The feeling of how close he was as he towered over me.
While I stood, not facing him, sobbing, in the middle of the living room, he stood behind me after giving me a half hour by myself.
He was so close I could feel the heat of his body creeping onto my frozen skin. I got cold when I cried so hard.
My hand was shaking.
I turned to face Luke, trying to resist ramming my fist into his stomach angrily. I wasn't strong enough to resist hitting him and I was blindly lashing out, probably not landing any hits. Everything was blurry.
He let me hit for a moment before I felt the touch of his hands going over my balled up fists. I whimpered, trying to pull away from him, not wanting to enjoy the sensation of him holding me. But he held on and I had to go against my better judgement and force of habit not to allow myself to sink into his chest.
I kept flailing my arms as he held onto my hands, gazing down at me with a look I assumed was pained sadness.
YOU ARE READING
Stepbrother (Sequel to Stockholm Syndrome)
General Fiction"I just want you to know how terrifying it is to have no control. Like, physically, no control over what happens to you. Nothing. Being at the mercy of someone else's hand." The look he gave me was glazed over with pain. "The thing is, you aren't th...
