Three Years(20)

Three months. I don’t believe it, and yet I know it must be true.

I wonder if Jase is looking for me. If he’s even alive. And Elliot…. Oh, Jesus. I wonder if Dornan’s found him yet.

And then, Dornan comes back, with a smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eye that makes me worry. He shuts the door behind him and places something on the table. A hand-held fucking Taser that looks like it could take a cow down. Awesome.

“I found your little boyfriend,” he says. “Elliot McRae, huh? He’s something else.”

I begin to sob brokenly. No smart-ass responses. No numb indifference. That look in his eyes tells me he’s satisfied. Did he kill Elliot?

It’s too much to comprehend.

“Why are you crying?” Dornan asks. “Tell me, or I’ll give you those drugs again.”

I don’t want the drugs. I’ve already started daydreaming about how delicious a shot of that stuff would be, how blissful, and I’m two or three doses away from being addicted to the fucking stuff.

“Just tell me,” I beg. “Did you hurt him?”

He sneers. “Not yet. I don’t need to anymore. I’ve decided on a much more fitting punishment to get back what you’ve taken from me.”

I stop sobbing and look up at him, daring to hope. “What?”

“Get up.” He eyes the Taser on the table deliberately and then glances back at me. “You don’t want to be shocked, do you Julie?”

I don’t. I stand. He didn’t hurt Elliot. Relief floods my body. He didn’t hurt Elliot yet. The yet is extremely disturbing, but I push that thought away, snapped back to the present by his demands.

“Against the wall.”

I’m empty of the will to fight. The little pills he is giving me are doing their job beautifully. They make me compliant. Somewhere in the darkest recesses of my addled mind I hear a scream, an urging to fight, but the syrupy medication that sloshes in my veins soon drowns that voice out.

It’s easier this way.

I walk slowly to the wall, turning and leaning my back against it. I stare at the floor in front of me, stained with my blood.

“Get your fucking clothes off.”

I hesitate. Not that. I raise my eyes to his and see the warning there. He reaches out and picks up the Taser, pressing the button so electricity sparks from the top of it. I jump, shrinking back against the wall.

“Hurry.”

I fumble with my shirt, pulling it over my head and letting it drop to the floor beside my feet.

“Keep going,” he says, making the Taser spark again.

Feeling my cheeks burn, I slide the sweatpants down past my bony hips and wiggle them over my knees, stepping out of them so I’m completely naked. The wall behind me is rough limestone, and I wince as the bits of uneven stone catch at the sores on my back from where the bedsprings have cut into my skin.

He stands, and places the Taser back on the small table. Approaching me, he bites his lip and grins. He stands so close to me, I feel like he’s going to suffocate me with his presence alone. I stare at his chin, level with my eyes, and wait to see what’s next.

I jump as his hands cup my breasts, almost tenderly. I grit my teeth as he slides the pad of his thumb across one of my nipples, making it spring to life. Touching me like a lover. I wish he’d just bash my head in instead.

Getting me undressed so I feel even more vulnerable? Signature Dornan move. I try not to tremble underneath his touch, but I’m terrified. Please, not that again.

He places his other hand under my chin, forcing it up so our eyes meet. The fingers playing with my left nipple move to cup my breast, and when he squeezes it hurts so much I gasp. That elicits a sneer from him, amusement dancing in his black eyes. He lets that hand trail down to my stomach. Thankfully, the bandage taped to the place where my tattoo and scars once lived stops him from dipping his fingers into the mess of missing skin, oozing blood, and possible gangrene. He brushes his knuckles down my side, stopping at my unmarred hip.

“Julie,” he says.

I don’t respond. I just hold his gaze, and in my head, think of something better, like Ferris wheels and kinder eyes.

“I finally decided what to do with you, Julie.”

I try not to react, but my body does it for me. Every bit of my exposed skin springs up into goose bumps, and I shiver in the cold.

I want to ask, what? What are you going to do to me? But I won’t. I refuse to.

He can tell, I know he can tell how desperate I am. He grins, taking both hands and holding them around my throat. Something dark flashes across his gaze and he squeezes, hard enough that I have to gasp in little sips of air.

So he’s going to kill me. I don’t drop his gaze, but I let my body relax. No point fighting it. He’ll strangle me to death, and then maybe he’ll bring me back to life if he’s in the mood. Maybe he won’t.