Chapter Nineteen

Still trembling, I stumble out of the shower and sway, almost tumbling to my feet. I brace my hand on the wall for support as butterflies course through my veins. After several seconds I steady myself and pick up the towel, drying myself off and slipping my bra and panties on along with a long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

It didn’t dawn on me until just now as I was rifling through my bag that there is only one bed in this room and I know the jerk isn’t going to sleep on the stained carpet floor. The thought of sharing a bed with him makes me suddenly become cold and a shudder runs through my body.

I fold up the sundress I had on earlier and stuff it in the bag. The knife catches my attention. I pick it up and raise it sluggishly to my eyes to get a better view. Jagged edges and at least a three-inch blade could do wonders if I had the guts to slice Trent up in his sleep. Bit by bit a smile creeps across my face as I picture him begging for his life while I cut out his black heart.

              “If only you had the guts to really do it, Clove,” I whisper.

I jump and nearly drop the knife when I hear a banging on the bathroom door.

              “Hurry the hell up in there, Clove! Unlock this motherfucking door now!”

What the hell has him so pissed off now? He’s so damn angry.

              “Clove! Open it now!”

Shoving the blade back into my bag and zipping it up, I unlock the door and swing it open and stare into the eyes of my kidnapper and attacker.

              “Don’t fucking lock the door again.”

He clutches my arms and pulls me flush against his body. He leans in and plants his face into the crook of my neck and sniffs.

              “You smell amazing.”

I cringe and feel my body go downright frigid as he licks his way up my neck to the base of my ear.

              “Don’t think for one minute you’re fooling me with those baggy fucking excuse for clothes you have on. I know exactly what’s underneath them. Besides, no matter what you have on, if I want it then I will damn well take it.”

His words make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I won’t be able to survive another assault. I know I won’t. I am already coming apart at the seams piece by piece.

He finally releases me and snatches my bag out of my hands. For the briefest of moments I panic until he takes a step and tosses it onto the floor next to the bed.

              “You’re going to sit right there while I take my shower,” he orders, pointing to the toilet.

              “W-why?” I ask.

              “Because I don’t trust you and because I fucking said so. Now sit!”

He barks orders as if I’m a dog. Maybe I should lift my leg up and piss all over him, too. I mean seriously, where does he think I am going to run off to? I am just about to ask him when he stands directly in front of me and sheds his clothes.

Lowering my head to the floor, I focus on my toes which are still painted a bright shade of pink. Sighing heavily, I remember the first time I came home after spending several hours at the salon getting pampered with a mani/pedi and a massage and waxing everywhere.

Turner’s mouth practically fell open as I chucked off my flip-flops and laid on the couch, placing my feet in his lap. He loved this color of pink. He skimmed his hands up my legs until he reached the hem of my jean skirt and slightly lifted it to take a peek underneath. When he saw my smooth pussy, he pounced. Well, smooth and red.

              “You did all of this for me?” he asked with such a tender expression on his face. I simply nodded in return.

              “God, baby, it must have hurt.”

He kept his eyes glued to mine as he gently ran his hands over the top of my mound.

              “It hurt like a bitch and I will do it again and again if I get this reaction out of you every time I do it.”

I wiggled my toes in his lap as his thick erection stood at full attention. He lifted his eyebrow as if to challenge me.

              “Is that so?”

              “You know I would anything for you, sweetheart. Anything at all.”

And I meant it. I still mean it. I would do anything as long as it gets me back into his arms even for one last time. I will endure all of this pain and suffering. There really are no words to describe the torment I have endured, and after seeing that picture of Turner the other day, I know he is being subjected to some of the same agony I am.

Our love has to be strong enough for us to find our way back to each other and to have our happily ever after. I may have given up all hope of ever being back to the person I was before all of this happened, but I can never give up on true love.

From the very first time I looked into Turner’s eyes I knew he was the one for me, and what a wonderful journey it has been. I miss him. The way he touches me, kisses me, and looks at me. I am myself around him and I pray to God that he won’t be taken away from me. This horrendous, traumatic web of lies, deceit, and worst of all, betrayal on my part is something I have to live with for the rest of my life, and I will, just as long as I have him standing by my side.

The sound of the shower turning off draws me back to reality. I still don’t look up. I simply can’t. I can feel his eyes bore into me as he takes hold of his towel. There isn’t a sound to be heard except for him rustling around drying himself off.

              “You need to eat something, Clove.”

His demanding tone makes my blood start to boil. Yes, I am starving and extremely thirsty, but if I yield to him and eat, I know I won’t be able to hold it down. I shrug and keep my eyes glued to the floor.

“You’re making this situation harder on yourself than it needs to be,” he says as he walks past me and out into the small, musty motel room.

Now that he is finished with his shower, does this mean I can get up or am I supposed to stay here until he orders me to move? I hear him shuffling around in his black duffel bag he brought in with him and decide I am going to sit here until either he comes in and gets me or I know for sure he is dressed. Seeing him without any clothes on is a mental picture I can live without.

I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear a knock on the door. I go to stand up when he hollers for me to stay put. I stay standing in the middle of the bathroom floor listening to him say thank you and keep the change. He must have ordered some food. I get my answer as I take a large whiff and the aroma of pizza fills my nostrils. My stomach knows there is food and lets out a large growl.

Shutting off the light in the tiny bathroom, I round the small dividing wall and almost stumble right into Trent, who is standing there with his nostrils flaring and his fists clenched tightly to his sides. Taking a step back and out of his reach, I start trembling so badly I don’t think I will ever stop. I shake my head back and forth as if to say no, but he presses forward. I move backwards until I am resting up against the wall.

              “You’re really starting to piss me off with this bullshit game you seem to be playing by not talking or eating. Now I am only going to say this one more time, and unless you want a repeat performance of earlier today, you will go sit your ass on that bed and eat.”