Fable of Happiness (Fable 1)

He had that capacity inside him.

I’ve seen it.

But that all shattered now.

I didn’t even cry. Not really.

I just...shut down.

I tuned it all out and slouched on the cool tile, ignoring every ache and discomfort in my body.

I didn’t know how much time passed, but eventually, his feet scuffed on the marble as he pushed off from the doorframe. He came toward me, tipping my chin up with his finger. He looked deep into my eyes and studied me.

I didn’t look back.

I blinked without seeing.

I deleted him from my existence.

I honestly didn’t care what he’d do.

But then...he was gone.

His finger left a slight burn where he’d touched me, his body leaving a small cloud of his sunshine and shadow scent.

It took a stupidly long time to understand that he’d not only left the bathroom but the bedroom too. He’d left me. Alone. Just like I’d asked.

And that was when I truly cried.

The sob couldn’t be contained, and I crawled to the door on my hands and knees. I slammed it shut as tears gushed down my cheeks. I scrambled to my feet and stumbled to the toilet.

Ripping off my leggings, I cried even harder as I sat on the cool porcelain and let go.

The relief was instant.

The gratefulness for his disappearance immense.

My body purged, and once it was over, I shook with hunger, fear, and tiredness.

I’d never been so twisted and knotted. I’d never been denied cleanliness or safety. Now that I’d been granted a few moments alone with a shower nearby and my stomach no longer in agony, I couldn’t ignore the pull.

I should launch myself out the window and run.

I should throw caution to the wind and get as far away from here as I could.

But...I’d always been a savvy climber. I was the smart one with the right equipment, enough rations, gear, and technology to prevent a tragedy like the one I’d stupidly fallen into.

And if I ran now, I wouldn’t last long.

I barely had any food in my system. I had no water. It was dark, which meant I couldn’t see where I had to go. I could end up breaking a leg or falling off the cliff as I attempted to escape.

And besides, I’d made a promise.

I’d said I’d stay if he left me alone. If I failed and he brought me back, I would never get another chance to cultivate his trust. To plot a better escape. One where I would succeed.

Tomorrow.

Survive tonight.

Run tomorrow.

With a racing heart, I tore at my dirty clothing.

I kicked off my hiking boots along with my leggings and underwear. Unzipping my windbreaker, I ripped off my hoodie, t-shirt, and exercise bra and threw them all into the corner.

Naked and highly aware I still had streaks of his dried cum on my chest—even after washing the best I could in the dungeon—I darted into the shower and turned on the tap.

Icy water hit me.

It felt sublime.

I didn’t mind it was cold or that my shaking increased until my teeth chattered and kneecaps bounced. I’d never enjoyed a shower as much as this. Never felt so baptized from dirt or refreshed by liquid.

Water sluiced over my face as I tipped my head under and gasped at the chill. My hair plastered down my back. With eyes blinking back droplets, I grabbed the gold-wrapped soap and tore it open, running the flowery scented suds from the top of my head right to my toes.

Heaven.

Hell.

Everything in between.

Only once bubbles covered me did I step back under the cold spray and rinse. My skin burned from the cold, and the contrast between the muggy air and the snowy water was almost an aphrodisiac. My senses were on high alert and strung out. My jumpiness at an all time high.

Thanks to hypersensitivity, I knew he’d returned. I knew before the door even opened. Instincts did their best to protect me, sending my heart hiccupping before catapulting into an all-out sprint.

The bathroom door opened.

He strode in.

Our eyes locked from across the room. Droplets continued to rain over my face, and his naked chest glittered with the numerous scars that painted a story of his pain.

His gaze dragged from my eyes to my bare breasts, exposed stomach, naked core, and every inch in-between.

He didn’t slouch against the doorframe this time.

He stood stiff and solemn.

He didn’t reach for his straining erection or attempt to provide any relief to the stark arousal on his features. His hands balled into fists by his thighs as he continued to drink me in. His tongue wetted his bottom lip as he became transfixed by my ass as I turned my back on him and shot him a glower over my shoulder.

He acted as if he’d never seen a naked woman before, but beneath that eager innocence, something far too dark to understand existed. Flashes of it appeared and disappeared in his eyes. Something cruel and sadistic. Something that hinted he wasn’t innocent at all and had done things I could never imagine.