Possession(17)

Nodding their heads, they get in my car, and Drake joins me in his. “Drive,” he orders without another word.

The driver obliges, and we are quickly on our way home. Drake doesn’t say anything for a while. I can tell he’s pissed as hell and trying to rein himself in. I know that monster inside of him is just itching to get out.

After an agonising few minutes, Drake decides to speak. “Why?”

I sigh before replying. “I wanted to get away for a while. Somewhere where nobody knows me and knows I belong to you. I wanted some space.”

Finally, he turns his head to me. I can see the fire in his eyes. It should scare me, but it doesn’t. “And that involved going to a bar and having some arsehole drool all over you and call me fucking names?!” He shouts the last word and it makes me jump.

“I didn’t invite him to talk to me. He just appeared and started asking me questions. I didn’t want him there. I just wanted some space.”

Sliding over to me, Drake grabs my chin and pulls my head to him. “When is it going to get into that head of yours that you belong to me, and what I fucking say goes?”

I should feel fear, but all I feel is anger. Hot, red anger. “Why is it so necessary to own me? Why not some other girl? Why me? I can’t do anything without your say so.”

He squeezes harder and gets closer to my face. “Damn fucking right too. In less than four months, you will be in my home, doing everything that I fucking say.”

I try shaking my head, but he holds it still. I can feel the tears brimming at his words. I know what he says is true. I know I can’t escape him. But I can’t help wanting to fight him at every turn. “You were wrong about not being a monster. You are a monster.”

I see when those words hit home. He doesn’t like that I’ve said this. “You may think I’m a monster, but I’m your monster. Can’t you get that through your head?”

“No. I hate you. You’re a vile, despicable monster, and I hate you,” I seethe. I’m rattling his cage, and yet I can’t seem to help myself. I’m so pent up with frustration, rage, and pity. Yes, pity—for myself and this shitty position I’ve been borne into.

“You want to see how much of a monster I can be? Do you?” In one quick yank of my legs he has me beneath him and crushes his lips to mine. “Do you want to push me, Evelyn? Do you want to see just how fucking monstrous I can be?”

He starts sliding my skirt up and yanking at my panties. “No!” I scream. “No, Drake. Stop. Please stop!” He doesn’t listen. With his other free hand, he places it over my mouth and tries to pull my panties down. Flailing my arms and legs about, I try hard to get free, but he’s too strong. In my fight, I somehow manage to grab his hand and bite down hard on him. I hear when he screams, and finally, he’s off me.

“Stop the fucking car!” he orders.

The driver doesn’t hesitate. With a screech of his tyres, he comes to an abrupt halt at the side of a deserted road. No one is around. All I can see are trees around us and black … nothing but black.

Maybe if I run inside, the black would surround me and take me away from him.

With a violent tug on the door handle, Drake gets out, punches the car, and roars his frustration. He starts pacing as he threads his hands through his hair.

“Is everything okay?” I hear a voice coming through a walkie talkie. It’s obviously one of the guys in the other car.

The driver picks it up and says, “Everything’s okay. Just give him a few minutes.”

“Understood.” I hear the click and look out at Drake again. I’ve never seen him so mad.

“Are you okay?”

Snapping my head to the driver, I feel a tear run down my face. I only just now notice that he’s the cute guy from the cinema the other day. I nod my head. “I’m fine.” He hands me a tissue. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“What’s your name?”

“Kane, ma’am.”

I dab my eyes with the tissue he gave me. “I noticed you at the cinema the other day. You’re new.”

I see him smile in through the visor. It’s a nice smile. “That was my first day on the job.”

Nodding my head, I turn my attention back to Drake outside. He’s leaning on the boot, smoking a cigarette. He must be really stressed as I hardly ever see him smoke … if at all.

Seeing him standing there—looking so angry—should make me angry too. He just attacked me in the back of the car in front of his new driver. But why is it that I feel I want to go to him? Why is it that I feel I need his forgiveness? I should need him to ask for mine instead, but I don’t. None of my emotions make sense. I should want to run, but all I feel is this overwhelming desire to get out of the car and go to him.