Trapped With A Killer

Chapter Fourteen

The days continued to pass by without incident, but I knew that Valentine's Day was only a week away from my birthday. Knowing Wheaton, he had something planned, and I didn't want to know what he considered a proper celebration. Already I could barely handle him in bed anymore, but as much as I dreaded it the day came regardless.

Wheaton walked down that morning holding a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates.

"Happy Valentine's Day, love," he said, setting his cargo down on the card table before sweeping me up into a deep kiss. He pulled away, my saliva coating his lips and smiled at me.

"I still have to go to work today, but when I get back this evening I have special plans. Can you guess what they are?" he asked, burying his head into my neck.

I turned away and tried to back up, but Wheaton held me firmly by the small of my back.

"N-no I don't know," I mumbled as he sucked on my skin like a leech.

"We are going to make a romantic dinner together. Doesn't that sound fun?" he muttered against the skin he had been tasting.

"Yeah, sure," I said, biting my lip, wishing he would just get off me already. He grabbed my shoulders and held me out in front of him.

"It's also almost our six month anniversary. Can you believe that?" he smirked before planting a solid kiss on my lips. He tasted like mouthwash.

"No, I can't believe that," I whispered sadly as he climbed the stairs and locked the door behind him. Six months... It felt like a lifetime ago that I was in that parking garage with Quinn. I had just started senior year and I had my whole young adult life ahead of me, and now, look at me, dressed in worn out clothes that hung off my emaciated body and forced to have sex with a murderer daily. I sighed and slumped down in my seat, picking absent-mindedly at the roses Wheaton had brought until my hands were covered in sticky pollen.

If I didn't do something soon, I was going to lose myself to him. He would swallow everything that made me who I was until all that was left would be cum and blood. I was already giving myself to him willingly, simply because it was easier than fighting him. Wheaton knew that I was near breaking. Just last night he was holding me, telling me that I loved him, that my old life was the only thing holding me back. He was begging me to endure longer as he pushed me to the edge of pleasure. It sickened me. It disgusted me. But as much as I hated Wheaton, I was starting to hate myself too.

I dug my hands into the roses, wincing as the thorns prickled my skin, and started to tear into them until I was surrounded by broken flowers and fallen petals. I grabbed the box of chocolates and ripped it open before shoving the chocolates into my mouth. Weeping and covered in sticky caramel, I curled up in a ball on the cement floor, praying to whatever might have been listening to save me from this hell.

**********

After work Wheaton headed down the stairs dressed in a clean suit and tie holding a garment bag. He glanced at the mess I had made out of the flowers and chocolates, but he didn't comment on it. I sat in my usual armchair, and watched as he laid the bag over the back of a chair.

"I bought you something special to wear tonight. Change and then come upstairs," he said while unlocking my ankle and hands. He cupped my cheek gently.

"I'm trusting you upstairs even after that stunt you pulled last week. Don't make me regret it," he growled softly before he turned to head upstairs.

I slinked over to the garment bag and unzipped it to reveal a formal, maroon gown. It didn't look too revealing, but as I put it on it hung off my body in weird places. Even though Wheaton fed me two meals a day, I was usually feeling too sick to eat much of anything. Months of this had left my body dangerously thin.