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Without warning, Hatchet picks me up and pins me against the wall, his lips crashing down on mine. His kiss is feverish, a mix of hunger and desperation that sets my body ablaze all over again. I’m scratched and scraped all over, bleeding and sore, but so so ready to go again with him.
I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer as we lose ourselves in the heat of the moment.
The stairwell feels like our own little world, a place where we can forget about the outside world and give in to our desires. Hatchet’s hands roam over my body, stroking every inch of me as though he’s trying to memorise every curve and contour. I moan into his mouth, my own desire building to a crescendo.
As we break apart for a moment, gasping for air, Hatchet’s eyes search mine, his gaze intense and filled with passion. I know what he wants, and I’m more than willing to give it to him.
He lifts me up once again, and I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling his hard cock pressing against me. He fumbles with his jeans and then he’s thrusting into me, and I cry out in pleasure, my nails digging into his back. The need is just as strong, just as ferocious as before, but at the same time he holds me more tenderly.
We move together in perfect harmony, our bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.
In this moment, everything else fades away. The asylum, our scars, our pasts – it’s just Hatchet and me, lost in the throes of passion. And as we reach our peak, our bodies trembling and writhing together, I know that I’ll never have a moment this perfect again.
After, he walks me to my door like a perfect gentleman, but doesn’t come in. I kiss him goodnight, though it inexplicably feels like goodbye, and head for the shower.
Letting the water heat up, I peel off my ripped hoodie and discard it on the floor, then I stare at my reflection. It’s becoming a habit to catalogue my injuries in this mirror. I’m mostly covered in dirt, but there are scrapes and scratches, cuts and grazes. Bruises are already forming on my knees and on my hips where he grabbed me. I cherish each of those small fingerprints like he’s still holding on to me, even though he’s gone. The cut on my cheek is a little deeper, but doesn’t need stitches. It’s already scabbed over but probably could do with a good clean. My hair is a rats’ nest of twigs and bracken and dead leaves. It’s comical. My lips are swollen and bruised from feverish kisses, and the bottom one carries the indents of teeth – but I’m not sure if they’re mine or his.
My eyes though, they’re so bright and alive.
I look thoroughly fucked, and I love it. Loved every minute of it. Wouldn’t change it for the world.
My hands skim my flat stomach and I wonder what changes are going on inside me right now. I’m such a fool. I never even asked the doctor any questions. Will tonight have hurt the baby? Are there things I shouldn’t be doing? Things I definitely should?
I don’t even know how far along I am.
Or who the father is.
Shit.
Stepping under the shower, I let the hot water cleanse me once more, pouring my immediate worries down the drain. My muscles ache and I feel like I could sleep for a week, but it’s a good tiredness.
When I finally feel clean, I shut off the water and climb out, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel and taking a comb to my hair one tiny section at a time. Untangling it is a painstaking process, and it’s another half an hour before I exit the bathroom ready for bed. I pull on a long sleeved shirt and some sleep shorts, and climb into bed.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand and I see a glass of water waiting for me. I smile softly. Hatchet must have snuck in and got it for me while I was showering.
Daddy Hatchet
You were amazing tonight, little prey. Good girl. Make sure you drink and get some sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning. Daddy x
My chest feels warm,my tummy’s full of butterflies, and my core is clenching reading his words. Maybe he didn’t come in and tuck me into bed, but this is the next best thing. His aftercare is top notch, almost as good as Honey’s.
Smiling, I put the phone down and reach for the glass of water, taking a long drink. I don’t want to be up all night peeing, but the more I drink, the thirstier I suddenly feel. I glug and gulp until the glass is empty and then replace it on the side, feeling satisfied thatDaddywill be proud of me.
A wave of exhaustion washes over me and before I can even yawn, my eyes are closing against my will, and everything feels impossibly heavy.
* * *
The strangest whirringnoise pulls me from my dreams. I’m glad, because they were taking a dark and sinister turn, but I can’t place the source of the disturbance when I blink open my heavy eyelids.
I feel like I’m floating, or bobbing on a boat, but at the same time, something in the back of my mind tells me that those options aren’t quite right. There’s a familiarity to the sound, but I’m too tired to place it and my eyes close of their own accord once more.
As I drift off, the whirring noise seems to grow louder and more insistent. It’s definitely not the sound of a boat. I try to sit up and look around, but my body feels cumbersome and unresponsive.
The whirring noise grows louder and I realise with a jolt that I’m no longer in my bedroom. Panic hits me as I try to remember how I got here, wherever ’here’ is. I frantically try to look around, trying to make out anything in the darkness, but my head will barely move. My limbs won’t move! My breathing quickens, and I let out a muffled scream. That’s when something cold and metallic clamps around my neck.
“Shh, shh,” a voice whispers in my ear. Is it alien or familiar? I can’t tell. “Don’t be afraid. You’re safe.”
I struggle against the restraints, but they hold fast. I am not comforted. I don’tfeelsafe. The whirring noise gets louder still, and I feel a sudden jolt as if something has shifted around me.
