by Sara K
Clara came out of the bathroom wiped her face on the towel before glancing around the empty room. Where was Michael? And how long had she been asleep? She wouldn’t find the answers to her questions in the room, she didn’t even know how long she had been here or whether it was day or night, Monday or Thursday. She felt like a kidnapped victim who had no knowledge at all about how she had gotton to this place. Her back was stiff and her side was painful. Clara took of the shirt and stood in front of the long mirror naked. Her skin was pale from lack of food; the bruises were nearly fading but not quite gone yet. And she looked as though she had lost a lot of weight, she hardly remembered when she had eaten last, she told herself it didn’t matter. It mattered hell of a lot if she wanted to live. Clara looked around for another one of his shirts. Where the hell were her clothes? She signed, frustrated that men were such idiots in not knowing that women needed clothes, she bet Michael didn’t even want her to wear anything rather than his shirts that left her legs bare. She had no underwear and no clothes at all. She could not live in his home and wear his shirt that barely covered her. Where was her dignity in that, then she remembered that her dignity and her self-respect and self-esteem were stripped away from her leaving her with nothing. She was a poor girl with no home, no money, and worst of all no clothes, she wanted to throw herself out the window and end the worries that nagged at her.
She reminded herself it was just being homeless that was a real issue but the fact that she was dragged into this home, met Michael, and knew the details of his life. He was not human. She was not sure she was either. Did her bizarre power put her into the human category? Probably not. He knew everything about her but what did she know about him? She remembered their conversations what had he said. He was not a vampire but an immortal and she was his mate, the other part of his soul. She did not believe in it. He also mentioned how she had connected with him, and destiny played a part by joining them together. He had heard her cries and entered her dreams every night. Clara would not deny that because whether she liked it or not, it was true. She remembered his face, very beautiful and the dark midnight hair. There was only one word to describe him. Angelic. As well as breath taking to be around with.
Shaking her head in disgust for thinking like that, Clara crossed the room, opened the cupboard, and drew out another one of his shirts. She slipped it on, finding this one a little shorter than the last one; she quickly combed her hair and tied it in a ponytail.
Shoes. She needed shoes. She gave up trying to find her shoes and left the room quickly; if she wanted to get away, she needed to hurry before Michael came back. Clara padded down the corridor and went down the stairs, when she reached the bottom a wave of dizziness made her reach for the banister. Clara held on tight, taking several breathes to calm her nerves. She wondered why he kept the windows covered by the thick curtains then she remembered he could not go out in day light. Clara glanced around the huge lobby eyeing the modern furniture, her eyes caught the oak door which was the entrance to leaving, she hurried and turned the knob, the door opened freely and despite the sickening feeling inside her and rushed out into the open and froze.
There was no sunlight, but darkness. There was still forty-five minutes until sunrise; the grass tickled her feet, making her wish for a pair of flat shoes. With a final glance at the house, Clara continued walking down the path, through the wet grass until she was on the main road. She was unfamiliar with where she was, and had no idea where she would go. She could go back to the farmhouse, check on Brett, apologise for her behaviour, and hope he would forgive her. After fifteen minutes of walking, she was nowhere near her destination; she stopped again feeling that dizziness again due to lack of food. No car had passed her or pedestrian. She saw the sky brighten a little; a sound of a car from behind caught her attention. She hoped the driver would pass and not notice her. To her dismay, the driver sounded the horn and she turned around to see a brown truck pull up beside the road. A man in his forties, with an unshaven beard rolled down the window, making Clara shiver as he eyed her up and down.
“You want a lift, darling.” He shouted out the window, finding it strange that a young woman would be out at this time of morning when the sun had not even risen yet.
Clara faked a smile. “No thanks, I’ll walk.” It was a lie because she had no energy to walk any more. She was cold and tired and this man looked kind. But that could be a lie too.
The man looked down at her bare feet and took in the shirt she wore that exposed her bits, he felt excited just looking at her. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and tried to look worried.
“Well, if you say so, but I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone any bad man can come and you know.” He paused. “Why don’t I give you a lift it’ll make me feel better knowing that you were safe?”
Clara thought for a moment, it was the only choice she had if she delayed longer Michael might be on her tail trying to find her. Clara glanced around her surroundings looking for familiar landmarks. But there were none.
The man thought she wouldn’t agree, since she didn’t answer and then he saw her walk closer to the truck, her breasts juggling a little as she moved closer to the truck.
“Ok, where are you headed?” she asked.
“Jump in.” He opened the passenger door and she entered uncertainly. Clara shut the door and stared at the man. The truck smelt of cigarette making her wrinkle her nose. She folded her hands in her lap feeling self-conscious.
“I’m Barry.” He glanced at her sideways, taking in her pale face. “What’s your name?”
“Call me CeCe. Where are we headed again?” She did not see him staring at her legs and picturing those legs around him. Barry shifted uncomfortably in his seat and gripped the wheel tight. Having a pretty, half-naked woman in his truck aroused him very much; the last few he had, begged him to take them as they shrieked in pleasure at the back of his truck. This woman next to him was different from the rest; he wandered if she was running away from something or someone, a boyfriend probably. He thought of her suckling on him, stroking him as he came into her mouth over and over again. Shit Barry stay in control he told himself.
“Um, I’m going into town.” He answered her question. “But if you like to go somewhere else, just say the word and I’ll do my best to find it.”
Clara thought about where she wanted to go, to Brett or into town. “There’s a little farmhouse in Bentley, do you think you can find it?” An idea suddenly came to her. If she went, back to Brett's she could quickly gather her stuff put on some clothes and leave when he was out.
“Sure, darling. I’ll try my best. I’ve been there once. I think but if I get lost don’t you worry I’ll find it. It might take longer, though than if we went into town.” Barry gripped the wheel tighter trying to control his hands from grabbing her and ripping apart that shirt she wore. Again he looked down at her legs quickly. Holy Shit, she turned him on by exposing her body to him, not deliberately of course. He had picked up a sexy, beautiful bird and all he can think of is being over her, in her and making her cry out his name as he drove her harder. The thought caused his erection to throb between his legs, crap, he wanted to open his flies, and perhaps let her decide. With one hand on the wheel, his free hand rested on his thighs as he breathed deeply.
Clara nodded tiredly and rested her head at the back of the seat. A sense of uneasiness entered her. She started to regret the decision to leave Michael’s house.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what you doing at this time of morning?” She heard him ask.
“I do mind actually.” She replied abruptly. When Barry didn’t answer she shook her head apologetically. “Sorry, long story.”
Barry wondered what kind of trouble she had gotton herself into, he didn’t care anyway. “No problem.” He shrugged his shoulders simply. He didn’t always ask his women their life story, it was too depressing to listen to, and he didn’t give a fuck about their personal history. He gestured to the little b
ag of doughnuts and two cups of coffee. “Take those you must be hungry.”
“Thanks.” Clara said, reaching for the brown bag. She was starving and the doughnuts were delicious, full of jam and cream. Barry smelt the aroma in the truck and glanced at her, seeing her chew the doughnuts hungrily, damn she was hungry, and he wanted to ask her if she was hungry for sex. He watched her gulp down the two cups of coffee and put the rubbish in the bag, he saw her open her legs and place the brown bag on the floor between her legs, and he didn’t see any sign of underwear beneath her shirt, smiling to himself he kept his eyes on the road. The pictures of the woman next to him clear in his mind.
Clara felt a little better after the snack, a newspaper caught her attention, and she asked him if she could read it. On the second page, the printed story caught her attention, her eyes widened with shock, and her hands felt numb. In bold writing, the headline read Farm tragedy as horse kills master. Another heading read 'Murdered man found in barn' it was the picture of Brett that caught her attention; she quickly read the whole story, horrified. According to the reports, Brett’s body was found by a local neighbour in the barn; the police believed that the attack was deliberate and very vicious. Another theory was that the horse knocked his master unconscious, which led to his death. Clara scanned the article and found that this took place yesterday morning that meant it had not thing to do with her knocking him down in the bedroom. She was not there yesterday, in fact had not been at the house for the last four to five days. That meant that Brett was fine and recovered until someone murdered him, she did not believe the horse had anything to do with it, it was ridiculous to suspect an innocent animal of killing. The question that haunted her was who killed Brett? Did he have enemies and why now when she had left him? It puzzled her deeply, she stared at the picture.
“You alright there?” Barry interrupted her thoughts.
Clara faked a smile and turned several pages to the sport section. “Fine, my favourite team lost.” She lied gesturing at the team players who looked dismayed. “It’s such a shame.”
“Oh, I’ve never been much of a sports person, once I played football with the lads and lost, didn’t think I was suitable.”
Clara hardly listened to Barry as he ranted from topic to topic; her mind was on what she had read in the paper. She had just told Barry to drop her off at the farm but what would she do there? It was a crime scene now, sealed by the police. If she were to enter she could be arrested for questioning. And may have to spend time at the police station, after all she did live at the house and would be likely the first suspect in Brett's murder. Besides all her stuff and belongings were in her room. Clara glanced out of the windscreen at the clouds that poured buckets of water accompanied with a strike of lightening; she felt her heart being weighed down by something heavy, something unusual. Even from sitting inside the warm truck, she could not help the feeling of dread overcome her. Instead Clara rested her head back and watched warily the water dripping on the windscreen. Ten minutes passed in silence and then the truck stopped abruptly, nearly sending her through the windscreen, worriedly she glanced at Barry.
"Shit!" he shouted. "I think I've taken the wrong route. It's so damn hard to see in this weather." In a way Barry was glad of the rain, he squinted again as he drove down the narrow bend in the country lane. To reassure the girl sitting next to him, he smiled apologetically. “I promise I'll get you there. All right. I think there's a detour, somewhere around here." Barry bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from laughing aloud, as the girl agreed to him. He had a feeling this would be easier than he first thought. He knew exactly where he was heading, straight into the near woods, where he'll park his truck and do what he wanted. Barry was very excited; he was never excited this much before. A short while later he drove over a large boulder and the truck lost control and nearly hit a tree, Barry quickly turned the wheel, and the truck came to a screeching halt.
"What happened?" Clara anxiously asked. They had stopped in the middle of nowhere. She had no idea of their surroundings since the windscreen was blurry as more rain toppled down.
Barry stroked his chin, unconcerned. "Ah seems like wheels are stuck in the mud." He turned off the ignition and turned to face her, his eyes resting on the buttons of her shirt. He did not think he could wait, didn’t everyone tell him that he was a sex manic. Then he was pulling at her shirt with both hands, until two buttons were torn off, Clara let out a shriek and pulled back.
"What the hell are you doing?" she yelled at him, smacking his hands away. She couldn’t believe this was happening, she should never have accepted a lift from him. He could be a murdered or a rapist, yet she knew nothing about him when she got into his passenger seat. Stupid, stupid
"I'll make this good for you, baby?" he sneered at her, his hands pulling apart her shirt whilst she held the edges together desperately.
"Get off, you jerk?" Clara cried she didn’t think she could hold him off any longer; he was already coming at her, his leg draped over hers to prevent her from moving. There were already tears brimming in her eyes. If she screamed, no one would hear her. She was certain of that.
Barry hated it when women whined and complained, he was very angry now and fed up that she didn’t want him. His leg pressed harder on her thighs making her cry out in pain, his hands tried to wrestle to pull apart her hands. "Come, on. I haven’t got all fucking day, I know you want this, and I'll make it good for you."
Clara spat in his face. "You bastard, you sick pervert." That was when he hit her hard across her face. Once. Twice. Until her head fell, back and she clutched her cheek.
"No bitch, fucks around with me." he snarled, pulling apart her shirt, until the buttons tumbled down on the seat, with one quick movement, he sat in her lap shaking her shoulders. "I know you want this, good and hard I bet. Look at the way you're dressed." He pushed apart her shirt, rubbing her breasts with his fingers.
"Nice. Very nice." He grinned down at her, feeling her breathe heavily.
"Please don't." The tears flowed down her cheeks; she felt his weight on her lap, his hands touching her in places she never wanted anyone to touch. He was squeezing deliberately, she felt him shift on her lap and lower down his trousers.
"You are nothing but a whore." He spat at her, his words cruel and harsh. "I can easily notice a woman who wants sex. Like you." his pants came off. "Standing in the middle of the road, not even dressed properly." He laughed. "What do you call that? Huh. I'd say you were seeking for trouble."
Clara stirred again, she knocked her elbow in his face, she quickly reached for the door and threw it open, she didn’t worry about the downpour or their surroundings, and she just needed to escape. Barry saw the door flung open and he smacked her again, his hands clasped over her mouth. She felt him then, right between her legs. It was a horrible feeling, she moaned against his hand, she couldn’t let him do it, and she was powerless. A thought occurred to her; she stopped crying and parted her left leg over his, she saw the satisfaction in his eyes.
"That's good, baby. Now just relax whilst I do this." He knew she would like it eventually.
Clara saw the opportunity to roll on to her side, as she flung herself to the wet ground, it happened ever so fast, she heard Barry swear, and then she hit the ground and felt the rain and coldness touch her. She didn’t waste time catching her breath as she she rolled further away from him, the leaves and the mud stuck to her body, she shivered and sobbed loudly. It was then that someone pulled her hair.
"Got ya bitch." He grinned and pushed her on the ground, pinning her.
"Get off me." she shrieked, thrashing her arms around.
For the first time she screamed repeatedly as he punched her in the stomach and yanked at her hair. Clara sobbed loudly; it was useless because no one would hear her screams. Suddenly the weight on her was lifted off and she heard footsteps, then something crashing against the truck. She couldn’t move to see what had happened, except Barry was no longer on top of her. She craw
led into a little ball to warm herself up at the sudden chilliness. The rain thundered down soaking her to the bones.
Then the explosion happened and she heard the most distressing screaming ever that seemed to go on forever. Clara crawled away, her hands clasped tightly on her ears to block out the sound. Few minutes later, everything was still, and the footsteps were closer to her, very close. She didn’t dare look up, but kept her arms wrapped firmly around her head and hers tightly shut.
"Clara." He called her name, she recognised his voice. So he had found her. She didn’t have the nerve to look up. His voice was very close to her so close that it fluttered her heart. She felt him kneel down, his hands rested on her back and she moved herself away.
"Leave me alone, please." Her back was to him, she felt him tense and move forward. She didn’t want him here to witness her vulnerability and her stupidity. When will she learn her lesson and stopped trusting people?
"I cannot do that." Michael said furiously, he was burning with rage and anger, but he knew if she saw those emotions she would run away. She was already scared and frightened; her sobs tore his heart out. He did not want to cause her more pain. "You had put yourself at risk and in danger. I am not happy with you-"
"Well, tough." She said bitterly. "If you're not happy then go away."
"You are testing my patience, Clara you are cold and traumatised, and yet you do not let me comfort you." he bent closer to her, letting his voice overcome her, hypnotising her. And very slowly she turned around, and brushed away her hair weakly. She glanced at him, even in the rain, he looked beautiful with his wet hair, and she thought he might have been crying, but she was unsure whether they were tears or rainwater.
Michael saw her torn shirt, revealing her body, he saw water wash away the mud and the dirt, there were red marks of her cheeks, and he knew that man had struck her hard.
"What did you do to him?" She asked in a little voice.
Michael wondered if she was deliberately punishing herself by sitting in the rain and refusing to come to him, he felt her shiver lots of times, her skin was pale, and he reached his hand to brush his fingers across her cheeks. Clara felt warm energy flow into her cheek, where he had hit her.