Shadow in My Living Room - (alt-view)

I don't think I can ever get on another plane again. I'm not sure if that's from the fear of seeing him again, or the fear of confronting how he made me feel. Either way, I need a break.

I texted Jamison tonight. A simple, "Hey... I've been thinking about you. Can you come over tonight?" I don't know what I want from him, or even what I think of him, but I know he'll be a nice escape. His reply was.. weird. Just a quick, "Omw." Maybe he feels the same? Nothing serious between us, just fun. It's whatever, I guess.

As I sit on my couch and turn on a random movie, my mind accidentally wandered to Him. The things he did to me. Despite him plaguing my thoughts I quickly shut it down and force my mind back onto Jamison. When I check my phone I see that It's been about half an hour, so he should be here soon. I still can't figure out why my heart started to race at the thought.

Just as the movie is getting to a jump scare a sudden *Bang* sounds at my door. Perfect fucking timing he almost gave me a heart attack. He knocks on my door a couple more times, rather loudly, and I set my phone on the little coffee table in front of my couch and stand up. Sounds like he's aggravated about something if his lack of consideration for my door hinges were any clue.

"Coming!" I call out as I make my way to the door and start undoing all the locks. Can never be too careful when I literally have a stalker. I chuckle to myself at the thought as I undo the last chain and start to open the door, practically throwing it open to tell him to stop trying to break my shit.

As I do my heart stops.

My mind goes quiet and I feel the blood completely drain from my face as I come face to face with my stalker. The man who's been haunting my nightmares every night since the plane. Since the bar. Since.. I can't even remember when I wasn't being tormented by him anymore.

After a moment my mind finally starts working again and I get the bright idea to slam the door in his face before he can get inside, but as I do he stops it with his foot and my heart drops again. So I panic and run.

"Where are you going, little mouse," he says. I don't fucking know, but my instincts just scream at me to get away. I run to the furthest room down the hall, my bedroom, and slam the door shut. I really need to get locks on all the rooms. Still panting to catch my breath, I look around my room frantically for a weapon. You'd think I'd have a gun with everything I've gone through, but no. My proud ass thought kickboxing lessons from freshman year was enough.

Finally my eyes land on my crafting table and I spot a pair of scissors. I immediately lunge for them as I hear his muffled voice say, "Does Daddy need to teach you how to shut your door?" Then he proceeds to lock any outside help from getting in. Oh my god what will Jamison think? I don't want him to get hurt. I shove my hands in my pockets for my phone to call him, but all I feel is emptiness. Then I remember I left it on the couch.. fuck.

As I feel my mind shutting down, preparing for the worst, I press my back into the wall adjacent to the door. Eventually I slide down and sit on the floor, clutching the scissors to my chest like they're the last shred of hope. Because they literally are. I can still hear his muffled voice occasionally, as well as his footsteps as he wanders my apartment, but my mind is slowly filling with a steady buzz as I try to focus.

Until I suddenly smell bacon.

Without thinking I blurt out, "What the fuck, are you cooking in my apartment!?" That arrogant prick is seriously eating my food. That's just rude.

I need to think of a plan, because sitting here obviously isn't working.

"You fucking psycho if you don't get out right now I'm calling the cops!" No response. Did he see my phone? New plan. "It won't be long until they get here, and my friend is coming over! He will be here any minute so you better leave or else he will kick your ass!" Maybe that did it. Part of me hopes Jamison just won't show, if his text was any indicator he didn't really give a shit about me, but then my threat will be meaningless and there's no one coming to save me.

Just then I realized my grip on the scissors had relaxed as I was berating him with empty threats. Almost as If my body subconsciously knew I didn't need them because he wouldn't hurt me.

Then I hear his muffled, sarcastic voice say, "Dinner is ready, come get it while it's hot!" Jesus this guy is on something. I mean of course he's crazy, with everything he's done to me, but this is something else entirely. I guess I didn't answer quick enough because I hear him start making his way down the hall.

When I hear the first *bang* of him kicking in my office door, I jump and feel a tear slip down my cheek. Now I can't tell the difference between my heart pounding in my chest or him taking my door down. A sob escapes me, and I quickly cover my mouth to try and stifle it, but it's too late. I hear him close in on me and say, "Open the door." Ordering me like I was going to make this any easier for him. I shut my eyes and start hyperventilating, gripping the scissors tight enough it starts to sting. I can't help it now as the tears flow freely down my face.

Then I hear the handle start to move, and I turn my head to watch my bedroom door cave in like my chest.

The second it opens, my mind goes eerily calm and I pounce. As soon as his arm is in sight I scream and drive the scissors into it. I hear him mutter, "Bitch," and for a split second I think I've done enough damage to possibly make a run for it. Until he grabs my throat and slams me into the wall I was just cowering against. The adrenaline is gone and all that's left is despair as I claw at his hand on my throat and try to get air.

I watch him closely as he looks at the scissors sticking out of his arm, and his answering laugh sends chills throughout my entire body. At that moment I notice just how much my body is betraying me between my legs, but quickly shut down the thought, even as I squeeze my thighs together.

"Pull it out." I glance at the scissors in response, not sure what to do or say. After a moment of internal debate, I realize there's no point in fighting. He has me. I gingerly reach up and grip the scissors tightly and pull them out, almost gagging at the blood dripping off them.

"Cut your hair off." Another command. His grin made my heart skip when it shouldn't. Then my mind finally catches up to what he said and my heart sinks in my chest. He knows I love my hair. Why is he punishing me for using common sense?! He attacked me! "Please tell me you're joking-"

"NOW!" His voice boomed through the entire apartment and my skull. I could physically feel it push me further into the wall, if that was even possible.

My false confidence was quickly slipping from my fingers as I slowly grabbed a handful of my hair. I feel the wetness on my cheeks before I even realize I started crying again as I beg him, "Please I.. I don't know what you want from me but.. don't.." I could barely finish the sentence as my throat started to close.

"All I want to hear is the noise of those scissors as they slice through your hair." His face was so close I could feel his breath fan across my lips. "Now." The raw power in his command had my knees shaking to hold me up. I'd probably fall to the floor if he wasn't choking me against the wall still.

The sound of the scissors cutting through my hair sounded like my heart tearing in half. Like it's being torn in two different directions because It doesn't know how to feel. One part is devastated while the other...

"Don't ever stab me again. Next time, it won't be your hair that I make you cut." Jesus fucking Christ what do I do?

Before I know it, he lets go of my throat and grabs my wrist in an iron grip and starts pulling me to my living room, where a chair is now sitting directly in front of my tv.

I'm so transfixed on the fact that I didn't put it there that I barely hear him tell me to sit. At this point I'm so conflicted my body is slowly starting to shut down and go into autopilot. I'm partially grateful for the command so I don't have to think anymore as I practically fall into the chair.

Yet a small part of me deep down doesn't want to stop fighting. "He'll be here any minute, so if you have any sick plans you better just save it and leave now while-" My voice trails off as I glance from him in my kitchen to the counter, where I see a box filled with.. a fucking bloody finger with Jamison's class ring on it and a rose oh my god I'm going to die tonight.

He starts walking towards me with a plate of food in one hand and an arrogant grin on his face, glancing at the box on the counter, "Ah, I see. Your boyfriend was generous enough to let me give you this gift on his behalf-"

"What did you do to him?!" My chest feels like an empty pit of complete hopelessness. I don't care if I make him angry anymore, it doesn't matter. The tears start to fall freely again as I hyperventilate, and my mind starts to fill with that steady buzz again. Everything inside me is breaking and there's nothing I can do about it.

"You signed his death warrant when you asked him to come over." The way he said it, so final, had doubt slowly creeping back into my mind. Was it my fault? I knew he wanted me, and I knew what he was capable of, yet I still texted Jamison. My entire body freezes as devastation rolls through me. I can barely feel my nails digging into my legs with pure rage at either his actions or my mistake, it doesn't matter. My eyes wander aimlessly, but I can't see anything except my own carelessness. I barely register him crossing my path and waving the plate of food in front of my face. "Suit yourself." Then I hear what sounds like chewing, so I assume he's eating as I keep spiraling in my own mind.

"Oh, I picked out a movie for our date." He says while chewing rather obnoxiously, irritating the shit out of me as he clicks on the movie. Somehow that snaps me out of it and I can see again, focusing on the tv. After a moment the sound of my noise machine registers in my brain and my eyes bug out of my head as I jump out of the chair, sending it flying back to the ground.

My mouth suddenly starts working again, "What the fuck!?"

"Sit down. I think you'll like it." This arrogant prick. My chest starts to cave in again as I take a good look at the screen and realize it's me, lying in bed fast asleep. How did he get a camera in here? How did I not hear him and wake up?

"What kind of sick fuck are you?" I slowly start backing away from him towards my front door but stop myself. He locked it, surely. It would take too long to open it before he'd grab me. "What do you want from me?" I ask, but my voice trails off as it escapes me like my will to fight.

"I want you to sit down." He says as he points to the chair, "I was forced to go without dinner because you so desperately needed company, so pick up that chair you knocked over and I'll be with you in a moment." He talks down to me like a receptionist would a teenager showing up for an appointment. I need time to figure out what to do, so I might as well play along for now.

I pick up the chair and sit down, focusing on the tv, watching him slowly approach my sleeping form, just watching me. I'm filled with nothing but disgust, at both his actions and me for not waking up. While I'm distracted I feel him tie my arms down to the chair, and I'm so paralyzed with fear at this point that I can't fight him. I don't know if he can tell or if he even cares that I'm gone.

Suddenly a *slap* across my left cheek snaps my head to the side, the sting instantly bringing tears to my eyes as I glare at him. "You won't be dissociating your way out of this, little mouse. You will feel everything." That statement tugged on my heart in a way I didn't know it could. I can't tell if I'm scared of the challenge, or if I'm sad that he actually hurt me. He then goes to stand directly in front of me, blocking my view of the tv, which makes me more nervous since I can still hear it but don't know what he's doing. Almost like I'm asleep again and he can do whatever he wants without my knowing.

As he reaches down and grips the edge of my pajama shorts he asks, "May I take off your pants?" Oh, NOW he asks for permission? Is this a joke? I give him the faintest nod in response, mentally accepting what I know is about to happen. He can have my body, but that's it. He can't have what really matters, what I know he really wants. He pulls my shorts down, pulling my hips forward on the chair slightly, and lets them fall to the floor by my feet.

"And your panties?" I take longer to answer this time. They're the last layer protecting me. I can't make it that easy for him, can I? So I shake my head, showing the last bit of fight I have left in me. "No?" He says, humming to himself, then standing up and roughly grabbing my now short hair and tilting my head back so I'm forced to look at him. "Are you sure?"

I feel like he can see the debate going on inside my head through my eyes, so I nod and give him a simple, "Yes." In his own sick, twisted way I know he cares for me, but I also know he's stubborn. His face is much harder to read so I can't tell what his choice will be.

"Then stop me." I gasp as he slaps me again. He then goes down to his knees, and my eyes widen in terror at what I see on the tv now in view. I watch him pull the blanket off my sleeping body in the video as he starts pulling off my panties in real life. I snap myself out of it enough to push my butt into the seat and stop him, which worked until he picked up the same scissors I used to cut my hair to now cut the sides of my panties. They now hang loosely on my hips and he's easily able to rip them off.

"Spread your legs." He says it with a surprising gentleness that catches me off guard, but my eyes are still glued to the tv as he climbs into the bed with me, the blanket completely gone. I'm completely exposed to him in my oversized t-shirt and panties that I wore that night. In my peripheral I think I see him glance back at the tv, then look back at my black lace thong now on the floor in shreds. He takes a deep breath then says, "You were really going to fuck him." He's getting angry. I don't want him to hurt me anymore than he already has, so I slowly spread my legs, exposing my bare pussy to him. No doubt he can see how much my body has already betrayed me, even I can't ignore it.

"You need this." He says it with such finality I'm not sure I can question him. Which makes no sense because he's done nothing but torment me and make my life a living hell. He murdered Jamison. Completely broke me. I got so lost in thought I didn't notice him getting closer until I felt his breath against me. My eyes dart from him between my legs to him in the video, slowly sliding his hand down my still sleeping form as he lays next to me, taking his sweet time to feel every curve. Just as his hand slides over my breast I feel his lips against me, barely touching as he moans and sends the faintest vibrations through me. My breath catches in my throat and my mouth opens in a silent gasp. I'm doing good not making any noise until his tongue darts through my lips to taste me, and It's almost impossible to stay quiet.

But then he continues his assault on me with his tongue, and after a few minutes I can't keep my body still anymore and I slowly start to squeeze my thighs on his head and slightly thrust my hips. Eventually I'm just riding his tongue, panting, matching his breathing in the video as his hand reaches my panties and I can hear how excited he's getting. Seeing how turned on I make him gets me even more excited. Just as his hand dips under my panties, he deepens his kiss on me. There was not one inch of my pussy his tongue wasn't exploring. And I wanted more. When his tongue finally flicks my clit I can't control the, "Fuck," that slips out and how I automatically squeeze my thighs tighter. I could've swore I felt him grin as he kept going, not giving me one second of relief as he repeated that same action.

"Good girl." Fucking hell he knows exactly what he's doing to me. His husky voice is a turn on by itself as he pulls back, fanning his warm breath over me before he continues. Now he's running his fingers down my thighs, roughly pushing them apart as he gets more ravenous, and I'm so wet I'm making a complete mess all over his mouth. Little moans keep escaping me now and I know he can hear them as they get louder and I get closer to an orgasm.

Then he focuses on my clit entirely and I completely fold. I'm not supposed to feel this. I'm not supposed to want him. There's something wrong with me. But I'm not sure If I care anymore.

I feel his finger lightly graze my taint then slide up and slowly enter me, and I immediately clench myself on him. I then remember the video and look up to see he's also fingering me under my panties and stroking himself at the same time. That alone almost sends me over the edge as I let out a low, long moan as I feel him curl his finger inside me. My eyes are glued to the tv and I can tell he's getting close himself as he fingers me and starts stroking himself faster. Seeing that paired with him touching me now is almost too much. My legs are shaking from how hard I grip them on his head, trapping him there until I finish.

It's like he can tell I'm close, because he starts going faster at the perfect fucking time. I cry out as the orgasm suddenly crashes into me, and I explode all over his mouth. He then finishes in the video shortly after, somehow not getting anything on me so I wouldn't notice when I woke up. My arms start to burn from the strain against the ropes as I cum and for a second I'm worried he can't breathe from how tightly I'm holding him between my thighs. He continues to suck on my clit and lick my pussy through it, and I keep grinding my hips into him to savor it.

After a moment he simply stands up, kisses my forehead as I'm still trying to catch my breath and says, "Good job, princess."

What am I going to do..?