While She Sleeps

With my contacts, I can find anyone, and she won’t understand how I can track her down, steal her from her life, and make her mine. Can a more perfect woman exist? She’s taunting the beast that lives within me. I’ve hidden him away for so long that just reading her words, it feels as if he’s about to breakthrough, and I’ll be dragged into the depths again.

No.

She can’t be my focus.

Because if she becomes my obsession, it will only put her in danger.

I can’t do that again.

2

Vera

The gray button glares at me. His final words to me hit me right in the chest. I was enjoying the banter, the back and forth, but it seems I’ve scared him away. I allow my eyes to take in his last message once more and try to figure out what it means.

BP: I’m no good. Not at all. I don’t want to hurt you.

It doesn’t make sense. His screen name—Broken Prince—screams to me, begging me to hang on. To give him time, but I don’t think he’s going to come back online tonight, or perhaps ever.

Sighing, I lie back on my bed and stare at the ceiling. The light of the computer goes out when I close my laptop, and I’m left in the soft glow of the full moon, which peeks through my window like a voyeur. It watches me every night, waiting, biding its time, just like the darkness I seem to have awoken inside me.

I didn’t lie to him. I do want those things. I read about them, fantasize about them daily. It’s a scary thought needing such depravity to find pleasure. Guilt weighs on me, dragging me into the darkness I can never relent from because it’s part of me.

I have classes in the morning. Since I’m studying correspondence, I’m allowed to do it from home, or a coffee shop, or anywhere really, and I enjoy not being around crowds of people. When I was forced to leave the city, to find somewhere less conspicuous, I did my research and packed my bags.

I wonder where he lives. The broken prince. It’s heartbreaking to think he’s alone in the darkness, perhaps even staring up at the moon like I am right now. I didn’t ask him if he’s in the States, or if he’s internationally based, but I guess it doesn’t matter.

Maybe if I knew he was closer, it would make this more real.

It’s best I don’t.

I roll over, facing the window, allowing my eyes to flutter closed. Weariness hits me hard, and yet, the ache between my legs is still there. Ever present. Tears burn the backs of my eyelids as I try to focus on the sky, stars, and moon. It’s been like this for so long it’s become a part of who I am.

My hand finds the apex between my thighs, and I touch my center. Immediately, the need burns like fire racing through my veins. My blood heats, and I close my eyes, picturing him in my mind, even though I have no clue what he looks like.

I roll onto my stomach, shoving my pillow between my legs, and I roll my hips. I whimper and moan, the sounds soft, yet they bounce off the walls in the darkness, and I feel that familiar lust that drives me to imagine a more dangerous scenario.

Would he pin me down?

Would he hiss in my ear?

Would he choke me until I pass out?

My body shudders, and pleasure shoots through me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I tremble as I come down from the high and feel my panties now soaked through.

The scent of sex, of desire, hangs in the air, and I open my laptop before I have time to rethink it.

Vera: You can’t just tell me that and then leave. I thought . . . I figured you had needs like I do. Can we start over? Would you listen to me while I talk to you over a voice chat? Can we go back to the beginning before I told you my fantasies?

SB

Then I shut my computer and roll over, allowing my sated body to fall asleep with dreams of a prince who can take me away and offer me the forever I’ve been waiting for.

My alarm wakes me at seven, forcing me to roll over and slap my hand over the iPhone screen to shut the damn thing up. I’m still tired when I think about what happened last night, and then it hits me—I messaged him back.

Shit.

Pushing my comforter down, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and pull my laptop up before opening it. I log in, and the browser refreshes. Sadly, there’s no response, and the ache in my chest is a reminder of my stupidity. Why did I think he’d want what I do? I don’t know why I feel so sad about it. I don’t even know him, but when you find a soul that speaks to yours, you make haste to grab at it.