After a while, I feel it move underneath my hand, and I step back.
He casually opens the door, staring at me with an uninterested look and an aloof attitude. “Hyun … Finally come back, have you?”
I ignore his taunt. “You came into my house, didn’t you?” I say, and I show him the cigarette, which I’d conveniently stuffed into my left pocket.
He narrows his eyes while looking at it then he focuses his attention on me. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I know you’d do anything to get me back,” I reply.
“You stupid girl … do you really think I’m that stupid? Causing a scene in front of your neighbors?”
“You have the police in your pocket. What’s stopping you from breaking in and entering my home to steal me away again? It’s not as if it stopped you before.” I sneer.
“Not when people could call the news.”
“Oh, so there is something that holds you back … bad publicity.” I scoff.
He sighs. “Did you just come here to accuse me of leaving a cigarette in your home?”
“Don’t lie to me,” I hiss.
He leans in and grabs my arm, his grip strong and painful. “Let’s get one thing straight here,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m only letting you live there because you made such a big deal about being separated from me. I’m trying to show you what a true gentleman I can be by giving you what you want. But don’t … test … my … patience.”
Each word comes out as a restrained yell.
“Let. Me. Go,” I say, trying not to let my voice fluctuate.
I won’t show him any weakness. I’m way past that point.
“Or what? You’re going to call the cops? Last I checked, you came to my home.”
I jerk free and take my gun from my right pocket, pointing it at him. “Stay back.”
I walk backward as he holds up his hands. “No need for violence, Hyun.”
“Shut up!” Violence. Like he doesn’t know he’s the violent one.
Manipulative bastard.
“I’m keeping an eye on you … Hyun.” His voice is so low, so dark, that it makes my skin crawl.
He’s a liar. A deceitful devil. One day … I’ll prove it to the world.
“You can’t keep running away from me,” he adds.
“Don’t try to stop me,” I hiss, and I turn and run away, still clutching the gun.
Turmoil fills my head as I make my way back home, barely able to keep my mind on the road. When I’ve finally parked my car in my driveway and get back inside, I sink to my knees against the door. I breathe in and out, but nothing I do slows the beating of my heart.
I scream and get up, marching toward the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine. I pull out the cork and drink from the bottle. I don’t need a glass when I’m in this deep.
I spend the rest of the evening drinking and watching game shows on TV while trying to forget about this whole ordeal. I don’t even care whether I get drunk or if it’s bad or not. I need this. For just one moment, I’d like to forget all the bad stuff.
So I drink until I can no longer see straight, which is when I decide to go to bed.
Too bad I can’t even walk without stumbling into everything.
And as I try to grab the empty bottle so I can throw it in the trash, I fall over my own feet and land headfirst on the table.
I black out.
I don’t know for how long but, goddamn, does it hurt.
My head aches, and when I touch my forehead, it feels wet. When I bring my hand to look at it, I see blood.
But I’m too drunk to care. Too drunk to move. Too drunk to help myself.
And as I feel myself fade again, I hear a creaking noise and something tugs at my arm.
I don’t know how much time passes before I come to my senses again.
But somehow, someway, I ended up in my bed with a Band-Aid over my wound. And with my clothes removed and wearing a fresh smelling nightgown.
I blink a couple of times to try to make sense of it all. I don’t remember getting up or taking off my clothes.
That’s when I notice a dark figure looming in the corner of my bedroom.
Part II
The Transformation
7.
Accompanying Song: “Hungry Like The Wolf” by Snow Hill
Drake
I watch her wake up from across the room. She’s been in and out of it for a while now, but her eyes haven’t looked this sharp since. She’s finally seemed to notice me.
I hold my breath and watch the shock seep into her veins.
It’s strange to see her look at me like that. When we finally come face to face.
Maybe I shouldn’t have stayed. Maybe I should’ve left. But that’s not what I did.
I wanted to watch over her, take care of her, and make sure she’s all right.
And she sure doesn’t seem all right.
She clutches the blanket and pulls it up toward her neck, trying to hide the skin underneath. Then she looks down at her chest, and I know she realizes I changed her clothes.
I didn’t do it to be a pervert, even though her body is a sight to behold. It’s thrilling, but it’s not what I get off on. I get off on her knowing I’m there, watching, fantasizing about her.
But this time … she didn’t even see me coming.
I admit breaking into a house isn’t exactly something that can make a person trust you, but since the door wasn’t locked, as usual, I just let myself in. I knew she’d do something she’d regret.
I’ve been watching her the entire day, following her wherever she went in my car, but when I saw her going to that man … I knew she was in trouble. So I stayed with her and even sat down on a stone in her yard beneath her window to keep an eye on her all night. But then I heard a loud bang, so I went inside and found her lying on the floor with blood on her head.
Of course, my first instinct was to help her. Anyone would do that.
But it also gave me an excuse to stay with her. To be by her side like a bodyguard.
One who stalks her in the night.
I step toward her, and she swallows, clearly nervous. However, her vulnerable state only makes her that much more attractive. She needs me.
I lick my lips and say, “Did you read my notes?”
She nods softly, her skin tinted pink.
Her face is so pretty to look at up close. I miss it every second I’m not near her. I don’t know why I’m so infatuated with her. I’ve never felt this way for a woman … Maybe it’s because we share something no one else does. Something secret between us.
Or maybe it’s because she was already taken … by a monster.
And I want her for myself.
I breathe through my nose and make a fist, forcing myself to turn away before I let it go too far.
“Where are you going?”
Her soft voice pulls my heartstrings.
With my hand on the doorjamb, I linger and wonder if I should stay.
“I can’t stay …” I reply, my voice heavy and full of worries. “It isn’t right.”
And with those final words, I leave her home.
Talking isn’t my thing anyway.
***
Accompanying Song: “Come Say Hello” by Superhumanoids
Hyun
I’ve been staring at the ceiling the entire night.
I didn’t close a single eye. I couldn’t sleep. Not with the thought of having him watching me from the corner or outside like he always does.
Should I be worried? Probably.
But he never came back. Even though I wished he would.
Because when I laid my eyes on him, I couldn’t take them off him. My gaze was instantly locked on the piercing blue eyes hidden beneath thick brows, and even though most of his face hid behind a hoodie, I could still see the sharp features, the angles in his face, and his square jaw with a little bit of scruff. When he too
k a breath, the muscles in his chest tightened, and I could see each and every line. Like a sculpture so perfectly crafted.
So … sexy.
It’s wrong, and I know it, but still … I can’t stop myself from thinking exactly that.
I feel like I want to invite him in.
With him as a protector … I could definitely live.
It’s nuts. Completely nuts. But I didn’t even care that he’d changed my clothes for me and put me in bed. It didn’t feel threatening. Granted, it was kind of strange to realize he’d done it after the fact. But it still doesn’t feel … dangerous.
Greg is dangerous.
But with this guy … it’s different.
One thing’s for sure, though. I’m probably going to see more of him now.
The next morning, I get up with a pang in my stomach and a roaring headache, but I’m determined not to let my mistake from last night ruin the rest of my day.
So I drink a glass of water and put on my sweatpants to go outside. After all, I have a mailbox to check.
With a stupid smile on my face, I open my door and traipse outside in my flip-flops to check the mailbox. And just as I expected, a note is stuck inside. The sight of it excites me. I don’t know why.
It’s bad. It’s wrong. It’s dirty.
It’s all the things my mother would forbid if I were still living under her roof. I’m glad that ended a long time ago.
I’ve never had anything this … arousing happen to me.
It’s quite exhilarating, and I tuck the note into my pocket. Then I look around to make sure no one saw me, and I quickly go back inside and shut the door so I can be alone with my little secret.
I open the envelope and take out the note, eagerly reading the typed out words.
She picks up my note and sits down on the edge of her bed, licking her lips.
It compels me to do just that, so I walk to my bedroom and sit down, wetting my lips.
She’s so beautiful when she touches her neck, letting her fingers glide down her chest. I wish I could have a taste of her sweet skin.
My fingers instinctively follow the words on the paper, brushing my skin ever so slightly, the tickling sensation arousing.
I watched over her, day and night, saving her from herself as she drinks the nightmares away. I still remember every single second as I peeled away her dress and witnessed her naked body, taking my breath away.
My hand automatically travels to my breast, and I squeeze from excitement. I’ve never felt this dirty … this sexy over something so wrong.
She was ripe for the plucking as I laid her in bed and watched her drift into a dreamless slumber. Her eyes flutter open, and those dark, rich eyes stare at me for a moment. The realization that she knows hits me. I’m here. I will always be here. Like a silent guardian in the night.
My skin flushes pink from the heat scorching my body as my hand travels down between my legs.
When I left, I needed a cold shower. I ache for her so badly that I can’t shake it off. Literally. And now … these notes are the only way I can express myself. Let her know I’m here. Let her know I care. Let her know I want her … so fucking badly.
“I feel it …” I murmur as my fingers dive into my panties. I don’t know why I’m touching myself. I just gave in to my body’s needs.
Now, she sits on her bed. Touching herself while thinking about me. She fondles her sweet, innocent pussy … because I want her to. She circles her clit and pinches softly, imagining my fingers are toying with her.
Automatically, my fingers play with my clit as instructed. They move by some innate need. Instruments of the dirty composer … and I’m all too eager to give in.
She feels herself, owns herself. She takes back what belonged to her all along. She’s sexy. And she will be mine.
“Yes …” I moan, my voice heady, intoxicated.
My fingers are inside me, and it’s been so long since I last pleasured myself this way. It was forbidden under Greg’s command. But I’m no longer his. I’m my own woman now.
I lick my lips and speed up the pace as I let myself go. God, I feel so dirty. So horny. So damn good.
She caresses her nipples, which tighten under her grip, and she imagines my mouth latching onto them, suckling them one by one. But what she doesn’t know … is that I’m watching her through the small gap between her curtains. And as she flicks her clit until it pulses, she climaxes with a moan so loud her neighbor could hear.
The moment I read the words, I come.
I don’t even care that I just read that he’s watching me. I’ve gone too far to stop.
A long, drawn-out moan escapes my mouth as I rub myself into bliss. And it feels incredible. Liberating.
Until I read the rest of the note.
The man who bought her knows.
He knows where she goes. What she’s always dreamed of.
He watches her … day and night.
He’s angry and bitter and wants her to come back.
He knows all the bad things she’s been doing behind his back.
He also knows he could never satisfy her needs. She needs a man who will protect her. A man who could give his life.
But he is more important. His wishes are her command. His rule was her life.
To him … she’s nothing but a whore.
I gasp and look away. I don’t want to read any more. My high comes crashing down immediately, and I get up and walk to the window, checking to see if anyone’s there before I close the curtains and scowl.
I’m confused. Is he trying to make a fool out of me with this note?
Or has Greg secretly been writing these notes and tricking me all along?
I thought it was my stalker … and maybe it is … but what if they’re working together now? What if this is all some ploy? Something to get me to trust them, so they can frame me, or make me do something stupid …
So they can murder me in my sleep.
8.
Accompanying Song: “A Reflection” by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross
Hyun
3.5 months ago
I’ve been able to hold Greg off for a few weeks now. I’ve been cooking his favorite meals for him, cleaning the house until it was spick-and-span, even making myself out to be the perfect wife, all while pouring in the drinks until he got drunk so he’d keep his hands off me.
I’ve been walking around the house in flimsy dresses and sky-high heels to appease him. It fades in comparison to what I had to wear for Max’s wicked game that one day during dinner … or rather, what I didn’t wear. But still, it feels like I’ve become nothing more than an accessory.
My husband treats me like just another one of his conquered prizes. Every single day, he finds a reason to tell me this. He also loves it when I dress like a hooker. There’s occasional ass smacking, along with pinches and laughs, even when his friends are watching. It’s humiliating and degrading, but it’s nothing like when he gets in a bad mood, which is something I want to avoid at all cost.
However, today I may have given him a few too many drinks.
He’s stammering, going on and on about how I’m such a whore because I had other boyfriends before, even though I only had one, not multiple.
But Greg doesn’t believe that.
He never believes a word I say.
God, I wish I’d never told him anything about myself.
“Liar!” he yells as he always does.
And in his wild swinging to get a hold of me, he smashes the glass of whiskey on the ground. It doesn’t even faze him.
I try to pick it up, but he tears himself away from the couch and towers above me while screaming, “You fucking bitch. Look what you made me do!”
He smacks me across the face, and I take it.
I take it because I have no choice.
Because calling the cops is useless.
And if I did anything to stop him … he’d kill
me.
I touch my face and acknowledge the pain quietly.
“You always ruin everything. You couldn’t just save yourself for me. You had to go and fuck all those boys. What did you want with them, huh? You wanted their money too, didn’t you? You’re a filthy gold digger.” He spits on the floor, and some of it lands on my hand.
“You’ve never even given me one ounce of gratitude. I saved you. I gave you everything you needed. Money. Clothes. A home. A husband. And how do you repay me?” He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. “You never even kiss me. What kind of wife are you?”
“I am yours …” I whisper. “Please … don’t hurt me.”
He grimaces and then grabs my arm, twisting it painfully. “You’re coming with me.” He pulls me up and drags me along with him. We stumble up the stairs, while tears form in my eyes, but he’s fixated on only one thing.
The bedroom.
I can see it from the way he looks at me, the primal urges.
He won’t wait any longer.
Fear washes over me as he throws me into the master bedroom, slams the door shut, and locks it behind him … trapping us both inside.
With no way out, I close my eyes, letting a final tear roll down my cheeks. Then I block everything out.
***
Accompanying Song: “Hungry Like The Wolf” by Snow Hill
Dirty Wife Games Page 5