Against My Will

Chapter Four - Lilies

     I couldn't move. It was dark but I wasn't scared. Moonlight came in from a nearby window, illuminating the room in a silvery haze. I was laying on my back, something soft and velvety underneath my uncovered arms, which were actually above my head. I tugged them down.

     Something from the opposite direction kept my wrists in place. Restricting them from moving. I turned my head.

     Frayed ropes were tied around my wrists. The other end of the rope was tied around a wooden post. A bed post. I was on a bed.

     Cold air swept across the room. Goosebumps bubbled along my flesh. When had the window been opened? I lifted my head to look around.

     Lincoln was standing at the foot of the bed. Dressed in all black, mask on his head. But the mask did not hide that hungry look in his eyes.

     I screamed.

     Lincoln crawled onto the bed. I attempted to kick my legs out, but they were tied to the two posts at the bottom edge of the bed. I was spread-eagle in nothing but a - white bra and white underwear? These were not mine. I did not own white lingerie. But I could not think much about it anyway; Lincoln pressed a hand firmly on my stomach.

     He positioned himself on top of me, straddling my right leg. I squirmed, panicking, breathing fast. Lincoln shoved his knee in between my legs at the juncture of my thighs. Then both of his hands gripped my waist, his long fingers digging into my ribs.

     "No!" I shouted, closing my eyes and throwing my head back into the pillows repeatedly.

     He stopped. I opened my eyes.

     Lincoln's hands left my midsection. They went into the air, moving fast, until they latched around my narrow neck. His thumbs pressed into my windpipe, cutting off my flow of oxygen. My eyes bugged. Coughs and scratchy gasps flew from my mouth.

     Breathe, I told myself, breathe!

     The room darkened. My vision blurred. My throat started to throb painfully, the haunting ache of Lincoln's strength.

     And then all at once the room blacked out to nothing. Hardly a second passed before my eyes snapped open.

     Sweat trickled down my temples in rivulets. My breaths were heavy, quick - at least I could breathe.

     I looked around. I was in the little room I had woke up in the day before. Lincoln was not standing at the bottom of the bed. My arms were not tied down.

     A sob wrestled out of my throat. I was safe.

     Nightmares weren't my thing. I knew what was real and what wasn't. Not many things scared me. Never had I dreamed about boys. So when I had a nightmare about Lincoln it was like hitting the lottery. A really bad, really scary lottery.

     I pushed myself up, wiping the perspiration from my body with the soft sheet. Morning sunlight danced through the boarded windows.

Boards?

In a haste I scrambled off the bed. My foot got twisted in a blanket snare, nearly tripping my movements along the way. At the last second my hand caught the window ledge, saving my balance.

Outside, where I had no chance of yanking them away, were four long, thick wooden boards. They were nailed in horizontally, light peeking through the borders.

I was not an animal. I should not be caged in some room to be kept like a pet by a psychopath who didn't know how to treat other humans respectfully. Were the nails not enough?