Detached

CHAPTER 40

*MEERA'S POINT OF VIEW*

“Come on, Baby doll, it’s fun, you’ll like it. I’ve played lots of times. Take the gun, take a deep breath and then pull the trigger,” Smith insists, waving the gun towards me again.My whole body is shaking as I wring my hands, ignoring the pain in my wrists caused by the deep cuts I’d made there the week before. I feel nauseous.

Smith raises one eyebrow. “Come on, we’ll make a deal. You wanted to die last week; if you die, then you’ll be getting what you wanted. If I die, you then can go free, and if neither of us dies, then you’ll stay here with me. Forever,” he suggests, grinning wildly.

Silent tears fall down my face as I look at the shiny, little silver gun balanced on the palm of his outstretched hand. “That’s not a deal! I don’t have a choice!” I cry.

“You have a two in six chance of not being here with me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he retorts sarcastically.

“Please don’t make me do this, Smith. Please?” I beg. He sighs and moves the gun; using two fingers, he spins the cartridge.

As I realise that this is my only way out, I silently pray that either I die or he does,because the alternative, staying here with him, doesn’t bear thinking about. Fear runs through my veins, causing my hands to shake violently. I watch as he pulls some kind of straw out of his pocket, bends towards the table and the line of white powder that I’d watched him make, and snorts it all before grinning at me wildly.

Because I’ve not moved, he rolls his eyes and points the gun at his own temple. “I’ll go first,” he states, as if this is an everyday occurrence.

I hold my breath. He smiles and winks at me as he pulls the trigger. Vomit rises in my throat, but nothing happens, the gun doesn’t go off. Overwhelmed, I turn to the side and am violently sick over the expensive-looking rug.

He smiles at me tenderly, clearly planning on ignoring the fact that I’m still retching. “Well then, I guess the best you can hope for is that you die, Baby doll,” he states, shaking his head sadly. He holds the gun out to me again, nodding encouragingly. I raise a shaky hand, and whimper as my fingers close around the cool metal of the gun. Smith’s hand closes over mine as he guides the gun up under my chin. I swallow, feeling the hard metal pressed against my skin. “You can do it, Baby doll.” The tone of his voice is kind and loving; it doesn’t match the fact that he is making me pull a gun under my chin. I take a deep breath and pray for death. I don’t want to stay here. “Count to three,” he whispers.

“One… Two…” My voice is shaking as I count slowly. My heart stops just before the last word comes out as a broken whisper. “Three.” I pull the trigger.

CLICK.

“I guess you’re mine to keep now, Princess,” Smith gloats. His eyes are dancing with delight as a large, lopsided, drug-induced smile creeps onto his face.

I sat bolt upright as my piercing scream tore through the air. Riyansh’s T-shirt was stuck to me where I was sweating. My lungs were tight so I couldn’t breathe properly. I just couldn’t get enough air in, so it felt like I was suffocating.

Seconds later, the door burst open, slamming against the wall loudly. “Meera! Shit, it’s okay, Princess, it’s okay. I’m so sorry, I fell asleep on the sofa, I’m so sorry,” Riyansh cooed. My eyes widened in shock as I looked up at him, still struggling to breathe. He sat on the bed and wrapped his arms around me, rocking me gently. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep out there, I’m sorry,” he whispered, stroking my hair.

I couldn’t focus on anything other than my dream and the crushing horror that was eating me up inside. Smith. Smith’s face. His voice. His wicked smirk. His excited eyes. All of it swam before me, taunting me, hurting me, killing me.

Vomit rose in my throat, so I clamped one hand over my mouth and shoved myself out of his arms. I staggered out of the bed and ran for the bathroom, barely managing to make it before I emptied my stomach into the toilet. While I was being sick, Riyansh rubbed my back and whispered soothing words. I pushed on his legs, pointing to the door, signalling for him to leave.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” he stated, getting a washcloth and wetting it, before placing it across the back of my neck as I retched and retched.

I squeezed my eyes shut, gasping for breath. Why that one? Why did it have to be that dream? Other than seeing Ankush die on that fire escape, this one was the worst dream that usually haunted me – because right after the incident with the gun, Smith had pinned me to the floor next to the pile of my own vomit and had taken my virginity.

My whole body was shaking as I wiped my forehead, sitting back on my feet as I gasped for breath.

“Calm down, Princess. Take deep breaths and calm down. Everything’s fine, I promise you,” Riyansh whispered, adjusting the cool cloth on my neck.

My chin wobbled as I looked over at him sitting on the floor next to me. I could see the pain on his face; he looked helpless, like he didn’t know how to help me. At that moment, my body reacted instinctively. I whimpered and threw my arms around his neck, holding him tightly as I sobbed against him.

He groaned, wrapping his arms around me and rocking me gently until I finally managed to calm down. When he moved to pull back, I shook my head in protest, clamping myself against his chest. “Don’t leave,” I begged. I couldn’t let him go anywhere. I couldn’t go back to dreaming like that again every night, I didn’t want to be without him.

“Meera, let go,” he whispered, reaching up and unclasping my hands from his neck.

Rejection made my eyes sting as I clenched my teeth together and dropped my eyes to the floor. As he stood up, I realised that this was entirely my fault. He was leaving because I’d pushed him away by not trusting him. I’d pushed him out of my life, and I was now going to have to deal with the consequences of that.

Instead of leaving though, he bent down and slipped his arms around me, lifting me easily off the floor and holding me tightly against his body. I looked up at his face, shocked as he pushed the bathroom door open and carried me over to the bed.

Wordlessly, he laid me down and curled around me protectively. Not daring to hope that this meant what I thought it meant, I burst into another round of sobs and scooted closer to him, burying my face into his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Riyansh. Please don’t leave, please?” I begged, clutching him tightly.

He stroked my hair. “I’m not leaving,” he murmured, kissing the top of my head. My heart skipped a beat at his words, and I pulled back to look at his face to check if he was just saying that to calm me down. “I’m not leaving,” he insisted, kissing my forehead and cheeks.

“Really?” I whimpered. He nodded in confirmation as he bent and kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes, and a small smile twitched at the corners of my mouth as his words sank in. “I’m sorry,” I croaked.

“I know. It’s alright. Just go back to sleep. I’m staying right here, I promise.” His arms tightened around me as he rested his chin on top of my head. Closing my eyes, I pressed my face into his chest and let his smell waft over me. My heart seemed to slow down as the dread and loneliness slowly receded. As his hand stroked my back softly, I realised that I actually loved Riyansh’s smell.

I woke in the morning trapped underneath him. I was on my back, and he was lying on me, his head on my chest, his arms either side of my body and his bottom half between my legs. He was heavy, but, in a weird way, it was actually a pleasant weight. A quick glance at the clock told me it was only six thirty; I could let him sleep for another thirty minutes. I wrapped my arms around him and ran my fingers through his messy, black hair.

Shame washed over me because I’d doubted him at the gym by thinking that he’d hit me. I should have known better and had more faith in him. My eyes raked over his handsome face and I felt the frown slip onto my face. I was so attached to him already; I really shouldn’t have let this guy past my defences. It scared the life out of me that I needed him. I deliberately pushed everyone away so that I would never have to feel loss again, but I’d felt it last night. I had known him just a week, yet I’d felt it when he’d walked off, and this dependency would only get worse.