Flower in the Dark

I watch as she slowly comes back to herself, pulling the towel tighter around her body. She moves towards the laundry room. She disappears briefly, as I have no cameras in there, and after several minutes she reappears in the kitchen. Wearing. My. Shirt.

My cock is instantly stiff again, the thought of her naked body beneath my clothes, seeing the way it brushes her thighs, caressing her skin more softly than my fingers ever will. I shuck off my wet clothes and sit back down, watching as she moves gingerly through the ground floor rooms, as nervous as a kitten in a new space. I’m already hungry for her again; I want to devour her.

Realization hits me and my blood boils, I will never be sated with this woman. I will never have enough of her. Anger starts to course through me, and I kick the chair at the wall, where it crashes to the floor, leaving yet another dent behind. “Fuck!”

I walk into the shower and turn the water on to as hot as I can take, letting it burn away at the festering fury inside, at myself, at them, and at Violet; my pure little flower who I am slowly tainting with my darkness. By the time I am out my skin is red and hot to the touch, and I can't see her wandering around anymore. That's when I notice her, asleep on the sofa with an open book in her hand, looking peaceful in the hell I have created for her.

I scrub my hand down my face, “Shit, what have I done, letting her out of the room?”

I debate going down there and carrying Violet up to her room, but for some reason, I can't bring myself to do it in case I disturb her. I grind my teeth, and turn over, giving the screens and her my back.

Jaw clenched tight, I try to finally get some much-needed sleep while wondering if she will be daring and also silly enough to try to escape me. I think she will go for it; my little flower has a backbone hiding in there somewhere, and I plan to draw it out of her and destroy it. I feel my features twist with the sinister and malevolent smile that sits in place on my lips. A large part of me hopes she will attempt to break out, because I know exactly what I plan to do to her if she even attempts it, and I will enjoy every minute of it.

30

Violet

I wake up with a jolt and slide off the sofa to the floor with a bump, a surprised whoosh of air escaping me as I land.

“Wow. I must have fallen asleep down here last night” I mumble to myself, rubbing my probably bruised ass and looking around the dim room. Sunlight is barely peeking through gaps in the curtains, and stretching I say aloud, “I wonder what it was that woke me up.”

A light draft on my legs causes me to look down, where I see his shirt, sleep-crinkled and hanging from my body. I had forgotten I put this on yesterday after the rain. I get up and make my way to the kitchen to grab some water, and possibly something to eat. Opening the fridge, my mouth drops in shock at the contents. It’s fully stocked, and immaculately organized, so I don’t even know where to begin.

Spying a packet of bacon and a carton of eggs sitting on the bottom shelf, I grab both and put them on the countertop while I hunt down a frying pan and some bread. I know he has bread, the sandwiches he brings me every day can attest to that. A little while I later I am leaning against the countertop and moaning aloud in food ecstasy around the hot bacon and fried egg sandwich. I haven’t had one of these in years.

Feeling more alert, I take in my surroundings a little more critically. If I’m to find a way out, now is the time to start looking before he locks me away in my room again. The windows offer no help; they are all locked and triple-glazed, so there is no way I’d break through quickly enough and without making a huge racket before he comes running to investigate. The front door is locked similarly to my room, with dead-bolts and security keys.

My heart sinks until I inspect the back door to the house, seeing that it’s a simple key lock with a standard bolt across the top. If I’m to finally get out of here, then this will be the way out. I hunt through all the drawers looking for the key. He must keep a spare somewhere. My eyes hit the padlocked door I noticed yesterday and I move over to look at it, pulling at the lock. It doesn’t budge.

Turning my back on it I keep looking for the key. There is nothing in the kitchen so I go back to the living room, running my hand over the tops of shelves and the gaps underneath. That is when I spot a large mauve case over in the corner, tucked away next to one of the bookshelves. I go over to it and pull it out, recognition tugging at my heart.

“This is mine, what is it doing here?” I wonder, unzipping it slowly.

My hand flies to my mouth when I see the familiar clothes, toiletries and some of my favorite keepsakes from when I was a child, a small bracelet, my cuddly toy cat, Phoenix, and a photograph of my mom holding me when I was a baby. Tears leak from my eyes at the sight of things I never thought I’d see again. I hold the cat to my chest, squeezing it tightly.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” I whisper.

31

Violet

With renewed energy and resolve, I dress quickly, throwing the t-shirt into my case, and zipping it back up. I head into the kitchen and stand next to the fridge, staring at the back door. I couldn't find a key, but maybe I could break it down. It doesn't look all that sturdy compared to the other doors in the house. I can see where rain has warped the wood at the bottom, and sea blue paint that has faded with time.

I go into the laundry room, looking for something I could use to break the door or the lock. Down the side of the dryer, smothered in countless layers of dust and dryer fluff I spot my salvation, an old screwdriver with a cracked, orange handle. Snatching it up, I dash back to the door, and jam it in the lock, twisting and pushing, trying to jar it looser. Nothing happens.

I groan in frustration and then try to force the flat head between the lock and the door frame, trying to push the latch bolt back into the door. After maybe twenty minutes of trying, still noth

ing.

“Why won’t you just fucking open?” I hiss at it, eyeing it angrily. I spend another twenty minutes restlessly tapping my foot and scowling at the door, hoping that maybe I can magically scare it in to opening up for me.

I grab a cold bottle of water from the fridge and have another look around the house, looking in all the cupboards, even under the kitchen sink. I wander upstairs hesitantly, trying to stay silent. I don't know if Z is awake yet, but his threat from yesterday which is still ringing in my head, has me stepping carefully, so that I don't draw attention to myself.

Walking straight past my room without looking in, I head further down the upstairs hallway, quietly opening doors to rooms that are nearly bare. The second to last door I try, I step back with a sharp exhale. It must be his bathroom, when I opened the door an overpowering scent of man and Z sweeps over my senses, rendering me breathless.

“Why does the bastard have to smell so damn good?” I grit my teeth, jaw clenched as I attempt to slow my pulse and breathing.

Stepping back, I gently close the door, eyeing the next one warily. It must be his room. While the chance that the keys to all the doors and locks in the house are in there, I’m not about to be even more reckless than I am currently being, considering I am trying to escape. Entering his room while he is in there would be pure stupidity.