She Belongs to Me (Rewritten Version)

Chapter Fifteen

Vincent:

My elegant dinner was coming along nicely, despite the distracting sobbing that came from the living room, where Emily was bound in front of the TV.  I understood that she was upset with me for what I had done to her a little while ago, but that certainly did not give her the right to attempt to kill herself.

Did she not realize how selfish suicide was? 

I would have been devastated if she succeeded.

I was hoping that I wouldn't have to keep her tied up like a prisoner, but she left me no choice. There was no way I could allow her to roam around the house freely, at least not without my supervision.

I would have to make several changes to the house as well.  The knives needed to be locked up, the mirror replaced, all of the deadbolts changed to where I could lock them with keys on the inside, and the building of a soundproof room.

The night would be a long one, but the fruits of it would be well worth it.  I wanted to make certain that I was equipped to keep Emily here for a very long time.  I wished that I would've prepared sooner, but who could have seen this coming?

Dinner was soon set on the small dining room table, and the spread out looked better than anything a restaurant had to offer. There was a personal touch to it, a touch that showed my labors of love. I walked into the living room and switched off the television.  Emily's emerald eyes refused to look upon me. She was still pissed off at me.

"Cheer up, Emily," I took her chin into my thumb and index finger, forcing her to look at me.  "We're going to have a nice meal together. I made one of your favorite dishes, spaghetti and meatballs."

She remained silent, the color that had painted on her lips was smeared, and her cheeks were stained with the black mascara that had intertwined with her tears. She was a mess, and that would not do.

"Let's clean your face and put your dress back on.  I don't have any makeup you can use, but you'll look even more beautiful without it."  She flinched away from me as I used my hand to wipe the mascara and lipstick off of her face.  "Ah, that's better."

"Keep your hands off of me," She said, staring at me like she was about ready to chop my head off.

"There's no point in being shy with me, Emily. We went all the way. I know your body, and all that it desires." The statement may have sounded a little arrogant, but it was true. She could pretend all she wanted that she didn't enjoy herself.

"You're sick," She pulled her face away from me. "I can't believe I thought you were a good person."

Her words stung me deeply, but I had to remember that she was talking out of anger.  I brushed them off with a forced chuckle, then pulled a small knife from my pocket.  She let out a weak scream. 

"Relax, love.  I'm cutting your hands free so I can dress you."  I turned her around and edged the knife towards the neck tie that bound her hands, giving a small warning before I freed her.  "Don't fight me.  My patience with you has worn thin."

She stayed still after I cut her hands free, only moving to massage her own wrists before covering her nakedness as best she could.  "Please, Vincent, at least allow me to dress myself."

I pretended not to hear her, picking up her dress and gently putting it over her. Her panties and bra were left on the coffee table. She didn't need them. I took her by the arm and ushered her to the dining room, where our lovely dinner was waiting.