Page 125 of Venomous Desires

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Morning light seeped through the curtains, dragging me awake. I sat up, feeling every muscle protest, and looked around the room. The silence was heavy, oppressive. He was gone. And still not back. I was glad. And too relieved that I almost forgot my foot was sprained and tumbled as soon as I placed it on thefloor.

I caught myself on the edge of the bed, biting down a curse as the sharp pain shot up my leg. I looked down and winced.

My foot was swollen.

I hobbled toward the window and pulled the drapes back slightly to let more light in. The city outside was just beginning to stir, oblivious to the nightmare I was living. For a second, I wondered what it would be like to just disappear into the crowd below, to blend in and be forgotten.

But that was a fantasy. The reality was this room, this pain, this gnawing emptiness that followed every clash with him.

Letting out a deep sigh, I turned around, wrapping the towel tightly around me. This wasn’t helping either.

I was about to walk to the bathroom when my gaze drifted to the table where a small box lay. I wouldn’t have noticed it, but that there were three more large bags beside it, I just couldn’t ignore it.

A small part of me hoped it was all a bad dream, that if I reached for it, I’d find a way out. But deep down, I knew better.

I took a breath and forced myself to walk again, favouring my uninjured foot.

My fingers brushed over the box, and as I opened it, my breath lodged in my throat. It was a phone. Brand new.

Why did he leave me a phone after breaking mine? The man was bipolar, to be exact. He did things his way, however he saw fit, and it never bothered him how much his actions could cause someone pain.

Emotionally unstable man.

My hands clenched around the box as I grabbed the device. The screen lit up, but there was nothing—no messages, no missed calls. Just a clean slate, just like a mockery of the life that had been wiped away. I set it down, feeling more alone than ever.

What would I do with it? Play sudoku?

So he was here. And the fact that I must have been sleeping with just a towel wrapped around, was both horrifying and astonishing.

He must have left these. Anxious, I ran my hand through the hair, wincing at the reality. What had my life become? I just wanted to study and get a job to support my family and this…. Judas ruined everything.

And he wasn’t even sorry for that.

Before the ache in my chest could intensify, I grabbed the other two bags and opened them rather roughly. And to my surprise, there were clothes. Judas mentioned Kyle would bring some clothes. Did Kyle leave them, or was it Judas?

At this point, I hardly cared.

I opened one, pulling out a plain sweater that a tag of a luxury brand and a pair of jeans of the same brand. And there were more sweaters, coats, and some socks, too. Except for anything to wear underneath.

The bastard forgot to buy me undergarments. Or did he do that intentionally?

Oh, and there were no shoes or flats. He wanted me to roam in the apartment barefoot.

Heaving a sigh, I limped to the bathroom.

I had no right to cry about the clothes. I should be glad he even left me some. That apathetic man could flip like a switch, and who knew if he’d decide to take these clothes back? I couldn’t afford to roam around the apartment with nothing on. Something was better than nothing.

I walked to the shower, all while avoiding looking myself in the mirror. I knew what I’d see, and I knew I wouldn’t like it. I’d definitely break down. So I preferred washing myself quickly.

The hot water scalded my skin, but I welcomed the burn, letting it seep into my bones as if it could wash away thethoughts clinging to me like a second skin. But they stayed, persistent and invasive, curling around my mind like vines strangling the last of my peace.

Would he ever let me go?

The question circled, gnawing at the edges of my sanity. I had college to attend, assignments piling up like a mountain I could no longer climb. His... unorthodox obsession, it had to be temporary, didn’t it? But what then? What would happen when the allure faded, when he grew tired of this twisted game? How would I ever catch up on the life I was supposed to be living?

A shiver cut through me, sharp and cold despite the heat of the shower. I needed to approach him, but with caution. He’d hinted at giving me a sliver of freedom, though not in words. It was more like a whispered promise in the way he acted—as if I was of no use to him beyond the bed.