Left In The Dark

Chapter 24

My limbs tensed into solid, useless extensions. I was petrified. My heart pounded violently in my chest. This can't be real. This was the one time I wanted my ears to deceive me, but I knew that they hadn't. I never forget a voice. Especially not his. Boris was standing in front of me. The thought alone sent a very sudden and penetrating pain into the back of my head. Immobilized by terror, I held my breath when I felt him approaching. Every hollow thud of his footsteps forced my body to quake. When they stopped so did my heart. I closed my lids. I didn't even want my empty gaze in his direction. With his coarse hands, he softly cupped my face and I immediately shook out of it. How could he touch me so tenderly like he didn't cause me the most pain? The worst pain. He took something from me that, up until Shawn, I thought I'd never get back. All I could think about were those demented eyes of his the night he attacked me. Those being the last thing I saw ever since. I pinched my eyes tighter when I felt him caress my cheek again. A tear squeezed out.

"Bey, what's wrong?" He said in a soft, disappointed tone.

My skin crawled when I felt the breath of his words against my face. I could feel his 6'4 frame towering over me.

"Wh-...Ho-..." I didn't know where to start. "How did you find me?"

My question was barely audible.

"I went to our old brownstone but the landlord said you had moved years ago. He gave me the forwarding address from your postal mail, and here... here I am." He answered just as quietly.

He seemed reserved, almost insecure. My mouth trembled and I felt a flushing sensation in my face. I tried to keep some composure. The silence was all-consuming and ominous. Boris didn't move. The only sound from him was his breathing which was slightly unsteady. Not being able to tell what he was doing or thinking made me anxious. I was wondering what his expression was at the moment. Was it soft and warm or were his eyes still as black and wild as they were when I last saw them? The ambiguity of the whole situation encouraged me to take three steps back to create some distance between us. The first move I made since opening the door.

"What do you want?" I asked as calmly as I could.

I heard the floorboard creak as he was about to take another step. I held my hand up.

"Don't."

"What's wrong Bey? You don't look happy to see me."

I clenched down tightly on my jaw as the irony of his words hit me. The engulfing fear that I had, unexpectedly turned into a fiery ball of rage. I balled up my fists and unleashed the wrath of 4 year-long resentment. My arms went flailing in every direction. I was reckless but I didn't care, as long as I hit my target.

"I HATE YOU!!!"

My words were filled with venom. I punched into the air with all my might. My hand came in contact with what felt like his nose. Boris yelped in pain.

"Beyoncé! Stop!" He shouted, his voice muffled.

I could feel him trying to block my hits. It only made me fight harder, trying to break past his barrier. Loud smacking noises infiltrated my ears which gave me more motivation to strike. Eventually he over powered me by grabbing my wrists. I panicked.

"LET GO OF ME!"

I twisted and turned. The scene of that awful night immediately played in my head. I tried to snatch out of his grip but it was firm. Tears streaked my face.

"Beyoncé listen to me..."

My arms began to tire out from the added resistance of his hold. I untightened my fists-arms now hanging limp by my sides. I caught my breath as I let the adrenaline subside. I held my head down low. He lifted my chin and I swatted his hand.