I felt pure tranquility and bliss before I even noticed I was beginning to wake up. My fingers attempt to reach the sides of the bed, rubbing against the softer than sin sheets. My body lets out little grunts as I continue stretching only to relax and continue being engulfed by the soft, fluffy bed. A pure, golden ray of warmth came through the window and rested on my face.
I have thick curtains covering my windows and my bed is positioned so that the sunlight never touches it. I'm not in my own bed.
My eyes open as quickly as my body shoots into a sitting position on the bed.
"It's about time you woke up. It's almost 8:30." My head swiveled toward the sound. Tristan's sitting begrudgingly on the couch across from the bed. With a coy smile on his face, he gets up to walk towards me.
"Where the hell am I?" My voice comes out as a full shriek. I'm too distracted to notice, too scared. Adrenaline kicks in and I lunge off the bed.
Tristan puts his hands up in front of himself, palms facing me. "You're at my house. You're in my bed. No, I'm not planning on murdering you. There are others home." An accent began to emerge, one I couldn't recognize.
"I need to go home, right now! Take me home or I swear to God, I will call the police and then continue to scream." With frustration and anxiety building up inside me, I tap my back pockets. No phone. I finally look down at my body. A fearful gasp leaves my mouth and a deep blush comes to my cheeks as I pull the sheets off the bed to cover my very, naked body.
Tristan must have picked up on the angry glow behind my eyes because he began to back up, creating even more space between us. "Your clothes were filthy and reeked like a bar. I was scared of never being able to get the smell of alcohol out of my sheets. There's a shower in there," he pointed to his right, "and fresh clothes and linens as well. I'll have someone bring up your breakfast while you shower." He had walked backwards towards the door until he was able to snake through before I even realized what was happening.
Naturally, I let out a scream/yell mixture until I thought I could taste blood from the back of my throat. I sit down with a thud against the wall and felt an aggressive flow of emotions coursing through my body: anger, frustration, embarrassment, and worse of all fear. I swallow against the lump in my throat, as if trying to keep the fear down.
I don't know why I was so stupid last night. I can only imagine a very mad Lizzie being convinced I was going to die.
My brain starts to turmoil through ideas of what I can do to escape as I start making my way to the white bathroom. My eyes widen as I stare into the floor-to-ceiling mirror.
My eyes are bloodshot, my mascara carried itself down my face with tears I didn't know I had shed, my blonde hair is completely bunched up on one side of my head. The luxurious gold accents in the bathroom make me look even worse.
I look... as expected for someone going through this sort of experience. What sort of experience was this?
Tristan, if that's even his real name, hasn't shown any hostility towards me (except for the kidnapping). I'm not holed up in some dank basement, but instead... a place I don't even think my own parents could have ever been able to afford. It doesn't look like I'm being kept in a cage... but looks can be deceiving.
I hop into the shower, the water coming out instantly warm. Craving another level, I turn the handle as far as it would go. The water stings my skin at first, but quickly begins to soothe my muscles. I began to grab the shampoo, conditioner, soap, and clean razor.
With the urge to get out of the shower quickly to focus on making a plan, I shaved from my knees down. A sharp pain cut through on my shin and, always seeming like a large amount, watery blood began to run out of the half inch cut.
Leaving the comforting shower, I turned off the water and began scrubbing my body dry. With a quick glance towards the mirror, I noticed that either my eyes were less bloodshot or the red of my skin cancelled it out.
I looked at the clothes left for me and immediately sneered. Nude panties were left for me and a bright, yellow sundress. It looked expensive and very different to the modest, dark clothes I typically wear.
Just put the clothes on to stay on his good side. Then escape.
Being the abnormally clumsy person I am, I opened the bathroom door quickly and hissed as I stubbed my toe. It wouldn't kill me, but it hurt like a son of a bitch. There's a howl outside my bedroom door and it immediately flies open, barely missing my outreached hand.
Tristan stands on the other side of the threshold. His eyes, which had looked grey yesterday but were now blue, had a wide variety of emotions. I looked away feeling fear trying to come back up.
"Grab your stuff. We're going out," he turns away quickly, seemingly shy all of a sudden.
"I don't have sh-" I stop with a wide eye look. "No, no, no. Nope. Not wearing those." I walked back to the bed. Tristan had turned around to grab a pair of shoes. They were a beige, strappy four inch heel.
"That's what women wear here. I want you to fit in. Please just do it." Tristan stayed calmed, almost as if he was scared of pushing too much emotion on me. "Just go sit on the bed. And if you kick me, I'll kick back." He winks, but his smile falters as he sees my scared expression. "I'm sorry. I was just trying to make a joke," he looked at the floor and scratched the back of his neck. "Please let me put these on?"
I just nodded and sat down. Normally, I hate it when people touch me or my feet. However, out of fear, I tried to keep my mouth shut. I almost succeeded. Almost.
"Is your name really even Tristan?" My voice was sharp. I could probably get away with pushing him a little bit.
He set down the first shoed foot and looked up with sadness in his eyes. "Of course." He finishes the other foot and stood up, taking my hand and helping me up.
"Where are we going?" If I know where we're going, I can try to find an escape.
"Shopping. You need clothes you actually like." He shrugs and proceeds to walk out the bedroom door.
I give quick words of encouragement mentally to my self, take a shaky breath, and follow Tristan out the door, another bout of anger taking me.
YOU ARE READING
A Little Heat
FantasyClare Jester is forced to leave everything behind after a strange man begins following her around. After her wealthy parents had died, she got used to people following her around and taking pictures of her; that was years ago. She tries to understa...