Sexual Stalker

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Puddle of Mudd

Annabell POV

One week of the confinements of hospital.

Three weeks of bed rest

Four hellish weeks of sick leave and cancelled sessions, meetings and money!

A waste of time, energy and emotion.

Four weeks of 24/7 care and observation from none other than Avan himself;

"It's my fault you're in this mess. I will wait on you hand and foot, take care of you and help you through this." He has repeated 41 times SO FAR.

Thing is, I need some time to myself to try and come to grips with everything, and for one hour he had granted me that.

One hour I had to soak in the bath and try to collect myself slightly.

My MP3 player is on loud, the sound buds clogging up my ears as I close my eyes in relaxation.

I sing out loud to my favourite song by Puddle of Mudd,

"I love the way you look at me,

I feel the pain you place inside,

you lock me up inside your dirty cage,

well I'm alone inside my mind.."

Before I know it, I'm dissecting the lyrics like I always do.

I take the song from a personal perspective..

I love the way you look at me;

The way Avan looks at me.. It's like I'm the only woman in the world.

It's like I make him brighter.. He is the star than shines.

I feel the pain you place inside;

The serious, heart wrenching, gut wrenching pain that we are both trying and failing to handle..

My rape, my abuse from two men.

Avan's loss of two pathetic and unfit parents, and feeling he is to blame for my suffering.

You lock me up inside your dirty cage,

well I'm alone inside my mind;

This is how we are right now.. I am basically locked up in this house with Avan babying me.. But despite his loving behaviour, and constant care, I'm losing my head thinking about everything; trying to get to grips with my lonely hell.

I know full well that this song was based on an abusive BDSM relationship.. A switch relationship. Two people fighting for both domination and submission.

The lyrics have never really appealed to me until right in this very minute.

Isn't submission an outlet? A way of forgetting your worries? Your fears? Your responsibilities? Your everyday life?

Would being submissive help me move on from my hell?

Could I be submissive?

Was I ever a submissive woman?

"I love the way you look at me,

I love the way you smack my ass,

I love the dirty things you do,

I have control of you.."

Butterflies swarm my belly as I sing the words..