I can't remember how long I stayed in the bath, which is odd for me. I've always been one to count how long things take. The bath at home takes 28 minutes and 19 second to fill up completely. But I felt so relaxed and safe I lost track of time completely. Michael had already been in and washed my hair and yet I couldn't bring myself to get out of the bath. I just lay there surrounded by the warmth of the water. The smell of the vanilla reminds me of Grace. It was one of her favorite smells. Oddly I don't feel sad when I think of her. I smile remembering her. Its different, but nice.
I finally get out wrapping a towel around my body and trying to find my room. The house is far too big and I easily get lost. I end up back in Michaels room. He's not in here and I need clothes. I decide to open a draw and grab a top. I pull it over my head quickly dropping the towel from underneath. The hem reaches my mid thigh and the neck seems lower than on tops I usually wear. My wet hair surrounds my face as I pull on a pair of boxers. Its an unorthodox feeling, but strangely it feels nice. From Michael's room, I walk into the kitchen where Michael is sat.
"Thank you for washing my hair. I borrowed some clothes, I hope you don't mind. I have none of my own that are clean." my voice is quite but stronger than before. I don't feel scared to talk to him anymore. And I like that.
He assures me its OK and requests for me to sit down with him. I agree and sit on the sofa next to him. A blanket is placed on my body and a body is pressed next to mine. He's warm and nice feeling. Nice has always been a very bland word. And yet when I use the word to describe him, it seems more colorful. It has more meaning that just "nice"
There was something on the TV. I couldn't tell you what. But it was there. Sometimes that's how I feel. No one really pays attention, but I'm there. And Michael was now the person who would flick through the TV and settle on me. He'd get bored soon enough. Probably when he realizes he can't have sex with me. Most boys are like that. But for some reason I didn't want him to change the channel on me. I wanted him to keep watching the shitty reruns of episodes He's seen 20 times before. I want him to be the person who messages the writers, begging for new episodes. I want to be his favorite TV show. I want to be his.
YOU ARE READING
Castaway ۞
FanfictionIn which a man is infatuated with a girl, so much so that he is willing to do anything for her. How much is too much. WARNING: This story contains mentions or suicide and self harm. If you are not comfortable with these subjects, please read at you...
