Page 41 of Fixation
But no, he’s not an actor.
He’s a surgeon.
A psycho doctor who lives in my neighborhood.
Who might’ve been stalking me.
Who might not be a doctor at all.
Looking at him will give him what he wants. My submission.
Fuck that.
These restraints are solid. There’s no getting out of them. My fever makes everything ten times harder.
I won’t give up.
Soft footfalls echo in the basement and I hear it. He’s barefoot.
That’s a bad sign. A truly horrible sign.
If he were wearing shoes, I could convince myself this was all a big misunderstanding.
Shoes would’ve meant he had plans to let me out. That he regretted putting me here in the first place. Thatweweregoing somewhere else.
The hospital, maybe.
Except he’s walking toward me barefoot.
We’re not going anywhere. I’m never getting out of here.
Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom.
My heart is screaming at me. Each beat is a punch to my ribs.
Get out! Get out! Try harder!
To my complete and utter humiliation, two more tears trail down my temples.
A large hand on my shoulder. A shadow casts over me.
I whimper, hating that his presence grounds me. I hate that one moment, I’m shivering in fear, and the other, I’m sinking into the bed.
“Harper.”
The effect he has on me is infuriating. Humiliating.
I’m comforted by my kidnapper.
There’s a good chance he’s going to kill me after he heals me, then uses me up.
I’ve seen his face.
So no, I won’t feel good about it. About being bound and at his mercy. I won’t be intimidated, either.
No fucking way.
I cut my gaze to his hooded, serious one.
