Page 19 of Love Obscene
Every time I told him he was hurting me, he hurt me a little more. If I fought back, he got a little rougher.
I wore myself out and gave in to him. There was something inside me waking up, something that enjoyed the way it burned when his grip was too tight, and the bruises he left behind that proved this was real.
Chapter Seventeen
Heleft some time after midnight and had yet to come back.
I figured out the door was locked later that night. There was nothing I could do but pace around the room, wondering what was going on.
I couldn’t pinpoint what was happening, but when the sun came up, there was a subtle shift in the air. The dead silence had been replaced with the dogs occasionally barking, a lawn mower running, and doors opening and closing. It was as if the house had been at a standstill and was suddenly animated again.
Yet, there was no sign of Mason.
Pulling the heavy drapes to the side, I stared out the arched window. All I saw was a meticulously landscaped yard surrounded by tall trees. Where in Redwood were there houses of this size with so much land?
Nowhere.
So, where the hell was I?
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I walked to the bed and sat down. The whole situation was still surreal. I still had zero answers. All I’d figured out thus far was that Mason decapitated people for fun and used sex as a weapon.
If that’s what it was. I always told him to stop, but that’s not actually what I wanted. There was something about being hurt by him I secretly enjoyed.
Damn, I was a fucked up individual. And the blonde he killed? Once she was dead, I was more horrified that I wasn’t horrified, justifying it by knowing there was nothing I could do to save her.
I hated this feeling of being torn right down the middle. The second our eyes met, Mason infected me like an airborne pathogen. Whatever was manifesting between us was dangerous. I wanted him, but I was supposed to hate him.
That’s what was expected, right? None of the girls in the documentaries felt more at home with the man holding them captive than they had with their families.
Stop comparing yourself to other girls. You aren’t like other girls.
Pushing off the bed, I wandered into the large closet. Staring at my reflection in the large mirror hanging on the wall, the bruises Mason left behind were fading, and aside from that, I didn’t look much different than I had before he took me.
All the clothes surrounding me seemed to have been handpicked by him specifically. I hated the colors red and yellow; my mother only bought me clothes in those spectrums. There wasn’t a hint of them anywhere, hung up or on a shelf.
He knew so much about me it should have been unnerving, but I considered it endearing that he put so much effort into making me comfortable.
Why can’t you just accept him?
“He’s a murderer,” I mumbled, running my fingers through my hair.
He’s special.
Walking back into the room, I eyed the white roses on the fireplace mantle.
The pretty white flower was a constant reminder that it was him who thought about me often enough to load up my hospital room with flowers and balloons. Enough that I always got a delivery on the days I felt the worst.
Sure, it could be considered insignificant and meaningless to some, but it mattered to me. A man that took the time to have that done couldn’t be all bad.
The law of attraction was clearly at work, because not a second later the door swung open and I was staring at Mason. He stood in the doorway, holding a giant white bag, smirking when I glared.
“Did you miss me?”
“No,” I quickly responded, hoping my voice didn’t convey the truth. His growing smile told me he wasn’t fooled. I didn’t miss him exactly, but I wasn’t ashamed to admit that I loved not being alone.
Since he took me, he never left me for long. He stepped into the room with a serious expression replacing his grin.
“I’m sorry I locked you away.”
