Page 1 of Redemption

1

ABIGAIL

Iwake up to a nightmare.

In the second between unconsciousness and waking, I believe that the awful scene with Dane was just that: a nightmare.

But then I realize that I can’t move my limbs, and something soft is wedged between my teeth. The makeshift gag presses deep into my mouth, and part of my brain registers that it’s one of Dane’s neckties.

More silken material binds my wrists and ankles. They’re drawn together at the small of my back, stretching my body in a hogtied position. I’m completely helpless to do anything but writhe on my side.

Fear crashes into me like the sharp slap of an icy ocean wave in January. Terror rips from my chest in a primal scream, but it’s muffled by the knotted gag.

Dane shushes me gently, and I shudder in horror at the shadow of comfort that tempts me.

The man I love is the masked man who attacked me.

He’s my online confidante, GentAnon.

He has scores of my paintings hanging in this house, the house across the street from my apartment building.

How long has he been watching me?

My mind races through all the times I felt shivery and trembled in his presence, even on our first dates. The images flicker in a nauseating film reel. Even then, my body recognized the predator. But I’m addicted to the fear, the threat.

He learned all of my darkest secrets, and he used them against me.

The mattress dips beside me, and my dark god appears in my line of vision, blocking out the view of my paintings.

We’re still in the bedroom of the powder blue house, in the horrific shrine to me.

I can’t have been out for very long. He caught me in a chokehold, but I don’t feel bruises around my neck.

Dane wouldn’t risk damaging his pet.

My stomach churns, and I taste acid on the back of my tongue.

Another scream tears from my soul—pure horror this time. Despair. Denial.

Dane’s familiar, elegant hand is achingly gentle as he strokes my hair back from my cheek. His eyes are deep green pools, and fine lines sharpen his heartbreaking features.

“Hush now, pet. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I shudder and cringe away, but I can’t move more than an inch in my bound state. He has no trouble keeping me within his tender reach, and he caresses my cheek as though to prove my powerlessness.

“I didn’t want it to be this way.” His cultured voice is deep with something like regret.

The slightly rough tone threads confusion through my panicked, racing thoughts.

I don’t know what’s real anymore. Is he my protective, fierce lover? Or is he a heartless, calculating monster?

The memory of the woolen skull mask in my fingers is all too sharp.

I definitely didn’t dream that.

“I can’t let you go to the police,” he reasons. He’s unnervingly calm, and I recognize his bedside manner voice.

My vision blurs as tears surge. I desperately blink them away so that I can keep the threat in sight.

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