Page 13 of His to Ruin
Waking up this morning was … jarring. I can’t tell if I’m being haunted, suffering from insomnia induced hallucinations, or if I’m going completely insane, but something is definitely not normal.
I had the most vivid dreams last night about being fucked by a demon—no, bymydemon. Kallum. The name elicits pleasurable tingles to run through my body. In my dreams his eyes bore down on me with such intensity that I nearly burst into flames. Bits and pieces, flashbulbs of bizarre dreams, have been skittering through my mind all morning. The dried, flaky white cum I was covered in when I woke, and the disastrous state of my bedding, certainly suggest that my dream was real. But when I woke, there was no one else here. Just me, myself, and I. Did I really dream it all up and then cum all over myself in my sleep?
Shit, I really need to get a grip on things.
I scrubbed my body for much longer than normal in the shower, desperately attempting to erase all evidence of whathappened. My skin was red and raw by the time I managed to get all the flakes of crusted white release off my body.
Which means I’m running late. Normally I like to take the long way to work, walking slowly through the tall trees and savoring my coffee. Today, I’ll have to take the direct path and grab some caffeine from the cafe inside the bookshop. Shit, I hate being late. It makes my anxiety skyrocket. Rationally, I understand that nothing bad will happen if I’m a few minutes late, but you try explaining that to my anxiety riddled mind.
Throwing on the first pair of jeans I can find and my go-to brown and tan plaid flannel, I swiftly run a hand through my hair in an attempt to tame the unruly blonde waves. I hobble down the hall, slipping on one sock then the other as I go. My eyes scan the apartment, hurriedly searching for my phone among the chaos. I was fairly certain I left it on my counter in the kitchen but it’s definitely not there. Wait, did I bring it to bed?
Why is last night such a blur?
I glance at the clock on my microwave. Damn, I have to be at work in five minutes. I don’t have any more time to search for my phone. I’ll have to search for it later.Crap. Grabbing my keys off the counter and opening the door, I cast one final glance over my shoulder. The feeling of eyes assessing me crawls over my skin. A cold shiver slides down my spine. My eyes land on the shadows of the hallway back to my room. I canfeelsomething there, watching me. A haunting gaze assessing me from within the darkness. It’s almost as though I can hear it whispering to me, urging me back into the shadows.
Turning my face back to the bright sun of the cool autumn morning, I slam the door firmly behind me and head off to work. It’s just my mind playingtricks on me.
“I need another cup.”Kaleb sighs, grabbing his empty paper cup off the counter. “Want another refill as well?”
I absolutely could use another cup. It’s been a hell of a morning. After the rough start, my damn-near sprint to the shop, finding my discarded messenger bag on the path soaked and muddied, followed by a string of short-tempered customers, I will take all the caffeine I can get. I can practically feel the puffy bags forming beneath my tired eyes.
“Thanks, that’d be great,” I reply as I hand him my matching paper cup.
As Kaleb disappears to the back of the store, his broad shoulders shifting between the stacks, the chime above the door sounds. I continue breaking the coin roll in the register, banging it against the sharp plastic of the drawer in an attempt to snap through the thick paper. The next hit causes the casing to break. Dimes explode from the roll, cascading into the slot of the cash drawer with a satisfying metallic clink.
“Oh, thank goodness, Christian!” someone shouts. I can see their form approaching the register from my periphery.
My eyes shoot up to see Sam rushing toward the front counter where I’m standing. His short brown hair is combed tightly away from his face. His thin glasses sit slightly askew on the bridge of his nose. He’s wearing a brightly colored button down with a thick cream sweater over top and khakis. Something about the khakis grates against my nerves, as if their mundaneness has personally offended me. He’s just so … beige.
“Sam.” I try to sound cheerful as I raise a handin greeting and close the register. It’s a half-hearted hello and he can hear it immediately in my voice. His eyes narrow as he assesses me from behind his glasses.
“Why haven’t you returned any of my calls or texts this morning?” he scolds as he shimmies up to the counter. “I was worried after last night.”
Last night? Did I call him? Shit, I can’t really remember exactly what happened.
“Sorry, I couldn’t find my phone this morning,” I mumble as I search for Kaleb’s lumbering form. I really could use another cup of coffee.
“Christian.” Sam’s sharp scolding tone draws the attention of several patrons nearby and I internally cringe. “Have you been taking your medication?”
And that’s enough of this very public conversation.
Rounding the counter, I tug Sam by the wrist toward the back of the store. I’m sure Kaleb will be right back to deal with the customers. Pulling Sam behind me, I lead him away from prying eyes and ears, weaving through rows and rows of books until we finally reach the shadowy back corner. Once there, I spin to face him.
“Sam, why are you here?” I bluntly ask. “We broke up. What I do, or choose not to do, isn’t any of your business anymore.”
He looks slightly taken aback, hurt swirls in his brown irises as we stare at each other. A little ashamed, my eyes flit down to the floor. It’s hard to see much in this dimly lit back corner of the store, and yet I swear the shadows just moved, shifting slightly up Sam’s leg.
What the hell?
“I know we broke up.” Sam’s warm palm lands on my cheek, tilting my head back toward his gaze. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you.” He leans in more, pressinghis body against mine. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.” The last words leave his mouth as barely a whisper, tickling my skin.
This is how it always goes with us—he’s overbearing and slightly demeaning, then sweet. Next comes the very vanilla make up sex. We’ve done this so many times. But I’m sick of this toxic pattern and lustless relationship.
“Sam, listen?—”
“Ow!” Sam’s shriek interrupts my intended rejection.
I step back, giving him space as he doubles over in pain with both hands grabbing his crotch. He lets out a little whimper of pain.