Page 67 of Devious Obsession
My breathing continues to come in short bursts. I stare at the darkness above me, my mind wandering.
You’re okay, I assure myself. It’s a complete lie, though. I rip at the bindings around my arms, jerk my feet. There’s another click, the bar locking and keeping my legs in their new spread position.
Seconds pass.
Then minutes.
My panic doesn’t ease. My heart doesn’t slow.
The longer I lie here, the more I’m convinced that this is cruel and unusual punishment—and for what? For leaving a snake in his bedroom? For telling his father about him? Which, that point is bullshit. I never gave his dad anything actionable. Never told him about the worst treatment Steele has given me.
Fire, I think. That safe word that lives in the back of my head. I say it out loud, but my tongue can’t get around the gag. It comes out as a muffled plea that could mean anything.
Fire.
Because we’re taught as little girls that if you’re attacked, no one will come running if you scream for help. But they will if you yell fire. People are selfish like that. They’re drawn into action by things that may hurt them. But if it’s you on the line?
Forget it.
I pant and twist and curl my fingers around the headboard, trying to get enough leverage to rip the bindings off my ankles. Or give my back some relief, because my ass is starting to go numb. I barely get my hips off the bed.
The door opens. It’s a little crack of dim light coming through, and then it closes again. My breathing stops. It’s a noise that was there, but now the room is entirely silent. Except for the footsteps that come toward me.
The bed caves. He climbs up over me and trails his finger up the inside of my thigh. I groan through my teeth. I can’t even make out his face, or his shadow.
It could be Steele, or it could be my father. I’m waiting for the flash of a camera. For the searing sharpness to temporarily blind me further. And I’m mumbling nonsense behind the gag. A string ofno, no, nos that fall on deaf ears.
Something heavy drops on my belly.
And then the bed lifts again as his weight disappears, and he retreats. The door opens, and he slips out, but there’s still something on my stomach. A second later, the overhead light comes on.
I raise my head.
A snake sits coiled on my belly, its tongue flickering out.
I groan through my gag, and a burst of adrenaline burns through me. Tears leak out of my eyes. I can’t stop them. The snake doesn’t seem interested in moving, but it watches me.
The light goes out, plunging us into darkness again.
I lower my head and close my eyes, burying my face in my arm. My breathing hiccups, my nose blocks. I’m an ugly crier—always have been, always will be. My skin gets blotchy and red, I get snot running down my nose, my face contorts.
That’s probably happening now.
Except with the gag, I can’t get a good breath.
Can’t seem to take in any breath at all.
On some level, I register the escalating panic attack for what it is. I’ve been slowly ramping up while I’ve been lying here, but this is the icing on the fucking cake. Hewantsto torture me—and he’s succeeding.
“Fire,” I attempt to say again. The safe word that’s supposed to be my ticket off this insane ride. But nothing happens, and I stay exactly where I am.
I blink, and I’m a kid again. Anxious, scared. My brain is playing tricks on me, making me see my old room. The purple comforter under my body, the stuffed animals that lined the bed next to the wall. I used to think they’d protect me, too.
My breathing is still ragged when the snake uncurls. It slithers lower, down over my abdomen. It drops down between my legs, and the feel of it sliding across my core is too violating. I shudder. My chest heaves, the fear dripping into my lungs icy cold. It freezes me from the inside out. My skin crawls—and my mind splinters.
I lean into the numbness, begging my brain to give up control. To not care that Steele is torturing me for his own sick pleasure, for payback. I just want to shut it off for a minute, or an hour, or a day. I just don’t want to be here anymore.
And my brain accepts.
