Page 70 of Cut Me Down

Damn it, he caught me.

I open the door wide for him. Gesturing for him to come inside, but he walks up, holds the door himself, and gently moves his hand forward, leading me to walk inside instead.

He helps me clean up, and I’m slightly surprised at the fact that I don’t have to tell him how to do anything. His movements showed no hesitation. Leading him to put things away exactly where they go and using the correct sanitizing agents. Of course, he’s watched methatin depth. At this point, I’d expect nothing less from him.

We walk upstairs for me to get dressed, and on the way up, I try to think of what to wear. He didn’t say what kind of date. Do I need to look dressed up? I hope not. I’m not even sure if I have anything like that. Casual? And if so, how casual? Definitely not sweatpants appropriate. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’ve ever been on a real date.

Cooper took me to the movies a few times, and I think to dinner once. But this dinner was with some of his friends, and he barely paid attention to me. Anytime we were out, if I acted out of turn or one of his friends looked at me the wrong way, I was punished for it. He would blame me and say I gave people reasons to stare, and occasionally would accuse me of wanting to cheat on him with his friends.

I need to get him out of my head, for good. I know that. I know deep down that Damien is nothing like Cooper, and that I need to learn to trust him. There’s no doubt that he would keep me physically safe, but it’s my heart and my mind that I’m worried about.

Why can’t I be a normal girl and just get ready?

Peeking through the crack of my door, I sneak a look out of the bedroom to see what he’s wearing. Thinking that will give me some type of hint as to what he has planned.

He’s wearing darker jeans than normal, and a plain black T-shirt. Instead of his normal boots, he’s wearing thicker bike boots today, and other than that, I don’t have much to go off of. Fuck it, I'm going to wear what I want. If he likes me as much as he says he does, then he can just deal with it.

I slip on my torn black skinny jeans, my sleep token t-shirt Serena bought me, and my ‘Stranger Things’ Hellfire Club Van’s, that Serena also bought me. That girl spoils me sometimes. Even with our tastes being so different, we know exactly what each other likes. Probably because our appearance and interests are almost polar opposites.

As if she knew I was thinking of her, I check my phone to see that she texted me.

Serena:

Hey girl! What you doing?

Getting ready for ‘a date’ apparently. You?

A date? Stalker boy is actually going to take you out in public?

That’s what he says.

Hmmmm. Hopefully he'll get you off in this crowd too.

Ser!

It wouldn’t be the first time! You remind that ass-hat that I watch true crime, and I'll come after him if he hurts you. I may not get away with his murder, but I'll get a good head start. Send me your location?

Yes MOM I'll send it before we leave

I giggle to myself as I put my phone in my pocket. She’d try to fight a four-hundred-pound man if I’d let her. She has no real idea how small and fragile she is.

Walking out of my room, I take the time to brush my hair out, and my gaze is immediately drawn to him as I fully emerge. He’s sitting on the couch waiting for me. Looking over me hungrily as he studies how I look. Dragging his eyes from the top of my head, all the way to my shoes. The old nervousness begins creeping down my body, and every ounce of confidence I was feeling before disappears.

Does he not like what I'm wearing? Does he not like it when I’m not in either my work clothes or nothing at all? His eyes lingered on my pants longer than anywhere else. It’s the holes in my jeans. He must think there’s too much skin showing. The highest one comes up pretty high on my thigh, and I didn’t think about that when I put them on. Damien is extremely possessive, and I don’t want him to get mad at me if someone looks at me the wrong way while we’re out.

I shudder slightly at the thought of what would happen in the past if Cooper didn’t approve of what I wore. The jolt of slaps and piercing insults of how I was a worthless tramp resurface in my mind. Even memories of the night he died replay the words he spit in my face.

“I'm sorry, I’ll change. I won’t take long.” My voice trembles more than I want it to. So, I sharply turn to avoid anymore looks from Damien and head back into my room, but he stops me.

“Come here.” He says sharply, causing me to flinch. I don’t mean to jump at his words, but my nerves are already on full throttle. His tone wasn’t harsh, or mean, and I know I need to just calm the fuck down, but it’s much easier said than done. I slowly turn and stare at the floor, contemplating if I should listen, or beg him to let me change. “Come here, baby.” He says a little softer as he sits up, resting his elbows on his knees.

I walk over to him, unable to meet his gaze. Taking one shaky step at a time until I stand between his legs.

“Sit down.” He says quietly. My initial reaction kicks in, and I gently fall to my knees. Feeling his confused stare, even though I’m not looking up at him.

Is this wrong? This is what Cooper insisted on when I had to prove how much I cared for him, regardless of what I was wearing. That was always a burning question in my mind. If I was so bad at sucking dick, why did he demand it so often and under the dumbest pretenses?

“On your ass, Ashia, and put your back towards me.” He slightly chuckles as he practically whispers it.

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