BLACKmail

15

"Err," the female voice beside me shows that she's hesitating, perhaps because I've been rigid at the same spot for a few seconds now, maybe minutes, still contemplating, weighing if I should stay or run for my life again.

Again? Really, Char? As if you've ever ran from him before. All you did was succumb to his commands like a brainless-spineless person, as if you don't have any dignity, becoming his pet, sex slave, any other degrading nicknames kindly insert them here. Because you are that, Char. You are that.

Out of nowhere I feel like this is too much to handle. It's so sudden. Hours ago I was reading his email, then his text, and in a matter of minutes I'm gonna face the devil himself.

"Would you like a table, Miss?" It's like she just gave me the key to unlock this confusion, the inside of what's happening when it clicks; Oh God, what the hell am I doing?

I'm not gonna serve my pussy on a silver tray to him again. He wouldn't dare expose me like that would he? He can get jail time for what he did. He raped me for months, and blackmailed me. He fucking blackmailed me.

When my petite frame suddenly being wrapped in a pair of muscled arms, and then my nose catches that familiar scent, as my skin feels his body heat, I stop breathing as I stay rigid. As if I'm even moving since the past few minutes.

But I'm definitely shocked with that embrace. If my mind doesn't recognise him as my rapist, everyone around us including me would have taken it's a sweet moment between two souls who just rekindled their love after some distance.

But we're not.

"I miss you so much," he hugs me tighter when he whispers those disgusting words in my right ear. I can feel his breath on the nape of my neck, under my high ponytail.

"Let me see the cute face," he releases me but our body is still touching each other, his green eyes are now staring at me with a wide smile pasted under them, "I miss you, cute face," he goes for another tight embrace as I stay put with the same position.

I don't realise when did I start breathing again but I hate myself for doing that. Why would I breathe just to be alive and tortured by this evil man?

"Hi," he puts a hand around me as he turns to the girl who greeted me earlier, "Sorry, we haven't met each other since a month ago so," he smiles sheepishly as he scratches his head a bit, "Can we have a table for two? At the terrace, perhaps?"

At the terrace? How long has he been here? Has he come here often? That's where he usually goes? The terrace?

"Of course Mr Black," the girl with the nametag Alicia nods with the same friendly face she has a while ago, "Please follow me."

He puts some force on the hand that's still around me, urging me to walk with him, following Alicia that's already inside the coffee house.

"How about the usual table, Mr Black?" Alicia asks after she opens the french door that shows us a view of the terrace. My eyes grow in awe seeing the magnificent scene.

"Sounds perfect, Alicia." I swear he's flirting with her by the tone of his reply, all deep and husky.

But again, that's how he is with every woman he meets since I know him. He has that flirty gene in him, or perhaps the overly-gentleman-slash-friendly gene.

Alicia giggles as if she's flirting with him back, and now walking to the left towards one table that is located at the end of the terrace. There are a few more tables on the right side but only one on this side. Guess he values his privacy so he can threaten me without worrying if anybody would eavesdrop.

"Here we are," Alicia shows us the table as he nods then pulls the chair for me. I sit without any resistance and he goes to the other chair beside me. We are both sitting next to each other, having the nightlife of New York as our view.

"Would you bring two hot chocolate for us?" He asks her politely, "Thank you, Alicia."

"You're welcome," the smile that has been on her face since I first saw her grows wider. Then she's off to the french door.

His hand suddenly reaches for mine that's placed neatly on my lap. But I can't bring myself to look at him as I just watch Alicia disappears behind the french door. I stare at the door, silently begging for someone to show up and take me away from this place, from him.

I'm so scared, and helpless right now. But I can't go, because that will surely anger him. That will destroy my future, kill my parents, and mostly, take away my dignity, if there's any left. I won't be able to survive if the pictures come out. I won't.

"Hey," his soothing voice somehow managed to startle me as my breath hitches. I bite my lips, no, please don't do those things to me again. Please.

"You're not gonna look at me?" The way he talks, of how gentle and warm it is, doesn't make me less intimidated. I am still looking at the door, not wanting to turn myself and face the devil.

He sighs, obviously frustrated with my actions. Or rather, my non-reactions.

Miraculously, a guy in a waiter outfit appears from the door. My heart beats so fast at the opportunity to bolt from this situation, from him.

He approaches us with two drinks on the tray, then he smiles at us when he's within our view.

"Hot chocolate," he tells us as he places the drinks on the table.

The rapist removes his hand from mine to take the mug and brings it closer to me, then another to him, "Thank you Rick."

I become more nervous realising the little time I have to escape him. Now or never, Charlie. Escape now, or never. Because he's one hell of a persuasive man, he'd get me once I'm presented to him. It's now or never.

"You're welcome, Mr Black." The waiter replies him politely as I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans. Then he walks back towards the way he came just now.

"Summer in New York isn't much different than Bangkok's weather right?" He asks while my eyes are now shifted to the view in front of us.

"I've worked in Asia my entire career so to be transferred here," what? He has been transferred here? Oh dear God, no, "is something that I've been waiting to happen."

I close my eyes, beginning to feel suffocated with this news. I might work everywhere in the world, but I'm based here. So to have him here, means I am going to have a constant nightmare. There is no more safe haven for me. New York is officially a hell now.

"I thought my boss will transfer me to Africa since there're a few vacancies there, and I'm totally prepared since Africa and Asia somehow has the same weather, but the guy who's in New York got transferred there and I'm offered to replace him. Guess I'm lucky, huh?" He chuckles as I keep on staring at the view. I feel like crying for how helpless I feel.

"I'm definitely one lucky guy," the voice goes one tone lower as his hand snakes into mine, "I get to work here, with my dream position, and now, I get to have my girl next to me. I'm one lucky man," he brings my hand to his lips and kisses it.

I take my hand to myself as soon as his lips touches it, and that's when I finally look at his face. It's been one month, but he is exactly the same since Bangkok happened. That green eyes, chestnut-brown hair, and intimidating look.

"You're here just because of the text, hmm?" He brings the mug to his lips, now focusing on the view instead of me.

"You can go if you want." He murmurs before sipping the drink.

"I can go?" It comes out as a whisper eventhough I am absolutely delighted to hear those words. He said I can go. I can. I can go.

"I'd love to share picture number ten with the whole world so yeah, go." The fact that I haven't gotten to the tenth picture makes my heart drop.

I knew it's too good to be true. There's no way I can escape him.