My Killer

Falling for you

I couldn't believe that I was back here again, my bound hands pressed up against the lid of the trunk. That's right, the bastard had put me back into the fucking trunk of his car, again. Why? To avoid any unnecessary complications. Those were Michael's words, not mine.

Fucking asshole...

My lips were sealed as well. Not that I was in any way tempted to make a ruckus. Michael had assured me, with a few unquestionable choice words, that any attention drawn to my predicament from outside sources would end in a low-key bloodbath, he would force me to help him clean up the crimson mess as a sort of added bonus as well. He had sported this ominous grin when he added that last part, which in turn had made cold shivers run down my spine. It had felt like the chilled hand of death itself had caressed the sensitive tissue running along my backside. The eerie feeling was nothing less than haunting.

Twisted fucker...

So many threats to keep me in line, yet he still felt the need to not only bind me, but to fucking gag me as well. Was I truly that transparent? Did he know me better than I knew myself? Or was his actions laced with another sort of intent, one I had urged to the surface with a few heated actions of my own making.

I guess I sort of brought this on myself... in a way...

I mean, if I hadn't...

Images of telling the self-proclaimed bastard to go fuck himself, once the sudden sting of finding his car keys in the damned ignition of the fucking car had started to settle, filled my mind. I had outright ripped into Michael, and not only verbally. Rage had taken hold of me in the most unforgiving manner. Perhaps there were several more reasons as to why Michael had suddenly decided to throw me in the trunk of his car, more petty reasons. I mean, I had actually wrenched myself out of his grip and attempted to sucker punch him in the fucking throat. My aim had never been so true, yet I had failed rather miserably. Catching hold of my fists as they swung towards him hadn't been a problem for him. Just a nuisance. A tiny fucking nuisance which he held me very much accountable for. I swear that I had seen the corner of his lips twitch as he shoved me into the trunk of his car, his face made of stone, yet there was this glimmer in his eyes, this fucking annoying tell. He found my defiance amusing, and he took a twisted sort of delight in setting me straight.

You petty son of a fucking bitch...

Yeah, petty... I was kind of sure that Michael's reasons might have been fueled by pettiness rather than fear of me attempting to escape his clutches. Because why would he even bother to take me on this trip if he believed for one single second that he couldn't handle my defiance. Simple, he wouldn't. He might take risks, but they always seemed to be extremely calculated in one way or another.

Fucking bastard...

I let my arms fall down only to rest against my chest again, bent at the elbows, making it seem like I was lost in a bout of devoted prayer. I wasn't. I had long since stopped hoping for the impossible to happen, I had relinquished the very idea of some heroic figure coming to my rescue. What was the point? I was still right here, wasn't I? This wasn't a fairytale, but at the same time, it held no semblance to real life either. Surreal, this was a fucked up surreal nightmare, one I was drowning in. That was what this whole situation felt like. Real? Pffft... No, none of this felt even remotely real, and yet at the same time, I had never truly felt as much nor as devastatingly hard as I had been forced to feel these past few weeks. Michael had made every single emotion, every touch, every taste so much more vivid. And not just the horrors, but the pleasures too. Sensations paled in his absence. Just about anything seemed to pale in his absence. Both a relief and somehow at the same time a curse. It left me stumped.