Despite it all, I still feel that frisson of excitement every time I hear his voice. I still smile the minute I hear the thumping of the speaker. And my heart still beats a million miles an hour every time I hear the sound of his velvety voice.
Six days ago, I began asking him to come visit me, and I’ve repeated my request every day thereafter. All I hear from him is the same response: “It isn’t time yet.”
“Why isn’t it time yet?” I would ask.
“For now, I can’t say. I just need you to trust me… To realize that this is for your own good.”
His response both frustrates and angers me. It’s been that way for days, but today things suddenly changed. I have become desperate for his contact, so I altered my request.
“I want you to come to my room… I need you to come to my room… I’m desperate for you to touch me… To hold me like you did that night in the little house… Please make it happen, J. Please?” All has been silent from that moment on. I have been sitting here, feeling my heart beating erratically for the last hour—ever since I pleaded with him.
My heart aches.
My body quivers.
My mind races.
My pulse speeds up more when I hear a noise coming from my door. Maybe he is just coming to feed me, but I know from the patterns to which I’ve grown accustomed that it’s too early for that. He has taken my watch from me, so I have no concept of actual time, but I have gotten used to relying upon my internal clock. And my clock is telling me that it is too early to be fed, so what could it be?
I gasp when I hear the tapping. That sound—the sound of footsteps—taunts me.
I clutch the sheets even more tightly to me once I realize the noise is getting louder. There is nothing I can do but sit and wait to see what will happen next.
Silence falls, and I watch the door like a hawk. I stare at the handle, which, for now, remains still. I swear that it, too, is taunting me. I swear it knows of my trepidation and is deliberately staying still just to tease me.
I hold my breath—biding my time—as I sit here, rigidly clutching the bedclothes. It feels like hours, but it’s only been mere seconds since the total silence began.
And then, it’s happening. I gasp again, clutching the sheets more tightly still as the handle on the door moves down, and the door pushes forward. For a fraction of a second, nothing happens. Total silence fills the room again as the creaking door comes to a stop. My heart starts hammering in my chest, and my body trembles as anxiety ripples through my insides and prickles my skin.
Nothing is there apart from the door—which is now ajar—and the slight shadow of his body as the light shines on the bedroom wall.
I remain seated, waiting in earnest to see what will happen next. Involuntarily, a sharp intake of breath floods my lungs and pains my chest when I see the shadow of one foot moving forward … then two. My eyes widen as I tighten my grip with both hands this time. My breath escapes in little wisps as the shadow increases its density. I gasp as I see a foot … followed by a hand.
And then…
He emerges.