Captive in the Dark(52)

I’m hurrying down the sidewalk, trying to get away from the sinister man in the car behind me when I look up and see him. Perhaps it’s his easy stride, or the way his gaze sweeps past me instead of over me, but for whatever reason, he seems safe. I throw my arms about his waist and whisper, “Just play along okay.”

Beyond the prison of my dream, I feel real sweat trickling down my neck. Obscurely, I’m aware of my tossing and turning, but I can’t put together why I feel so uneasy.

He does and I’m surprised when his arms wrap around me. The moment of danger seems to pass very quickly, but for some reason I don’t want to let go. I feel safe in these arms and I’ve never really felt safe before. And he smells good, he smells the way I imagine a man should smell, like crisp, clean soap, and warm skin, and a light sweat. I think I’m taking too long to let go, so I release him as though he’s burned me. Then I stare up and acknowledge the angel in front of me. My knees almost buckle.

Outside the dream, I can hear myself whimper. Part of me knows why I don’t want to keep looking at him, but I can’t stop it from happening. I dream in third person, and I’m a spectator here.

He is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, that includes puppies, babies, rainbows, sunsets, and sunrises. I can’t even call him a man – men don’t look this good. His skin is beautifully tanned, as if the sun itself took the time to kiss his skin to perfection. His muscled forearms are dusted with the same golden hair of his head. And his eyes mimic the blue-green of the Caribbean Sea I’ve only seen on movie posters.

He smiles, and I can’t help but smile too. I’m a puppet. He pulls my strings. His smile reveals his beautiful white teeth, but also his sharp canine on the left side. His teeth aren’t perfect, and the small imperfection seems to make him more beautiful.

He’s saying something to me, something about another girl, but I refuse to listen.

Off in the distance, I hear a familiar voice, my voice. Inside the dream? Outside the dream?

I’m unsure. All I know is that I’m begging for the dream to stop. I didn’t find what I was looking for – the thing I missed. I should stop, now, before I get to the unbearable part, the part that has nothing to do with memory, but fantasy, desire.

I lean in and tilt my head up. I want him to put those full lips to good use, I won’t take no for an answer. When his tongue slides across the seam of my lips I feel things between my legs I have never felt before. I feel an aching sort of fullness and abruptly I can feel my heart beating not only in my chest, but within those secret folds. I moan behind the kiss and shortly after I hear him moan too.

I want to touch him every where. I don’t care if he takes me right here on the sidewalk, that’s how badly I want him. I don’t care what my mother will say. For him I’ll be a whore. I’m glad I’ve waited. I’m glad it’s him who gets to have me.

His hand has found its way into my hair, and for some reason I sense danger, but I make the feeling go away.

The kiss has turned hungry, ravenous – my lips hurt a little. His hand has become a fist in my hair. The sensation is familiar but distant. I want to keep kissing.



Do I taste beer? It’s suddenly all too familiar.

A kiss. A touch.

‘Is this what you do when I go to bed Livvie? You put on your puta clothes and try to seduce your father?’

‘He’s not my dad!’ He’s the one to blame. Not me.

‘Act like a whore and you’ll get treated like one Livvie.’

Without warning I am hit with an overwhelming sense of grief. Something is horribly wrong.

I pull back from the kiss and my eyes go wide with horror.

The same youthful face I’d found beautiful beyond all explanation, looks back at me with a menacing expression. His eyes still remind me of the sea, but instead of sunny Caribbean beaches, I now see hideous creatures of the deep lurking in the depths of his gaze. No longer an angel, he is the devil I have always feared.

My eyes flew open and I stared into the nothingness surrounding me. My heart pounded, my tears welled, but despite it all – I was shamefully wet between my legs. Old dread threatened to pull me into fresh hell and I fought hard to keep it from happening.

Caleb slept peacefully beside me, his arm wrapped around me like a vise. I should’ve been struggling to get up. But truth be told, the press of his muscular body against my back gave me a feeling of comfort I’d been longing for, for weeks. For years. And besides, it was actually cool in his room. It lacked all the hot stickiness that seemed to permeate throughout my room. My room