Psychopath (EDITING)

19

Opening my eyes, I prayed that I was back at home, in my nice warm bed in my rundown, yet homey, apartment. I hoped that this was all a dream. But fuck dreams. I'm still here, in his bed, his silk dark blue wavy bed sheet resting on my lap, his pillow underneath my head. I don't remember exactly how I fell asleep, last night feels like just a mere blur. My head is killing me, it feels like it's going to split in two. My throat has gone bare from yelling and crying, and my body feels so heavy.

Pathetic.

He hasn't come back in since yesterday. Everything has been weirdly quiet. Too quiet for my liking. Walking over to the window, I stared back out at the same tall building across from this one, completely blocking the view of the world beyond this place. Everything feels so close, and it feels like it is slowly closing in on me. Being so high up from the busy streets below makes things oddly quiet. So secluded. Perfect for a psychopath like him.

Looking at my hands, I see that they are caked in some weird grime of dirt and blood. Wondering where the blood came from, I looked further down to see that my wrists are covered in blisters and a blood saturated rash. I don't feel hurt, but I can't exactly feel anything at the moment. Everything just feels numb. 

Walking over to the other side of the room, I open one of the doors, surprised to find it unlocked. Inside, row upon row of hangers and drawers. Each shelf was neatly filled with expensive brands of clothing. Gucci, Chanel, Burberry, Louis Vuitton, & Balenciaga. Walking in, the smell of him covered the whole room. Picking up one of his suit jackets, I pulled it towards me and quietly smelled it. God, his cologne is so addicting. I definitely see why he wears it, no woman can resist a guy who smells this damn good.

Continuing my scavenger hunt, I pulled out one very thin shelf underneath his hanging clothes. Inside was about twenty or so fucking expensive watches. The amount of money this guy has spent on one damn watch is more than I have ever made in my whole life. Fuck, who needs twenty different watches? I don't even have one.

Silently and carefully closing the drawer, I continue searching through this guy's stuff. In the middle of the room, he has an island sort of thing built-in with more drawers and jewelry stands. At the back of the closet, he has a shelf with shoes arranged from top to bottom. Running shoes, sandals, dress shoes, he has it all. I admit, his taste of shoes is really amazing. Next to it, he has a huge wall mirror, stretching from the ceiling to the floor. Catching a quick glance of my disgusting appearance, I quickly move out of this room. As much as I want to go through his expensive, totally unreal, closet, I don't want to see myself right now.

Silently closing the door behind me, I head towards the door next to this one. Opening up, I walk into a huge bathroom. The whole bathroom is probably the same size as my fucking apartment. God, what the hell is this? Much like I kind of expected, this whole bathroom is black, with some accents of white and silver. Two vanities, two sinks, a long stool to sit on, a separate room with a giant jacuzzi tub, and another room with a sauna-like shower room. 

How can you even shower with the water raining down on you like that? But damn, a shower sounds so fucking good right now...

I mean, he hasn't come back since yesterday, and he couldn't even fucking give me some food, or even show me where the fucking bathroom was. He just left me. So fuck it. I'm going to use his shower, just to get all of this dirty and blood off of me, that's it. Normally, I would never ever use someone else's shower, or anything in that matter, without asking them, afraid of them getting mad at me. But at this point, I really don't give a shit. And I smell like shit.

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After having my extremely anxious and quick shower, I change back into my old clothes. Feeling better, I unlocked the door and went back into the room. 

And to my surprise, he was there.

Sat on the edge of the bed again, holding a pile of clothes in his hand, he looked at me with a smile on his face.

"Feeling better, baby?" He said, with a slight growl of approval in his voice.

"No, you fuck. I would feel a whole lot better if you just let me go home!" I argued back at him, mentally slapping myself across the face, knowing that my stupid attitude will get me in trouble.

Stephan just kept staring at me again. I started to fidget in my spot, feeling anxious from his piercing stare. With just his eyes alone, he makes me feel so inferior and terrified. I can see why he is in such a high position now. Everyone is scared shitless of him.

Blankly standing up, Stephan places the clothes he had in his hands and hands them to me. My stubbornness acting up again, I kept my arms where they are and refuse his offering. This seemed to trigger something in him, as he walked up right in front of me, his hands still outstretched with the clothes.

"Sarah, baby, please stop. Just take these and change. Your clothes are all dirty and wrinkled from spending the last couple of days in them. If you don't like this style or brand, I can buy you whatever you want. Whatever you want, baby." Stephan insisted, a smirk crossing his face.

"And baby, I'm going to remind you." He continued.

"You should really listen and follow what I say before I lose my temper again. I really don't want to get mad at you, baby. But don't test me either." He growled at me, pushing the clothes against my chest.