Page 49 of Kept in the Dark
Shock and hurt weave through her features, but she schools them.
I need to leave.
“I will tend to my own wound,” I growl, jerking the gauze from her hands, shooting up the stairs, and slamming the door closed after me.
14
Nicole
Ruin me?
Another terrified tear slips from beneath my squeezed-shut eyelids as the boat lurches in a massive wave, tossing me against the paneled wall behind the tub. I thought the bathroom would feel safer—the presence of the toilet was an added bonus when I lost my lunch—but it’s starting to feel hopelessly claustrophobic in here.
Every time I open my eyes, I see everything swaying in the flickering lantern light, and it makes my stomach roil. Every time I close my eyes, I have visions of water spilling in from under the door, and it makes my chest tighten in panic. The skin of my knuckles is stretched white and bloodless as I hold on to the handlebar in the wall and the sink counter for dear life. Even anchored like that, I still feel like I’m being thrown around—the sea is the cat and I’m the dead bird it’s playing with.
Something heavy falls above me, making me flinch. The boards around me creak ominously, and every beat of a wave against the side has me on terrified edge, thinking that will be the one that makes the wood buckle from the force.
I’m going to drown.
Why did I let him take me on a boat? Itoldhim I’m not a strong swimmer!
Where the hell are those life jackets he promised me? I need one, but I’m not sure I have the willpower to leave the bathroom. And I’ll be damned if I call out tohimfor help.
Those cold, cold eyes haunt me just as much as the terrified, helpless, intrusive thoughts of drowning.
Now is not the time to relive that breathtaking, heart-wrenching moment of being on the sharpest precipice of desire and having him yank it all away. When he put his thumb in my mouth and his hand around my throat, I almost melted on the spot. I was like a lit firework of need, ready to explode at any second.
Every part of my body ached for him, and he just… turned away.
It doesn’t matter how badly we both seemed to want it, how the air crackled around us with electricity. He decided for both of us. He won’t let us find out.
Why? Because he’s violent. Because, according to him, he’d ruin me.
Ruin me.
Ruin me? What does that even mean?
What would it be like to be ruined by that man? I’m not sure I don’t want to find out.
The boat heaves, shaking as it comes back to center, and I bite my lip to contain the whimper. Fuck this bathroom. I’m not drowning next to a toilet. Maybe the life jackets are in the space above the clothes in the closet.
I shoot out of my seat and grab the door and wall, making my way out into the bedroom area. I try to keep my center of gravity low and keep ahold of sturdy things as I cross the room, but there’s another sharp tilt and I go flying onto the bed. It’s mostly a soft landing, but my forehead crashes into the wall and the contents of the shelf above my head come flying off. A pile of books blankets me, bruising and poking, and I cry out.
What starts as a simple pain response morphs into something greater, and soon I’m choking on heavy, wet, fearful sobs. I curl into a ball, hugging my knees as best I can around my stomach and rubbing the spot of impact above my brow.
Some of it’s about the storm, sure, but it’s also been a horrible couple of days. First with Kyle and being threatened with a gun—an event my subconscious likes to replay, sending me nightmares where I can’t outrun his shadow—then being forced onto this wood-and-brass death trap, then being cooped up with someone who makes me feel like I’m on fire…
The door opens. “Nicole? I heard…” Dimitri stops himself, taking in the scene.
I don’t dare open my eyes—I don’t want to see the expression on his face when his voice is so even and gruff. I don’t want to see him at all.
“What happened?” he demands. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I bite out, trying to curl into a ball small enough that he won’t see me. Likethat’spossible.
“You are… crying. Because you are hurt?” There’s a heavy pause, and I can picture him scanning the horizontal length of my body. “Or… frightened?”
I don’t bother answering, but I crack an eyelid. There he is, a dark shape in the dim light, a hunched but massive presence. His hair and clothes look wet, like he’s been out there in the rain. At least, I hope… so far it has stayed blissfully dry in the cabin down here, but I don’t think I can handle the implications of taking on water.
