It had been a while since my last episode. Sometimes life didn’t taunt me, and so long as my cupboard was full, I was okay. But stress brought panic, and panic brought vulnerability.
A bite of an apple and a handful of salted popcorn.
Panicking when four kernels of popcorn fell from my hand to the floor, I dipped down and scrambled under the shelf for them, only taking another breath when I felt them in my palm once again.
The four dirty popcorn and two digestives. Washed down with a pint carton of apple juice.
A Mars bar stuffed in whole until my cheeks bulged and my nostrils strived to feed my lungs.
A pint of long-life milk, my stomach gagging at the sour taste.
“There you are!”
I swung around, throwing everything in my hands into the corner of the floor. I tensed when I thought about the food that was now sitting, waiting for me to feed my belly.
James, my boss, was leaning on the open doorframe, the open door that I had specifically closed so I wouldn’t be disturbed. He was drunk - very drunk. His eyes were bloodshot as he tried to focus on me, his swaying body making it even more difficult for him. One hand held onto the jamb as the other held a bottle of whisky.
“I’ve been looking for you, Kloe.”
I nodded quickly, the feel of the Twix in my hand making me tremble. My mouth watered as my heart rate went into panic. Panic that James would take it from me. That he would slowly eat it in front of me. That his manic laughter would make the chocolate swirling around in his mouth spit in my direction. I knew I would collect his spit on my finger and shove it into my mouth, just for one tiny taste.
“I’ll be out in a minute, James.” My voice was shaky, nervous and high-pitched with anxiety.
He took a step inside the pantry, stumbling down the single step that brought him closer to my hoard. My head shook as my eyes bulged. He couldn’t touch it. I wouldn’t let him. A small growl reverberated around my chest and I dug my nails into the soft chocolate hidden in my hand.
I reared back when he pointed a waving finger towards me. “Don’t be so uptight, Kloe. I want to talk.”
He pulled the door closed behind him. My eyes shot to him then to the door handle he held shut.
“What’s the matter, James? I’m coming. Go find Claire. She’ll find you a refill.”
Shaking his head, he took another step. “I don’t want Claire. Or another drink.” He held up his bottle, showing me the dreg in the bottom. I want to talk to you.”
I could feel the chocolate melting in my hand, the toffee and biscuit melding together and squishing through my fingers.
I flinched when his hand reached for my face, my eyes squeezing shut instinctively. “Relax.” He laughed. “You have something on your face.” His dirty thumb wiped at some food covering my face. I wanted to slap his hand away, yet at the same time I wanted to take his thumb into my mouth and suck off the food he stole from me.
“You’ve always been the pretty one in the office, Kloe.”
I tensed, hoping to God he wasn’t going where I thought he was.
“Those little tight skirts you wear, the way your blouses strain against your large tits.”
“James…”
He took another step into me, forcing me back into the wall. My heart was going crazy, the spike in my adrenaline not coping well with the sugar riding my bloodstream.
“What are you doing?” My voice wasn’t strong, which I loathed. It was weak, as cowardly as I felt.
His large hand came up to my throat, his fingers curling around the circumference of my neck. It wasn’t tight but enough to tell me he was warning me.
“I told you to relax, Kloe. Although, the way you torment me, the way you look at me…”
“I don’t… look at you like anything, James.”
He nodded, tightening his grip very slightly. “Oh, but you do. I’ve seen it in your eyes.”
Shaking my head I stepped further back, trying to get away from him even though the cold brick wall pressed into my back and there was nowhere else to go.
“So many times I have pictured bending you over my desk…”
Beads of sweat were rolling down my brow, my mouth drying as the moisture in my body leaked out in panic through my pores, the perspiration coating my palms making the chocolate I was still holding squelch through my crushed fist.
“…Lifting that tight, tight skirt. Your perfect arse would be covered in black lace…”
Nausea curdled in my gut. His hand tightened further, his excitement pressing against my jugular and into my stomach in the form of his sickening erection.
“Please, James…”
“You’d beg me to slide down your knickers.”
‘Beg. Beg me, Kloe. Beg and I’ll let you have a bite…’
My head shook when memories assaulted my mind, tears heating my eyes as vomit rushed up my throat.
‘Beg for that one, little bite, Kloe.’
The memory was so real I could smell the delicious aroma of that small piece of fresh bread, the crust still steaming and making my tummy growl – no, making my tummy beg and plead, and weep and scream out.
I was so lost in the past, my mind only capable of concentrating on the recollection of his face, of his smell and on eyes like the devil that I couldn’t feel my breath and consciousness leaving me with his severe constraint on my throat. Or on James’ other hand sliding up my dress, the trace of his fingers crawling up to my hips and twisting around the edge of my knickers.
‘Beg, Kloe. BEG!’
“Please!” I cried out, my eyes only seeing Brian’s cruel sneer and the sound of his vicious snarl. “Please. I…”
Gasping when the weight from his body over me and the constriction on my throat suddenly disappeared, I watched in shock when Ben’s fist connected with James’ face. He went down straight away, his body hitting the pantry door and sending him flying on his back onto the kitchen door.
“Kloe?”
I was gasping for breath, attempting to fill my empty lungs too quickly. Ben scooped me up, climbing over James’ unconscious body, and lowered me into a kitchen chair. Kneeling before me, he gently lowered my head between my open knees. “Breathe, baby. Come on.”
I sucked at air like a fish out of water, my lungs whistling as if thanking me verbally for the sudden rush of oxygen. My chest rattled as each gulp burnt my bruised throat.
“That’s it. Shh,” Ben encouraged as his hand slid up and down my back slowly. “That’s it, good girl.”
The room spun when I lifted my head. Ben’s smile comforted me, his face making me feel safe, just as it always had.
“What are you doing here?”
He looked affronted for a moment, a tight wince catching his easy expression and hardening it. “I brought over the rest of your stuff. Figured you might need it.”
“Thanks.” I smiled, trying to give him an apology with my eyes. I knew I was being a bitch but every time I looked at him all I saw was him and Sarah fucking.
The reality of what had just happened suddenly hit me and a sob bounced up my throat the same time as I tried to gulp at more air. The effect of that wasn’t good, but Ben managed to jump to the side when vomit hurled from me, everything I’d managed to eat in the last thirty minutes now a useless, wasted heap of food I could never get back again.
Ben winced, looking at it then at the melted chocolate in my hand. Frowning, he stood and walked into the pantry.
“Jesus.” The word was spoken quietly, but I heard the volume of disgust in it.
I couldn’t look at his face when he stood staring at me from the pantry doorway.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice broken.
“No you’re not, Kloe. Or you wouldn’t do this.”
“It’s… it’s not that easy. Not for you Ben. You don’t… you don’t know. You couldn’t ever know.”
“Then tell me. YOU TELL ME!” he cried, his fists clenching hard by his sides. “Make me understand
.”
Shaking my head as dry tears rolled from me, I shot up, flinging my hand over my mouth as my stomach forced out the fear and the pain from inside me. Ben didn’t follow me when I made a run for the bathroom. But the look of disgust in his eyes haunted my broken heart all night.
When I emerged an hour later, the party still in full swing, people too drunk to know what had happened to their host sixty minutes ago, Ben and James had gone.
And I walked back into the pantry.
16 cans of spaghetti hoops.
21 cereal bars.
28 tins of marrowfat peas.
38 gravy cubes….
“‘CAN I HAVE THE RED ball?’ Biff asked Chip. Chip… pic…picked up….”
I couldn’t hold back my huge smile as I listened to Anderson reading from where I stood in the shadows, trying to stay out of sight so I didn’t interrupt him.
As if he sensed me, he stopped and turned towards me. “Kloe.” His smile was as large as mine.
I’d called in sick for three days and it was my first day back. I still wasn’t sure what I was going to say to James. I had tried to bury it with all the rest of the shit in my head, just put it down to him being pissed, yet that didn’t help my nerves when I walked into Seven Oaks that morning.
“You came back,” he added quietly, almost as if he was telling himself that.
“Of course I did. I will always come back.”
Placing my bag down on the side, Margaret, Anderson’s tutor, gave me a smile and packed up her things, leaving us alone.
“You promise?” Anderson asked. He wore a frown as he waited for my answer, his eyes nervous but hard while he watched me slip my coat off.
“I promise,” I confirmed with a firm nod as I turned to hang my coat onto the hook beside his door.
I sucked in a quick breath when I was suddenly spun around. Anderson’s sharp, angry eyes blazed into mine when he suddenly trapped me against the wall. Every nerve ending in my body shot to attention, his unique scent of sage body wash he had chosen out of our supplies and his morning minty breath assaulting my senses. My heart rate peaked with both adrenaline and fear, and my legs wobbled with panic.
He appeared to be struggling with his emotions, his jaw trembling as his head shook from side to side. His beautiful green eyes swirled with rage, the tiny blue flecks glinting with warning as a wild snarl rattled in his heaving chest.
“And..Anderson?” My voice was breathless, shock making it that little bit higher than usual.
His stare slowly moved from my eyes, travelling down my face and coming to an abrupt stop on my neck. Like a reflection of his eyes, his hand moved upwards and very gently he trailed his fingers over my throat. The touch sent a ripple of goose bumps skittling across my skin, my breath deciding it didn’t like its chances and ricocheting straight back down my throat.
Shit!
“It’s okay, Anderson,” I stammered quickly, reaching up to put my hand over his.
His teeth sank into his bottom lip, the flesh popping under the sheer pressure of his fury. “Who did this?”
“It’s okay,” I tried again. I should have worn a damn scarf. I was stupid!
He shook his head wildly. “No.”
“I just….” Shit. Think! “Uhh.” I laughed. “Walking Dave. He has this ball on a rope.” I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Threw the thing and it got caught on my wrist. Flung back at me and wrapped itself around my bloody neck.”
His furious expression didn’t ease with my lie, the tangle of emotions he was feeling bursting in his eyes and in his trembling body. Yet, conflicting, he softly traced each bruise on my neck with the back of his fingers, his eyes tracking his movements as he studied the purple skin. His touch sent heat through me, scorching every part of me that he stroked. Breathing became difficult, each raspy breath coming in sharp pants as my heart clattered against my ribcage.
Another growl escaped him but this time it was with a completely different tone. The aggression was still there, but the rage and the anger were gone. Instead, there was a hunger, a desire that raged like a storm across his face.
His chest pressed against mine when his breaths came in perfect sync with my own, each quick, short but loud gasp for air a recital that echoed around us in rhythmic perfection.
His hand moved from my throat, up and over my chin and then across my cheekbone until he slid his palm into the side of my hair and bunched it in his fist. A whimper ripped from me, but it wasn’t in fear.
He secured me in place in every possible way. His tight hold, his fierce glare, his press against me, each one held a piece of me in the palm of his hand. I couldn’t move. And I didn’t want to.
“Kloe.” The roughness with which he said my name sent a shiver up my spine.
His face came closer, the tip of his nose a hair’s breadth away from my own. His breath caressed my lips as he very softly rested his forehead on mine. I was locked in the brilliance of his eyes, in the raging emotion that he couldn’t get a handle on.
“It’s no rope. There are finger marks.” As if to prove his point he placed his free hand across my throat and pressed his fingertips into each burst of blue circles. “Finger – marks, Kloe Grant.”
I wanted to squeeze my eyes closed, hide from him, but I couldn’t. He could see me whether my eyes were open or closed. “It’s…” I had to suck on my tongue to wet my mouth enough to speak. “Just… some scumbag after my bag. But I’m okay.”
He narrowed his eyes on me. His grip was still in my hair, his forehead still pressed to mine but his heavy breathing became even deeper, a softer growl making me gulp. He could see my lie; he could read it. Something dangerous glinted in his eyes and my knees buckled, my legs giving way underneath me. Anderson moved quickly, his arms coming around me before I hit the floor and he scooped me into his chest.
Carrying me quickly and effortlessly across the room, he then lowered me onto his bed. Confusion and concern erased the terrifying look that had crossed his face seconds ago.
He sat beside me, his eyes hard on me. “Did they hurt you?” His eyes dropped back to my neck. “Any more?”
“No.” I shook my head quickly and took his hand into mine. “Honestly. It’s nothing. I bruise easily. I’m fine.”
I flinched when he brought his hand to my face. He growled yet again, thinking my fear was directed towards him. But it wasn’t. Softly he traced the pad of his thumb over my right eye, and then over my left. His face was intense but his gaze had softened. “These,” he spoke softly. “Your eyes tell me you’re not fine. They show me you’re hurting. And not because of these,” he added as he yet again traced the edge of the bruises decorating my otherwise pale skin. Then his hand moved down, over my neck and came to rest between my breasts. “Here,” he whispered. “In your heart.” The touch of him, his soft fingers against my chest made my breath hitch. His eyes blazed when he caught the shift in my heartbeat.
“I…”
“Don’t lie, Kloe. Not to me. For so many years all I had were my senses, my instincts. They taught me many things and I came to learn to trust them.”
I nodded. It was useless lying to him. I knew it was. But I still couldn’t give him the truth.
We both jolted when a small knock came to the door. Anderson jumped upright, stepping away from me when Paula, my colleague, strolled in casually. The look on her face told me she’d witnessed the last few minutes through the small window to Anderson’s room.
She looked at me with caution in her eyes. “Boss wants you.”
My body tensed and I gritted my teeth when my hands started to shake as anxiety shot through me. Nodding, a little too wildly, I clambered off the bed and turned to Anderson. “I won’t be long.”
He stared at me with a small crease on his forehead as he studied me, but he nodded. “Yeah.”
Snatching up my bag I gave him a forced smile and followed Paula out.
Rounding the corner of the corridor, she halted and grabbed my wrist. “What
the fuck are you doing, Kloe?”
“What?”
“Don’t what me. You know damn well what I mean. What the hell was that in there?”
“I don’t…”
“He’s dangerous,” she warned, not waiting for me to give her another lie. “Dangerous. He doesn’t understand his emotions for one. His moods will be everywhere. Don’t misinterpret his reliance on you for something else. You should know this, Kloe.”
“I’m not misinterpreting anything, Paula. He’s a closed door, and if the only way to get him to open up is allowing him closer then that’s how it has to be.”
She shook her head, her eyes narrowing on me. “And you’re an open door, Kloe. You’ll end up getting hurt.”
“Paula, there’s nothing…”
I shushed when James came out of his office door and stood watching us both. My body stiffened with unease, my heart galloping. “Can I see you for a moment, Kloe?”
Paula, expert at reading people, slowly turned her head from James to me then back to James. There was a question in her eyes when they came back to me. “Everything okay?”
“Sure.” I sighed, braced myself and followed James into his office.
His smile was too wide, and his eyes mirrored that, glinting with something undecipherable when he saw the bruises on my neck. There was that hindsight to wear a scarf again.
“Sit down, Kloe.”
Without speaking, I did as he asked, sitting on the edge of the chair. My nerves were making my stomach bubble, acid and bile causing me to feel nauseous.
“Are you feeling better?”
I frowned.
“You’ve been off ill.” He lifted a bushy eyebrow. I imagined blowtorching the fucker off.
“I’m fine.” My tone was as harsh as my glare.
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