Twelve of Roses

“It’s okay; don’t feel too bad. I know you’re new at this. You’ll get better.” His grip turned light and he placed a quick peck on my cheek before traipsing across the room.

I’ll get better? I need to get the fuck out of here!

He pulled open a drawer and took out some clothes, tossing a large shirt in my direction and a pair of boxers. My stomach dipped as I watched him remove a gun and tuck it in the waistband of his jeans.

Get out, get out, get out! My brain chanted.

“Constantine, I need to go home.” I spoke softly, like I was attempting to appease a predator.

“Hurry up and shower. It’s almost noon, and we need to hit the road soon.” He acted like I hadn’t even spoken.

I made two fists, trying to gain control of my shaking hands.

“I don’t like repeating myself, Rosie. I’m trying to go easy on you right now. Get the fuck up and go get in the shower.” He turned around and glared at me.

I flinched at his tone of voice, hating myself for showing that I was afraid.

Who the hell was this guy? Had I misjudged him so severely all this time?

His patience was like a burning fuse on display. I could see it growing shorter and shorter, with the explosive impact being directed fully at me.

Scrambling from the bed as fast as I could on shaky legs, I darted towards the bathroom. Before I could reach it, he caught me around the middle.

“Don’t be scared; I promise I’m going to keep you.” He kissed my temple and swatted my naked ass lightly, urging me in the direction of the attached bath.

I could have fallen to my knees and begged him to let me go, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. Pride was such a reckless, stupid thing. I went through the motions of turning the shower on and waiting for the water to warm. My reflection caught my eye and had me blinking away fresh tears.

Teeth marks, a bit of blood, and an ugly purple bruise were imprinted on my neck. My wrists had a matching set but nowhere near as bad.

Looking away before I completely lost my mind, I stepped beneath the hot water and tried to calm down enough to think of a plan. I didn’t understand what was happening. His confession about watching me since I was fourteen resurfaced and chilled me to the bone. So many questions circled around my brain.

Why would he do that, and why was he doing this? And how the hell was I going to get away from him?

There was no way out. The second I stepped from the shower, slipped the oversized shirt over my head, and finished rolling the boxers at the top so they stayed up, Con reappeared like a phantom.

“You’re so beautiful, Rosie,” he expressed from the bathroom doorway. “I got you something,” he intoned, pulling a black bouquet of roses from behind his back.

I stared until his smile faltered from my resounding silence.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, slowly inching forward to accept them.

I desperately wanted to fall to the ground and curl up in the fetal position, but I wasn’t going to give him any reasons to hurt me.

“We need to leave now,” he explained after handing me the roses.

“Where are we going?” My voice was remarkably calm, considering I had a tornado of emotions warring inside me.

“That’s a surprise.” He winked, taking hold of my elbow. He led me through his room and back out into the hall.

The only sounds in the house were his heavy footsteps and the occasional drip of water from my hair hitting the floor. All the lights were off. Every door was open. Each room we passed was cleaned to perfection.

Where was everyone?

As we walked out the front door and towards his idling Hummer, an overpowering fear crippled me. If I got in his car, it was over.

The sight of my grandfather’s Lincoln parked in the garage across the street heightened that one single emotion. My bare feet skidded across the stone driveway as I attempted to pull away.

“Let me go—just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I pleaded.

“Don’t make this hard, Rosie,” Con warned.

“You fucking psycho, let me go!” I screamed at him, swinging the bouquet like it was a bat.

I never saw his hand coming. One second I was standing upright, and the next I was stumbling, tasting blood on my teeth.

“Dammit, look what you made me do, Rose,” he snapped, grabbing me by the collar of his shirt, causing it to rip as he dragged me to the car. I tripped over my own two feet and fell, crying out as the skin tore from my kneecaps.

“Shut the fuck up,” Con snarled, turning around and yanking me up by the throat.