by W Winters
Waiting for his owner.
The dog’s teeth feel so sharp as I whimper. My body’s shaking, freezing in the cold dirt and earth at the bottom of the cement stairs. The early morning sun rises, and it's enough light that I can see around me. Trees, open land… nothing else. Nowhere to go, no one to call for help.
Just like before. He’s dead. I have to remind myself. The monster is dead. He didn’t burn in the fire, but he was there, buried in the dirt.
It’s just Jay. He’s the one doing all this.
I pray that it’s him. I pray for him to come to me and make this all go away. Make the memories go away.
The most fucked up part about it all, is that I don’t hate him. I wish I could find it in me to focus on that strong emotion, but it’s absent.
Even as fear cripples me and the sound of the dog’s low growling vibrates up his chest and into my small body… I can’t manage hate.
The sound of a man’s strides makes me open my eyes. I force them to look back at the man walking toward me. His hands are fisted, his jaw clenched and a disapproving frown is on his face.
A low whistle pierces through the air, and the dog’s jaws loosen before he backs away.
I still don’t move. I lie there, my knees on the cement and the scratches from the dog bite burning and begging me to touch them. But I don’t. I just stay there listening to the man approaching. I close my eyes as he nears, hating everything that’s happening. Hating my failure, the circumstances. Hating everything but him.
He can drag me back inside; I won’t fight him. I never could before anyway.
My eyes are too dry to cry, but that doesn’t stop the guilt that smothers me when I peek up, his shadow blocking the light and I see the look of betrayal in his eyes.
Chapter 9
Jay
I knew she’d do it. I remind myself of that as I carry her back down the stairs.
She’s so light in my arms. Her small body is hot and she clings to me as if she didn’t just try to run from me. Her hot breath tickles my neck as she nestles her head there and stays still in my arms. She won’t look at me though.
And for some reason that makes me feel justified.
It shouldn’t though. I practically set her up for this, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
I climb down the cement stairwell to the opened door and whistle for Toby to come in. He’s a German shepherd I picked up after his partner, a police officer, died on the job. He was shot in the back and the fuckers got Toby, too.
He barrels in, taking glances at Robin, my little bird. He’s curious but he’ll stay away. I trained him well, and he knows how to behave and what to do.
“Good boy,” I mutter under my breath as his paws patter in the basement and I kick the door shut. I think about locking it, but there’s no point.
Robin sniffles and readjusts in my arms, but she’s quiet. Her face is filthy, with a large smudge of dirt on her cheek, but she doesn’t even try to wipe it away.
“I have a room for you upstairs, you know,” I tell her as I walk her back to the room. It’s just like where I first met her. Just like the room we spent months and months in.
She finally looks at me, those beautiful hazel eyes brimming with curiosity. With hope.
“It was your reward for being good for me. All you had to do was stay.” Her eyes flick down and her body tenses as I push my back against the door to the room and walk her to the bed.
“I’m sorry, Jay,” she whispers in a cracked voice. The light in here is bright. It’s not like the one Father had. That one was dim and dirty, covered with filth that had gathered for years. This light is new. It’s too glaring.
“You aren’t though,” I tell her as I set her down on the bed. I brush the sheets with my arm and look at her dirtied nightgown and the scratches on her leg from Toby. There’s a trickle of blood on her calf and I’m almost proud that Robin stays still when I grab her just beneath her knee to look at it.
“He got you, didn’t he?” The words slip out before I know it. I hate that he hurt her. Anger makes my body feel tight, my corded muscles ready to spring to life.
But it’s not his fault. He was merely doing what he’s been trained to do. As if hearing my thoughts, he whines from just beyond the closed door. My head turns to it, and I bite back the rage. It’s not his fault she ran.
“I’m sorry, I really am.” I look back at Robin, watching her pale lips part and then tremble as she waits for me to respond. Her eyes look everywhere but into mine.
“Scared little bird, aren’t you?”
“Jay, you need help,” she tells me again, her words a broken whisper. I nod my head in agreement though. My mind is fucked up, splintered and it hurts. It literally fucking hurts.
“I know,” I whisper back.
“I can take you to the hospital…” my sweet little Robin says, as if that’s the answer. As if there’s a cure for this. There’s not. I’ve already tried. I can’t be like this anymore. The only cure for me is her.
I try to blink away the memories of the nurse holding me down to the bed. How they had to tie me down. I had to behave so they’d let me go. I had to hide who I was, and what I’d done. But with her, I won’t have to hide.
“I won’t go back there,” I say and grit my teeth, my body tensing. “I’m not going anywhere, Robin.”
“Let me go,” she pleads with me, but that’s quite the opposite of what I’ll be doing.
I shake my head once and reach into my back pocket, my fingers slipping around cool metal. The handcuffs clink as I pull them out for her to see, and she dares to back away from me.
I snatch her ankle and yank her back toward me. Her fingernails scrape along the bed and she arches her back instinctively, but she lets me drag her close. It’s so tempting, the desire to push her obedience. I hover over her, my dick hardening and my breathing coming in heavy.
“Jay, please,” she whimpers with her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling.
“This wouldn’t be necessary if you hadn’t tried to leave me again,” I tell her and my own heart squeezes with pain as her face crumples and she lets out a sob. “I’m sorry,” she tries to say again, but it’s a silent statement.
I feel bad for her, I really do, but it doesn’t make the anger wane. Not in the least.
“I’ve waited so long,” I confess to her. I lower my head to rest on her chest, feeling the dirty silk against my forehead and breathing in her sweet scent. It fills my lungs as my hands reach up and grip the bed on each side of her hips.
I’ve watched her almost every day. Well, night. The knowledge that I have to wait makes me even madder. I can only see her at night. But every chance I got to make sure she was okay, I took. I had to; there’s a deep-seated need within me to ensure she’s okay.
She’s mine to protect. Mine to keep safe.
Yet she tried to hurt herself. “I knew you needed me,” I whisper against her skin and lift my head to look at her. Her lips are parted as she breathes, her hair a tangled mess against the white sheets.
I catch a glimpse at a smudge of dirt on the white sheet and my blunt fingernails dig into the mattress.
“This needs to come off,” I grunt through my clenched teeth, rising and gripping her nightgown in both hands. The handcuffs fall to the floor with a loud thud as she writhes under me.
“Jay!” she cries out my name, struggling to keep me from removing her filthy gown.
I let her arms flail, I let her nails scratch down my forearms, but I rip the thin silk fabric easily. It needs to come off of her. The memory of watching her lie on the dirty ground meshes with the sight of her running just now. I blink and there’s a child in front of me; I blink again and it’s her today.
My body sways as the memories taunt me. She left me. She didn’t have to today. She didn’t have to leave me again!
My body bristles with fury as I tear at the silk.
“Jay, please,” she whimpers and backs away from me as I rip the
muddy fabric from her and throw it onto the cement floor. She scuttles away from me until her back hits the wall. “Jay, no!” she screams.
The look in her eyes is what stops me. She’s fucking terrified.
My body shakes as I calm my breathing. I blink again and again. My hands clench and unclench, and I stand there paralyzed.
A moment passes, and then another. I stare as Robin watches me cautiously and I wonder if John’s here, but I know he’s not. He’ll come back in the morning. It’s just us. I close my eyes and rest my knee on the bed, hanging my head low and hating that I’ve scared her.
“I-” I try to talk to her, to apologize and calm myself. “I need to clean you,” I tell her although I speak with my head down and then raise my head to look her in the eyes. “You need your things,” I say and try to sound sane. I know I’m crazy, I know I’m fucked in the head. But I’ll never hurt her. I don’t want to, anyway. “I’m sorry,” I whisper and crawl onto the bed, slowly and making sure she knows I’m here for her. She tries to cover herself with her hands, and my blood heats with both shame and desire.
I grip the sheet, fisting it, I drag it up to her until she takes it.
I don’t stop moving, and even as she tries to wrap the sheet tightly around her body, I lie close to her, like I used to.
“Jay,” she says softly as I lie beside her and rest my head on the pillow. “I’m scared.”
I nod my head, acknowledging her admission and knowing she has reason to be scared. It fucking hurts. I wish I wasn’t like this. I wish I could have come to her and helped her without this fucked up head of mine. I close my eyes and wait for her to relax. She always did. Always. It didn’t matter how bad the day was, or what had happened. Even the day he took her.
She let me hold her, and eventually she’d relax in my arms and fall asleep. Always.
I count the time, using her breaths as a measure. Slowly she molds her body to mine. Slowly her breathing steadies. It will come back to her. It never left me. Not a single day has passed where I don’t imagine her in my arms. Some nights I swear I still felt her warmth, but feeling her now, I know I was a fool.
“Jay, talk to me,” she says softly. She always wanted to talk. I run my nose along her hair and when I let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of so many sleepless nights come down on me, her hair brushes against my nose, lifting with my hot breath.
“I don’t want to live like this, Robin,” I tell her and each word scratches its way up my throat. I feel my walls break. She’s powerful like that. Only her. I’m so fucking weak for her.
“Please help me,” I beg her as my eyes sting. She was made for me. I knew it all those years ago; I knew she was sent to me for a purpose.
“I need you,” I whisper against the pillow, my hot breath mingling with hers. I close my eyes as she reaches up and sets her hand down ever so slowly on the side of my face. Her soft skin moves along my rough stubble, and I open my eyes to find hers on me.
“For John?” Her eyes search mine as she asks, and it makes me feel weak. A pathetic huff leaves me as I swallow and stare at the ceiling. It’s not like it was back at the old house. The home I grew up in. Or basement, rather.
“John has no idea.” I turn to her and add, “He doesn’t want to…” I can’t finish. I can’t talk about it. This is why I need her. I wrap my arms tighter around her and pull her in close. I shut my eyes, just for a moment.
She’ll heal me, and I’ll heal her. I swear I will.
I just have to be careful. My little bird is so easily broken.
My eyes snap open and I tell her, “You need to listen to me, Robin.” My voice gets tight. “Even if you don’t forgive me. Even if you want to leave me, you must listen.”
Robin rises, propping herself up on her elbow and coming closer to me, holding me and lifting my chin so I’ll look her in the eyes.
She shakes her head slightly, and I almost lose it. The anger is so close to the surface. It’s always there, brimming just beneath my skin. “I forgive you,” she whispers and keeps my gaze. “You never had to be sorry,” she says but chokes on her words and with that I reach my arm up and pull her closer to me. She hangs her head low and I shush her again.
I rock her gently, thinking about how she looks at me like I can do no wrong. Like I’m broken and in need of fixing.
The thought used to make me hate her. I fucking hated being stuck with someone who gave me so much sympathy. I hated her for leaving. I hated how she had a normal life. How she wasn’t fucked in the head like I was.
It wasn’t until the sleeping pills that I realized. It wasn’t until I heard her whispering my name in her sleep that I knew I had to take her back.
It was then that I saw things so clearly.
“Shh, Robin,” I whisper as I rock her. “It’s okay,” I tell her even though I know it’s not in the least.
Nothing is okay. Far from it.
Chapter 10
Robin
I’ve never been a good sleeper. Not that I can remember, anyway. My mother told me that I used to sleep like the dead. Once I fell from the sofa and my father grabbed me by the ankle and kept me from hitting my head. I just dangled there, fast asleep and completely unaware.
Of course that all changed when I was taken.
It’s been years since I’ve fallen into a deep sleep and felt rested. Years since I’ve felt safe and able to sleep at ease.
Yet while I held Jay and let him hold me, it was so easy. So easy to drift into sleep. Maybe it’s the drugs or the exhaustion… or maybe the weight of the guilt settling.
Only the guilty sleep in prison, and that’s quite like what this is. I deserve to be here, because it’s my job to heal him. I know it with everything in me.
He’s broken because of me.
I roll slightly, feeling Jay's warmth cocoon me and slowly bring my hand to his chest. I never touched him back then, since he didn’t like it. He’d always wake up, and I didn’t want that. He needed rest more than I did. His gray Henley is unbuttoned at the top, and his broad muscular shoulders make the thin fabric pull tight.
I love his eyes; I always have even as they haunted me, but with them closed now I can focus on the small details of his face. How thick his lashes are, the rough stubble along his sharp jaw. The way his hair is short, but long enough to be messy.
A sad smile slips across my lips as I rest my fingers against his chest.
I wish I hadn’t though, because he wakes instantly, gripping my wrist and making me gasp. His eyes pop open and the pale gray swirls in his eyes are full of emotion. He swallows visibly and with unease before letting go of my wrist.
He blinks the sleep from his eyes and turns to look over his shoulder, the bed creaking as he looks at the door and then back to me.
He wraps his heavy arm around me, pulling me closer to him so my body touches his and then shuts his eyes as if he’s going back to sleep.
“Jay?” I whisper his name. I don’t know what time it is, but it must be very early or very late.
“Robin,” he says my name low, the deep rumble of his voice making the word linger between us.
“Let me touch you?” I try to be strong in my words, but they’re weak. I’ve always been weak for him.
He stays still, but the moment I reach forward he grabs my wrist out of instinct. His blunt nails dig into my wrist. My breathing stalls and I stare at where he holds me, giving him a moment. “You want me here to help you,” I finally say and look up into his eyes. He’s staring at my wrist as well, at his fingers curled and gripping with a force that’s unbreakable. I can feel the blood pulsing; his grip is so tight.
I swallow and add, “You need to let me do whatever I can to help you.” My voice quivers, and I have to look away. It’s selfish of me. So fucking selfish. I want to touch him, simply because I want to. So many nights he’s held me. He’s let me rest my cheek against his shoulder, and my lips have even rested against his chest. But never my hands. My hands need to be down.<
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“Tomorrow,” Jay finally says and releases me, leaving my hand dangling awkwardly in the air until I submit and lower it to the bed.
Jay lies still, with no indication he’s going to handcuff me to the bed. And I almost swallow my words, the plea for him not to. I don’t want to remind him, but I need reassurance.
My lips part, but the words don’t come out.
“What is it?” he asks me in a no no-nonsense voice.
“I don’t want you to handcuff me,” I tell him quickly. He lies still, with no reaction and my nerves get the better of me. I peek up at him through my lashes. His face is like stone, emotionless even. “Jay, please,” I beg him. My fingers itch to reach up and touch him, but I can’t, so instead my fingernails dig into the comforter.
“You can’t leave me,” Jay says as if it’s the only truth he knows.
This is wrong. He’s not okay, and I’m not safe. But the two of us were never meant to be right.
I can’t help what being with him does to me. I wish I could justify my feelings, but I know it’s fucked up on too many levels.
All the feelings I have for him are hovering just below the fear.
The need to cling to him to stay safe is strong. It’s hard to fight the urge to touch him. What’s worse is that I don’t want to keep myself from touching him.
“Go to sleep, Robin,” Jay tells me, his large hand splaying along my hip as he adjusts me next to him like we used to lay, calming me and kissing the crook of my neck.
His rough stubble brushes along my sensitive skin, and my body bows to him. I can’t deny the effect he has on my body. I can’t help how I want him. I try to override my body’s reaction to him.
“We need to talk,” I try to tell him, but he shushes me. And I obey. Whatever fate Jay gives me, I’ll take it. I know that with every piece of my being in this moment. I only exist because of him, and I’m guilty of a far worse crime than any he could commit against me. I’ll bend to his will; I owe him that. I owe him everything.