CONSUME

16.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Like instinct had kicked in, adrenaline began to overpower her fear of his rage. Her phone. She had to get her phone. With her phone, she didn't need to risk her life while escaping, she could bring the help to her. She didn't care if the police would believe her or not, she would make them believe her.

He had lifted her pant leg, revealing her bloodied leg, the skin having been caught against something sharp as she fell.

"It's nothing, please get the lights back on."

"I'll help you first-"

"Please! I don't want to go back if it's dark, fix it fast and then we'll fix my leg." She protested.

"Fuck, I can't say no to you."

Bitch. She thought.

Pretending to love him would be much easier if she could make some quick phone calls.

He turned his back to her, grabbing the flashlight and attempting to find the fault that had made the electricity go out.

She crept closer to the box, heaving herself up and grabbing the phone before she could think of how enraged it would make him.

She slipped it into her bra, not daring to put it in her pocket because she was sure he would notice it. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

He turned around, looking somewhat sinister in the dim basement. He picked her up, pulling her close while she began to protest.

"I can walk!"

"I don't care."

His answer didn't humor her, but to give him a tiny piece of feeling needed seemed to be something that could gain his trust.

He carried her from the basement back to the house, the rain still hurling as her eyes lingered on his car again.

Really, how far were they from civilization?

The question faded into the back of her mind as he carried her into the bathroom, not the one in her room, the one in his room. He was gentle with her, his hands soft and caring as he placed her on the toilet and raised her leg. It seemed strange that the same hands had caused so much violence.

"Can you get me a shirt? I'm really cold." She pretended to shiver, watching him nod without hesitation.

Please don't see the phone stick out of my bra. Please give me a shirt so you won't see it.

It felt surrealistic to have someone tend to her so eagerly. While she knew that the power balance between the two was immense, it seemed like he had less control of himself around her.

He handed her one of his shirts, a large hoodie and she quickly put it on as he turned to rummage trough the cabinets for bandages.

It smelled like him.

It seemed tragic that the first time she would get a hoodie from a man, it would be from a murderer holding her hostage.

Tragic seemed to be a good word for her life at the moment.

The cut on her leg was long, the pale skin torn and the blood seeping quickly. She didn't know what had caused it, she figured anything sharp enough could've done it.