grip only tightened.

"How could I love you?" he whispered in her ear as she struggled beneath him. "You're unlovable."

*~*~*

The early morning sun burst through the windows, shedding its warmth and light over Darcie's face.

She jumped up in bed, her nightmare way too vivid in her memory. Momentarily, she had forgotten where she was. She gripped the corners of the hard, wooden bed with one hand and rubbed her hands over her eyes with the other.

For the life of her, she couldn't find the light switch in the dark bedroom the night before. Now she could see why.

The only light in the room came from a brass lamp in the corner. The room itself was scarcely furnished, that much she could tell from the moonlight. It contained a single, dark wood bed, a nightstand and a dresser, all manufactured from the same stained wood.

Darcie looked down at the quilt she held to her chest.

It smelled of Downy, which helped her come to the conclusion that it was recently washed. She found the quilt itself comforting and beautiful. The patchwork had been done with care and patience, in blues, greens, and a color that reminded Darcie of lilacs in first bloom.

It was obvious, even to the untrained eye, how much time and effort was put into creating such a magnificent piece of art.

She folded it down and placed her feet on the hardwood floor, wishing instantly she had brought her slippers in from the car.

Darcie felt the morning chill from the crisp mountain air waft through unsealed seams in the windows. She wrapped her arms around her bare arms and headed toward the bathroom.

In contrast to the rest of the cabin, the bathroom seemed as if it belonged to a five star resort. The tile, although old, had been installed carefully and was free of any cracks or blemishes. The double sink was on top of lovely opal cabinetry and finished with attractive granite counter tops. Darcie smiled at the clean, white claw foot bathtub.

As a child, the thought of a claw foot tub was always accompanied by princesses and knights in shining armor. She asked her father, before his untimely passing, if they could have one, too. She wanted nothing more than to be a princess.

Her father had smiled and patted her head, telling her she would always be his princess, but maybe someday she could have a princess tub. It was a shame it took over ten years for her someday to come.

Darcie ran her fingers along the clean ceramic, smiling to herself at the memory of her dad. She bent over the tub and turned on the faucets. She tested the water with the palm of her hand, letting it run through her fingers, before turning on the shower and stepping inside.