Writing is my passion. If I don't write daily, I feel like my day is incomplete. I wrote this to...
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He was over me, though not on me, his rough hands covering half of my upper arms pressing them back into the mattress. He looked down at me for what seemed like forever, I couldn't make out his expression, but somehow I knew I didn't want to. He moaned in frustration and laid back where he had been, and I dared not move until I saw some sign of him sleeping. Then I would try undoing the knot tied to the bed frame, since the other end tied to my wrist wouldn't let up.
After hours of still silence, I rolled over on my stomach so slowly the creaky mattress barely made noise and I reached my free hand down the corner of the frame, gliding my fingertips along the rusty frame. I touched something rough and frayed-furry almost, and breathed quietly in relief. Then several long, furry legs skittered over the top of my hand.
“Ahhh!” My shriek pierced the deathly silence as Raiden jerked and fell off the bed, while I flung out my arm shaking the thing off my hand and onto the bed. I scampered back as far as I could to the end of the bed, and kicked out my feet in the direction it had fallen. A flashlight switched on and Raiden looked incredulously at me and what I was trying to shuffle away with my feet. I saw it and screamed as he got out a hammer and smashed the giant tarantula twice.
I felt all the color draining from my face, and my energy along with it.
“Did it bite you?” he asked in aggravation.
I brought my hand up to my face immediately, “No, no marks!” I answered, exasperated.
“...good.” he looked me over and stopped at my chest, swallowing hard, the hammer still tensed in his hand. Afraid of seeing another tarantula on my chest I slowly looked down. My shirt had gotten partially pulled down below my glittery, bright pink bra. I moaned and pulled it back up, darting my eyes anywhere except his face.
Letting out a pent up breath, he picked up the tarantula's body-which amazingly still stuck together, and tossed it on the floor. There was a stain of guts on the top of the sheets now, where I'd be sleeping.
“So...you were just lying down when this happened?” he asked, suspicion apparent.
His knuckles were white, clutching the hammer. I lied fast.
“Well, I don't know, I was on my stomach when it happened-I just felt this thing on my hand-”
“Where was your hand?”
“I-uh-by the corner of the bed...”
“What was it doing by the corner of the bed?” he asked, voice low. I was sure he knew what I had been doing. I played dumb.
“What? The spider?”
“You know very well what I mean.” he snarled, gesturing my way with the hammer.
“I wasn't going to attack you-” I started on a desperate tangent. “I swear, I wasn't-the spider attacked me after all, how was I going to attack you-I didn't try anything!” He gave me this empty-eyed killer look, some predatory thing I couldn't describe, but it chilled me to the bone. It looked like he was at the edge when it came to dealing with me. And he hadn't let go of that hammer.
“I'm still tied up!” I exclaimed. He devoured me with his eyes.
“Yes and even if you had gotten-” he stopped, running his hand across his face. “Ah...” he threw the hammer at the dresser, and the loud crash made me jump.
“Do you want me to kill him?!” he bellowed. “Because his wining is really getting to me, and it is taking all that I have to keep from killing that pathetic, winy little b****!”
I cringed at the way he talked about John, “No-no, of course I don't want you to kill him-I won't do it again I promise!”
His hand swept to the back of his neck and he seemed to be in a constant state of unrest, walking here and there and glancing at me sporadically. He stopped and looked at the door. He retched off the board from it's lock.
“No!” I screamed, completely hysterical. “Please-please, nothing else will happen, as long as you don't touch me I'll sleep under the covers with you-we can keep warm that way-I'll help you whenever you're wounded, I'll cook for you-just not human meat! Please!”
He had one door creaked open and then stopped, his head turned my way.
“Ah-ah...Yes-yes-I'll clean too, heck, I'll even clean you if you want me to, and I'll-I'll...um-clean your clothing...ah-”
“...you mean to tell me if I untie you and let you do all these things, you'll do them for your boyfriend's life?”
“Yes! And I'll stay for John's life too-what's the use of trying to get away anyhow-you'll just catch me all over again!”
He laughed like he had me right where he wanted, and then looked at me with intelligent eyes like he knew something I didn't.
He closed the doors, and shoved back the board.
“Very well.” he answered, sounding overly pleased.
He sauntered over to the bed and turned off the flashlight. It was dark again, and I felt him move underneath the covers and onto the bed. I stayed on my knees wondering what kind of bargain I'd just made.
“Well are you going to join me, or do I have to get up in the middle of the night to kill your b**** of a boyfriend?”
I cringed again. This was not okay, I was not okay with this...and if I didn't John would die.
“Remember I said not to touch me.”
He made to get up.
“No-no-no, I'm doing it, see?”
I slipped under the covers and, despite the tarantula scare, squeezed myself as far as I could into the wall away from him.
“Ah-that's better,” he settled into bed and I felt him watching me. I turned my back to him and squashed my eyelids together.
For hours of fear it was like this, until I drifted to sleep in the early morning hours.
I awoke to some strains of golden sunlight coming through slightly open doors. He was gone, and on the end of the bed was a wrapped Twinkie. I snatched it up greedily and scarfed it down fast.
When I was done, screaming started echoing from the shed-John's!