Arabelle Vine, a 22 year old photographer in Seattle Washington, is happy with her current life. She has friends, a great family, and a job she loves. But Arabelle wants to be more than just content with her life. She wants excitement, and she wants...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
I shift in bed, squeezing the pillow I'm holding closer to my chest.
Wait. A pillow?
I blink my eyes open as I adjust to the pitch black room. I look down at my arms to see them firmly gripping Arabelles silk pillow. She bought me a silk pillowcase and I didn't believe her when she told me it would help with my skin and hair. But they work so fucking good.
I groan as I roll onto my back, craning my neck to look at the bathroom door. There's no light seeping out through the small crack at the bottom of it, letting me know that Belles not in the room.
I snap my neck towards the door when I hear the sound of breaking glass crash against the hardwood floors downstairs.
I shoot out of bed throwing my bedroom door open. I smack the hallway wall slightly, searching for the light switch. The light switches on, and I make my way quickly down the steps my hand dancing along the railing.
"Arabelle!" I yell popping my head into the dark living room, panic setting in. "Arabelle! Where are you, baby?"
Willows deep bark and small whines travel through the home, I move deeper into the house. Sobs reach my ears when I reach the kitchen. I flick on the light, my eyes flitting rapidly around the all black kitchen.
Arabelle cries out a loud sob, still hidden from my sight. I round the kitchen island and see her sitting against the dishwasher, her knees pulled to her chest as she sobs in her hands. I look down at her feet to see broken glass scattered all around her.
"Shit, oh my god. Baby." I squat down next to her, being careful of the glass."Arabelle."
She doesn't seem to hear or see me and continues to sob into her arms. I reach my hand out, lightly rubbing her thigh in attempt to slowly coax her out of her panicked state.
"Don't touch me!" She screams, flinching away from my touch. Her red puffy eyes meet mine, and all I see is fear in them, all light drained from them. "Don't touch me." She mutters, her whole body shaking like a leaf.
"Arabelle. It's me, baby. I'm not going to hurt you." I keep my voice soft as I speak to her. "It's me, Roman. It's not him, he's gone, remember?"
She cowers away, placing her hands down on the broken shards of glass that litter the floor. I notice her forearms are all scratched up. "Please, baby, your hurting yourself." I plead.
"Get away from me." She whimpers softly. My heart cracks as I watch her cry out at the mere sight of me.
I feel helpless.
"Beautiful, please look at me." Her deep blue eyes lock with mine as I reassure her, "you're okay. It's me. I'm not going to hurt you."
