The Forgotten Queen

This Is Not A Love Story

My eyes fluttered open once again, but I wasn’t at my house. Nope, I was at the house, of Mark, my kidnapper’s son. Sadly, my memory was untouched and it was no problem remembering what happened. ‘Well isn’t this just peachy?’ I groaned in my mind, hastily I sat up and was immediately put back down, from a Sharp pain in my shoulder, I hissed in pain and tossed on the bed. A hand rested on my arm and I took deep breathes. “Its okay, Claire, I’m here,” that voice, o how I’ve missed that voice, it gave me the courage to open my eyes and I saw Mark sitting on the bed, and an image of his father flashed before me, making me shiver. Before I could even speak, Mark hugged me and choked on his words “I-I thought you were dead,” I felt my heart break. “I know, I am so sorry. Come on, its okay,” he pulled away, his bloodshot eyes, stared into mine, his chocolate eyes, were coated with tears and something else, it looked like longing and determination, but for what? “You’re not stopping me this time,” before I could comprehend what he was talking about. His lips were on mine and I was kissing back, passion and longing seeped from his lips and I returned the favor. We broke and as much as I wanted him to continue, I had a mission on hand. “Better?” I asked, “Much better,” he smiled. He pulled back and sat up. “You have a lot of explaining to do Miss lady,” he exclaimed, “Yeah, yeah I know,” I said not really wanting to. “But for now, get some rest,” I looked at the clock, ‘9:00pm, good lord I’ve been unconscious a while now.’ I stated, ‘No, duh,’ I answered myself. I guess I can’t argue with Mark. I am exhausted. Simply nodding, I lay back on the pillow, “I’ll be on the couch if you need anything,”
“No-“ before I could even protest, Mark replied,
“Claire, please,” immediately, I kept quiet. He kissed me on my cheek and fatigue took over.
My child, join me
Join me
Join me
Join me or betray me
My mothers voice rang in my head I saw images of her, Will, The Queen and Mark. I tossed and turned trying to wake up but it was like someone was suffocating me in my dreams. A feeling of pressure was removed and I flew up out of breath and sweating, I tried going back to sleep but I just couldn’t. So I went downstairs, and as I got up off the bed I realized what I was wearing as I made my way to the door. Mark's red flannel, it was long, just enough to pass my mid thigh and the sleeves passed my wrists.  A slight smile spread on my cheeks but it felt like I had just opened a dried wound. I walked to the mirror and though it was dark the subtle moonlight through the blinds were enough for me to see my battered body. Scratches up my arms and legs and that bullet wound through my shoulder was still there covered in a bandage, I wondered if the bullet was still wedged in there. The bullet on the dressing table, confirmed my suspicion. ‘Maybe I could use this as evidence,’ I thought picking up the bullet. Setting it back down, I took one more look in the mirror and realized my face was covered in black and blues and scars formed on my neck. Looking away, I started towards the staircase, quietly, made my way down the stairs. Mark was on the couch, quietly snoring and he looked so cute with the blanket wrapped around him only showing his nose and eyes. As carefully as I could I climbed on the couch with him and he barely woke up. Just enough for him to go around on the couch and open his arms for me to cuddle with him. He draped the blanket over me and went back to sleep.
‘Claire, as much as you love him, you need to stay focused. Those men are still looking for you. You have to protect Mark, from his own father. You have to tell him Claire, you have to,’
I looked at Mark and I made that thought a vow. He hugged me tighter and I soon feel back to sleep. 
Waking up, I faced away from Mark, but he still kept his arm around me tightly. Realization hit Mr and I realized I had to start investigating again, this is not a love story. I tried pulling myself away from him but he held on tighter. “I need to use the bathroom Mark,” with that he loosened his grip and I darted for the bedroom upstairs. As quietly as I could I searched the room for my clothes. Finally finding them I washed up a bit in the bathroom, and went back downstairs to find Mark still sleeping. I walked over to Mark kissed him on his cheek and left. Reaching home, I turned on the television to find out that I was reported missing and pronounced dead. “Well, isn’t  this just great,” I stated, “not like anyone would care.” I turned off the television and went upstairs to take a long, hot shower. Letting the hot streams of water wash off dirt and dried blood. I just felt to melt and go down the drain and then disappear into the oceans. I stepped out and dried off, getting g into a jeans and a sweater, throwing my hair into a messy bun. Heading downstairs, my stomach grumbled and realization hut me once again. I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in what felt like weeks. So I decided to treat myself, I headed out and to the café where it all started. Walking in a memory of what had first happened hear made my stomach churned, again. ‘Please not now, I just wanna eat,’ I whined in my head, taking cautious steps into the café I found myself in the line. ‘So far so good.’ Glancing around in the room, I got strange looks from people, but just smiled and nodded at them, they probably think I’ve  through some kind of abusive relationship. Continuing to look around, the door on the café opened, and the bell rand, drawing my attention to the men coming in and I swear. I was going to cry. My heart skipped a beat and it was too late, they saw me.