The Good Girl (7 page)

~ Gabriel ~

It was her eyes that gave it away at first. She’d drifted back to some place apart from the room where we were and away from me. Wherever she went, it wasn’t in the present. Although her eyes were open, her focus was not on me. She’d blacked out – still awake, but caught in some nightmare or memory set apart from the here and now.

It wasn’t until I noticed that she had sunk deep within an attack of some sort, that I stopped myself. I’d gone too far, had allowed the anger and rage that she stirred within me to take control. I released her and pushed up from the bed, watching as she balled into a fetal position

When I stood by the bed looking down at her, I realized the weight of my actions. I’d almost raped her – abused her. Turning immediately, I left the room on rushed steps, closing and locking the door behind me. I almost put my fist through the wall in the living room, my anger building to a point where it was painful not to let it out. Sitting down, I held my head in my hands, the voices screaming at me to go back. They were laughing – taunting me. They’d almost won and if it hadn’t been for her disconnecting, I would have continued.

What the fuck was wrong with me? I’d allowed hatred to become curiosity; and allowed curiosity to become an obsession. I’d not only stalked Eleni; but kidnapped her. My head hurt and I stood up from the couch, pacing over the cream carpet, my feet falling so hard with my steps that it sounded as if there was no cushion beneath my feet at all. Images of her filled my head: when I first saw her at the convention, when those men wouldn’t leave her alone at the club. I’d gone in like I would rescue her and I ended up being the biggest monster of all. I had to let her go. I couldn’t keep her here.

I spun in the direction of her room and marched to the door. My hand was barely resting against the handle when I screamed.

“FUCK!”

Pushing away from the door, I leaned up against the wall behind me. What the fuck was I going to do? I knew if I walked in there, I’d want her again – I’d want to hurt her and at the same time, I’d want to show her every pleasure a man could give a woman. The conflicted feelings in my head and body were crushing me from the inside out. I had to make a decision, and I had no choice but to continue forward with what I’d done. Letting her go wouldn’t solve this – it would only bring more trouble to my door.

I pushed off the wall, taking two intent steps toward the door; unlocking it and slamming my hand down on the handle in one swift move. When I opened the door and looked in, she was still on the bed, balled over herself. Her body shook with silent crying and I felt nothing but amusement.

Take her…use her…teach her…

They wouldn’t stop – the voices, their ideas, they were relentless when it came to her. Closing the door behind me, I noticed she didn’t move even when the latch clicked shut behind me. Her body was beautiful, the artwork, the image on her leg – it was the angel Gabriel – it was my namesake.

How ironic that the one thing she used to adorn her body was also the thing that would break her apart in the end.

When I approached her, I noticed the sweat beading on her forehead. Her body shook – but what I thought was movement from crying was something else entirely. She wasn’t crying – she wasn’t even aware of my presence in the room.

I crossed the space quickly and immediately stuck my hand to her head. She was burning up, but her teeth were chattering like she was cold. I immediately knew what was wrong and I was angry with myself for not recognizing how bad it was earlier. She was going through withdrawal. Every picture she posted online flashed through my mind. In each one, there was always one common element: alcohol. How long had it been since she drank…not even 24 hours and she was already suffering from not diluting her body with the sickening substance.

Picking her up from the bed, her naked body was damn near limp in my arms. I rushed her to the bathroom, setting her down on the floor while I drew a cold bath. Her skin felt like it was on fire and I was concerned that the withdrawal would only become worse. I’d read about these effects, but I’d never seen it in real life. It was scary – almost like a flu brought about by the body’s desperation for poison. I was angry with her and I handled her roughly when I dropped her in the water. She groaned and I didn’t care. I should have been taking care of her, tending to her level of illness with concern and a delicate hand…but my anger wouldn’t allow it.

She didn’t recognize that she was in water and she didn’t move to hold her head above the suffocating liquid. She slipped below and I’ll admit it took me a few seconds to decide whether I should pull her up or not. If she wasn’t such an addict, there would be no question. She was too beautiful and alive to lose her life.

But was she throwing it away?

Why save her if she was going to do nothing but get fucked up, to get others fucked up. Maybe by letting her drown, I was saving the life of several people. What if she got behind the wheel completely wasted and killed a family – children – just like the bastard who killed my aunt – like the demons who took my parents.

I gripped my hand in the hair that floated away from her head beneath the water. It moved as if there were a slow current, dancing beneath a clear pool. It was hauntingly beautiful. Gripping my hand tighter, I pulled her up and, finally, she gasped and choked as she struggled to force the water from her lungs. Her body flailed and I let go of her hair to place my hand beneath her arm to keep her above water. When she finally calmed, I thought she would have woken up from the trauma – but her eyes told me she was still someplace else.

She mumbled and I watched her face silently, completely captivated by her pain – her torment. My thumb brushed against her breast and she shuddered as goose bumps raced along her skin. She was still shivering from the cold, but her body was no longer burning hot. My eyes traveled over her inked flesh and I took in every line, every color, every beautiful detail of the artwork painted across her skin.

Leaning over the tub, I placed my mouth on hers and felt her lips shake from her chattering teeth. She went rigid at the contact and I pulled away quickly, searching her face for any sign that she’d come back to the present. Her eyes were closed, but moved beneath the lids.

When they opened suddenly a moment later … she screamed.

Chapter Eleven

~ Eleni ~

I gasped for air and realized I was under water. I was completely unsure of what the fuck had just happened to me. I remembered his touch, and I remembered him almost raping me before the memories of my youth clouded my mind. Now, I was awake in a fucking tub full of cold water. I chill surged through my body as I tried to protest; but, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get the words out.

I was frustrated and mentally spent because I didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with me. I was with him one minute and then I was a million miles away, lost somewhere between my childhood memories and the demons that continued to haunt me. I was momentarily taken away from all the fear and horror of my current situation - prisoner to a strange man.

He confuses me with his actions and I noticed that he was as off balanced as me. One minute he was heartless, ruthless, violent – and in the next, he was tending to me without a second thought. The hot and cold reminded me of the emotions I always felt on my own – the juxtaposition of thought and feeling that always kept me at an arm’s length from any person who could dare to care about me.

He watched me silently, but this time it wasn’t in a creepy manner. Our eyes locked for the tiniest sliver of time and I wasn’t scared. I felt pity for him – for us.

His arms dipped into the icy water and pulled me out, quickly wrapping me in another plush towel. I was prepared for the memories this time though. Before the thoughts of my mother could poison my mind, I pushed them away, shoving them into a box where I could keep them from affecting me.

“I can do this myself.” I pushed away from him and made quick work of drying off. My hands shook and my stomach rolled again. I tried to concentrate on drying off and not throwing up. I was fuckin’ sick of being sick. I was sick of feeling pathetic. “If you wanna help me, get me a fuckin’ drink.” I mouthed off and the tiniest bit of caring I thought I saw in his eyes clouded over with repulsion.

“You fucking disgust me.” His rage boiled to the surface and he moved to stalk out of the bathroom. But, before he left he turned around once more to pucker his lips and spit at me. It was one of the most disgusting things a human being could do to another. “What a fucking waste.”

* * *

Left alone in the bathroom, there was nothing I could do but think. Think about everything - my life, the bullshit I’d dealt with over the years, and most of all, the demons floating back to the surface since my alcohol-induced medication was gone. Withdrawal was a bitch. Fuck! If withdrawal had a face, I would punch it.

I know I shouldn’t even go there. It was fucking pathetic to think about. What if I was better off being a prisoner to him than being left alone to live my life on my own? Clearly, I haven’t been doing the best job. The only thing I miss about my existence before this psycho was school. I miss the books. I miss digging in to my studies, drunk or not.

I heard the lock on the door rattle and I knew he was coming for me again. I didn’t know how long I’d been left alone since being a prisoner had made me lose all perception of time. No clocks, no phones or computers, nothing. I was completely lost.

He walked in and I had to crane my neck up to look at him. I never realized how tall he was. Towering over my petite frame as I watched him close the door. He held a small plate of pasta, trying desperately not to smile. He wanted to smile, but that would break his big fuckin’ bad kidnapper reputation. He wasn’t all bad, at least not when this side of his personality reigned. He thought he had power over me because he could read me so well; but that was bullshit because I was starting to see through him just as much.

“It’s time to eat again, beautiful.” Turning to look at me, he waited while I refused to move. He scowled at my lack of response and his muscles visibly tightened when he said, “Please.” With a quiet tone, he placed the food down on a small table in the corner of the room. I let out a chuckle and watched his demeanor carefully.

“Something amusing, Elle?”

“Did you say please? I didn’t think you knew what the fuck that word even meant!”

Boom. The shades came down and once again, I’d pissed him off. He couldn’t take me. He couldn’t deal with me. It wouldn’t be long until I pushed him over the edge leaving me in one of two places; released or dead. Either one would be the ultimate freedom in my eyes.

“You are trying to push me, Eleni. I’m not stupid. I know your games and they’re not going to work out in your favor.” His green eyes flashed full of passion, only a hint of anger brewing under the clouds of his sour mood.

“This is me, whatever the fuck your name is. Don’t like it? Let me go.” In a flash, he turned and punched the wall directly next to my head.

“Never.” He growled before walking for the door, quickly retreating from me.

It was in that moment that my stupidity knew no bounds. “You are just as fucked up as me, asshole! You’ll never be able to deal with me. Kill me or let me go!” I was screaming, but it didn’t matter because he was gone already and the lock clicked back into place.

Fuck.

Chapter Twelve

~ Gabriel ~

She was pushing at me purposely – a spoiled bitch wanting nothing more than the liquid courage and numbing effects of the bottle. Briskly, I walked to my room to shuffle through her belongings. The cold metal of her flask brushed against my hand and I picked it up and shook it. Opening the flask, I breathed in the pungent smell of whiskey and winced. Even the smell alone was enough to burn the back of my throat without having to let it slide down my tongue and destroy me from the inside out. I shouldn’t give this to her, but I wanted her to see what it’s done to her – for her to experience how it heals her – only so that she could know how it had made her sick. She was a drunk - an alcoholic - and for all intents and purposes, a wasted life.

Walking back to her room, I unlocked the door to find her sitting on the bed with the towel wrapped around her. I couldn’t tell if the moisture dripping from her hair was from the bath or if she is sweating again. She looked at me with blue eyes rimmed in red. Her body shook beneath the terry cloth towel. I tossed the flask on the bed and she winced. When her eyes met the cold metal and she recognized what I’d given her, I could see the desire – the want – and the need flash over her expression. She hesitated, looking between me and the steel colored flask. Eventually she picked it up, holding it in her hand for a few moments before shrugging her shoulders, flicking the top open and sucking it down. It must have been close to empty because only after a few large gulps, she pulled it from her lips, flicking the lid back closed and tossing it on the bed.

Shame enveloped her suddenly and she refused to look back up at me while I stood at the door staring at her.

“Feel better?” The acrid taste of bitterness and hatred flooded my mouth. I knew the amount of alcohol that was in the flask was nowhere near enough to cure her symptoms, but it was enough to tempt the body … to bring the symptoms on more heavily. Her addiction disgusted me – a disease chosen by a person when there were others who would give anything to be healthy, vibrant and strong.

“No. Got anything else?”

I smiled. “Sorry, I’m all out. I don’t feel the need to drown myself in poison like you. I hope you realize you brought all of this on yourself.

She looked up at me with defiance alight in her eyes. “What kind of man are you?”

Her question confused me. I opened my mouth to respond, but she started laughing – a maniacal laugh, the sound reminiscent of a woman who was slowly losing her sanity.