02: Touch
His touch was firm but gentle all at once. His calloused hands grazed my skin but I couldn't help but let him soothe me when he rubbed my arm in a gentle way. I didn't want his touch to be something yearned for. And it wasn't. Under normal circumstances maybe it would have been. But under these circumstances, everything about him was terrifying. His breath touching my face. Terrifying. His hand on my arm. Terrifying. But he wouldn't move his hand from my arms. I instinctively shook him off to which he didn't react in anger as you would expect.
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Stockholm Syndrome
General FictionI didn't want to. I wouldn't. I won't. But suddenly I was doing it. I didn't even register my feet hitting the fourteen steps it took to get up the stairs. My brain ignored the ninth step and how creaky and loud it was. And then I was there. Finding...
