Page 26 of Bound

What the hell is wrong with me?

I didn't feel bad about taking her, that was the problem. I felt angry and frustrated that I had brought this down on her.

This wasn't supposed to happen, and I reacted the only way I knew how; I took control. This woman had taken me by surprise in so many ways. I felt a weird sensation in my gut, a heavy feeling that made my cock thicken and my body ignite.

What am I going to do with you Emery?

Turning up the driveway, the front door opened and my mother stepped out onto the top step. Crossing her arms, she thins her lips as if she was going to lay into me for being late like she used to when I was younger.

“Port—” she started to say then cut herself off. “Who's that? Is she alright?”

“Her name's Emery, we got in an accident, the car's about five miles back off of Breakneck road.”

Waving her arm, she held the door open. “Here, bring her in. Are you alright?” Her eyes ran up and down my body, hands reaching up to touch my face.

She still cares, even if she tries to hide it.

“I'm fine, but she hit hard.”

“Bring her to the spare room, I'll get my stuff.” My mom quickly walked off down the hall, heading towards the bathroom. “Try not to be too loud, Dad's sleeping. I'll wake him after, and let him know what's going on. For now, just leave it be.”

“Yeah, fine, just hurry. I don't know how bad she's hurt.” Carrying Emery up the stairs, I went into the bedroom and flicked on the light with my elbow. “Okay, you're going to get some real help now, better than my hack job,” I said quietly, whispering into her ear.

Laying her down gently on the bed, she moaned softly, but didn't wake up. Sitting down beside her, I pulled the covers up over her legs and lifted her head to add another pillow.

She looked so innocent, laying there in a deep sleep, unaware of what was going on around her. A peaceful glow emanated from her face, causing a twinge in my heart.

Stroking my jaw, my fingers itched to touch her skin, to feel the softness against the pads of my fingers. I couldn't explain why I had the urge to touch her so badly, but it was there, eating me alive as I watched her from above.

Maybe it was her innocence, or maybe it was my emptiness and eagerness to have those normal feelings like everyone else. It wasn't that I wanted to be this way; cold, empty, numb on the inside. I just didn't have a pot of feelings to draw from.

“So, what the hell happened?” My mother's voice filled the room as she walked up beside me. “Is it just her head?”

“I lost control of the car, and we crashed. I did what I could for her head, but she complained about her chest hurting before she fell asleep.”

Gently, my mother touched her arms and belly, feeling around her neck and the bottom of her skull. Pulling out her stethoscope, she listed to her breathing, slipping the metal bell down to her stomach.

“Her lungs sound good, stomach too. I don't think she has any internal bleeding, but she definitely might have a broken rib or two.” Standing up straight, she rested her hands on her hips. “I'll take care of the cut tomorrow, we'll let her rest for now.”

I felt my mothers eyes as they bore a hole into my head. She was glaring at me, brows hard, lips taut.

“What?” I asked, letting my eyes connect with hers.

“Where did you go tonight?”

“I went out to grab a drink. Why?”

“Mm,” she sighed, obviously doubting my explanation. “You really expect me to believe that?”

“I told you to stop with that shit. Stop worrying about me, stop thinking that I'm still working for him, because I'm not.”

Laying her hands flat against her thighs, she tilted her head as she spoke. “Look, I know that this has been hard on you, it's been hard on all of us. But you can't be out there, you know that. Stop going to look for trouble.”

The skip in her voice told me she was trying not to cry, that she was doing her best to stay strong. It was typical of my mother to try and pull on my emotions, to read too much into something or look at me like she had lost me along the way.

She wanted so badly to have the boy she had raised standing in front of her, and not the person I had become. I suppose it was natural for a mother to try and protect her son, to give helpful advice and nurture her child.

I just wanted her to stop, and leave it alone. I wished she would just be happy that she still had one son, a son who was trying everything to right his wrongs.

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