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You watch as Eden makes his way to the edge of the clearing, not even making a sound as he steps over the fallen leaves and disappears into the forest. How a man his size can move so quietly, you don’t know. It’s an ability of his that never fails to frighten you. Maybe that’s why he reminds you so much of a wild animal, a thorough predator, able to hunt without alerting his prey until he has it between his teeth.
And yet, for all of his brutality there is a certain softness to Eden that you can’t deny. He has started to trust you, enough to show you a softer side of him, enough to discard your leash. A newfound gentleness that scares you more than any of his outbursts do. Because with each day it’s getting harder to despise him, to not lean into his touch.
You wait long after his body is engulfed by the forest, just to be sure that he isn’t coming back prematurely, and rush back inside the cabin to search through his wardrobe for something to cover yourself with. Fabric is cast aside with desperation, leaving stacks of it across the floor. You aren’t looking for something that will fit you well, there is nothing in there that could, but you need to be able to run in it if—
You draw back your hand as if stung. Laying there, at the bottom of one of the cabinets, you find clothes your size. Those aren’t the ones he found you in, since he ripped them into scraps the first night you refused his advances. These look new. Eden bought them with you in mind and it makes you think that he’s starting to see you as a person, not just a pet to soothe his loneliness with.
A wave of nausea leaves you faint with guilt. It’s nearly enough to make you scramble to put the clothes back in their place, to wait until Eden gets back and cry for his forgiveness.
“I’m sorry! Please, it didn’t mean it!” your cries fall on deaf ears as Eden drags you to the chimney, strengthening his hold on your wrist while you beg him to let you go, because you fear that he’ll truly break it this time.
He shoves you to the ground, and you can feel the heat of the flames at your side. They cast menacing shadows on his face, highlighting the swollen red lines across his skin. His handsome features are twisted with rage, stripping him of what little humanity he had left, because no man should be able to look as bestial as he does at that moment.
“Bad dogs get punished,” he says through gritted teeth, “maybe with this you’ll finally learn.” He grabs your elbow and, with a swift movement, pulls your hand into the flames.
You can't stop now.
How can you even consider staying here? With this man that treats you like an animal, making you bend over backwards to please him unless you provoke his ire? No matter how gentle he's becoming, you can't forget the horror he's put you through. You know the strength of his bite and no matter how much he may try to lick the wound clean, he’ll never be able to stop the bleeding.
You dress with shaking hands and the sensation of fabric on your skin feels alien for a moment, it makes you wonder how long you’ve been trapped here. Maybe a month, maybe a year, you'll know soon enough. Ignoring the anxiety growing inside you, you give in to the temptation and write him a goodbye that he doesn't deserve. It's just a shameful "I'm sorry" that you leave on the dinner table.
Then, you run.
And it almost feels like you’re betraying him.
The street is nearly devoid of people when you emerge from the trees. It seems like a lifetime has passed since the last time you saw anything like this: women with impeccable hair, men with suits and ties, the occasional car moving through the street. It shouldn’t frighten you, it’s a sight that you have seen a thousand times, it should be normal. But you feel exposed all the same.
The sudden realization that you’re on your own leaves you dizzy.
The Orphanage is out of the question, you can’t go there without some money to your name. It’s foolish to think that Bailey would go easy on you, that she would give you some time to process your emotions before starting to demand her payments once again. That is, of course, if she even takes you back.
Maybe you could ask for shelter at the Temple? It seems safer than staying with the police, they would ask questions about the bruises, the bite marks. And you aren’t willing to answer that.
You look around the street, forcing yourself to breathe slowly. And as your shoulders begin to tremble, a pair of surprised eyes meet yours. The man crosses the street, his red hair awfully familiar. He calls your name and it takes you a minute to remember him because you haven’t seen your English teacher in… well, you don’t know.
You’ve been missing for six months, that’s what Doren tells you once you’re inside his apartment.
You’re sitting on a blue couch while he makes coffee in the kitchen. The sunlight bathes the room in soft orange and the warmth of the afternoon calm some of your nerves, enough to brave a look at Doren as he approaches you. He places a mug in your hands, before sitting down at the other end of the furniture, leaving a wide berth between the both of you.
He examines your frame, paying special attention to the scars on your hand. The urge to try and decipher his emotions is overwhelming, and even though you know he won’t hurt you —and thus, there is no need to analyze every twitch of his lips or the slight changes in his eyes—, you do it anyway. You watch his face go through many emotions in a quick span of time, but relief and worry seem to rule his features for the most part.
Suddenly you can’t bear to look at him anymore, so you stare at the coffee instead. It’s nearly black, but you can still see traces of brown in the liquid. The color feels familiar. And your treacherous mind immediately reminds you why.
Eden is reading that book again, the one with a mansion on the cover. You recognize it from your English class and even though you don’t recall the plot in detail, you know it’s supposed to be a romance between a governess and her employer.
If you weren’t so scared of him, maybe you would consider his taste in literature endearing. Perhaps you would ask him to read to you. But you do fear him, so you take your place at his side on the cabin’s floor.
You hug your knees close to your chest, letting your head rest on top of them. The heat of the fireplace warms your cold limbs. You close your eyes, pretending that you’re somewhere else, but it’s a struggle to even remember the last place where you felt safe.
As you recall your memories, you feel Eden’s hand brush the top of your head. Your body tenses as fear shots through your veins. You can only hope that he’ll go back to his book if you don’t react, but you can’t stop your body from trembling under his touch, even as you bite your tongue to ground yourself with the pain.
His strokes become rougher and you dread the moment when he pushes you down to the floor. But when you look in his direction, Eden suddenly stops. He meets your eyes briefly, an awkward expression on his face, before drawing back his hand and returning to his book once again. It’s like nothing happened, but he can’t conceal the faint blush that spreads across his skin.
Is he feeling shy?
After everything he has done to you?
The sheer absurdity that a beast like him, — always demanding, always hungry, always brutal — , can even blush is nearly enough to make you laugh. But you don’t. Because the sudden realization that he isn’t a wild animal leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
He glances at you and it’s so ridiculous that the first thing you notice is that his eyes aren’t black like you always thought, but brown. It’s just a silly discovery, but it makes you think that there must be so much more to him, things that he hasn’t shown to anyone in his life. And you want to be the one to know them.
It leaves you feeling disgusted with yourself.
“You don’t have to tell me anything until you’re ready,” Doren’s voice startles you, and the mug shakes dangerously before you manage to steady your hands. “Just know that I’ll help you, no matter what.”
“I… I don’t know where to begin.”
“Your family must be missing you. Is there a way to contact them?” He must see the pain in your expression and make an accurate assumption, because he is quick to add: “Your legal guardian?”
“I can’t believe that you remember me,” you cringe at your own words, have you forgotten how to talk like a normal person?
“Of course I do,” he holds your hands in a comforting gesture, but it feels wrong. There’s only one man who can touch you, and it’s not him. “If you don’t feel ready to go home, I won’t pressure you. But we need to inform the police that…”
The mug trembles in your hands, and you don’t even notice when Doren takes it from you.
You can’t go there. What if they call Bailey? You still don’t have money to your name, a punishment from her would break you. Not to mention that they would ask about Eden. And the bitter reality is that you won’t tell the truth, because you’ve already caused him too much pain. You can’t bear to betray him again.
“I won’t go,” the determination in your voice not only surprises Doren, but you as well. When was the last time you said something with so much resolve?
“We need to,” he replies in a calm, but firm tone. “At least so they know you aren’t missing anymore. And they’re the only ones who can take off…” he glances at your neck, “the collar.”
You bring your hands to your neck and feel the cold object under your fingertips. You had forgotten about your collar. And you should feel ashamed for that, but it’s… It’s has been with you for so long that now it feels like an extension of yourself, and the very idea of parting with it leaves you unsettled. Yet, you know that it’s just another mark of Eden’s ownership over you.
You should take it off.
“Can you give me some time, please?”
Doren looks ready to argue, but something in your expression stops him. In the end, he sighs and puts the mug on the coffee table.
“I’m sorry,” he almost breathes the words. “I know this can be overwhelming for you, we’ll talk about this in a week, alright? Some rest will be good for you.”
Hope blooms in your chest for the first time since you left the forest, it leaves you anxious with tentative happiness. You can sort your feeling in a week. You could even get the money for Bailey in that time too, right? You used to do it all the time, it shouldn’t be too difficult to accomplish. That way you can go back to the Orphanage, avoid the police and wait until you’re ready to take off the collar.
“Thank you,” and you really mean it, even if Doren doesn’t know about your plan.
You toss and turn on the bed, trying to get yourself comfortable and finally sleep. The mattress is soft, the pajamas are clean and the room even smells nice. It should be easy to surrender to the fatigue that clings to your bones, but your mind keeps you awake with disturbing thoughts of rough touches and hungry eyes.
You don’t want to think about Eden, but his absence is something that you can’t ignore when the bed feels empty and cold without him. You don’t miss him. You don’t want to go back to him. But the smell of the forest comes to your mind anyway.
Eden grips your knees, aligning himself with your wet entrance. The head of his cock goes in easily enough and you’re suddenly grateful that he used lube tonight. Yet, your relief is short-lived when he thrusts deep inside you, making you gasp as your hole struggles to allow the intrusion.
Tears threaten to spill from your eyes. And when you begin to squirm under him, Eden lets go of your legs in favor of pinning you down with his weight, crushing you under his broad chest. The angle forces his cock deeper, and you let out a strangled cry.
“That’s it,” his lips brush your cheek, “you’re taking me so well, pet.”
It takes him another push to finally bottom out, groaning obscenely against your neck. And even after all this time, the burning stretch of it leaves you weak and malleable.
The pace starts off slow, with Eden easing back and forth a few inches, getting a feel for the motion. You close your eyes and try to focus on anything but him, but the task becomes impossible as his movements turn rougher, making you feel every gland and vein of the massive cock inside you.
You’re vaguely aware of your broken sobs, drowned under the filthy sound of him filling you over and over again. He’s bucking into you with abandon, ruthlessly rubbing your sex against his abdomen with each thrust. The sensation is all-consuming, leaving your face wet with tears that Eden’s all too happy to lick clean, before biting your cheek until it hurts.
“See how good — ” he pants against the bruise, “how good can it be if you don’t resist me?”
And it is. His cock touches every part of your insides, pushing deliciously against that sweet spot that leaves you breathless. Unwanted pleasure invades your mind as Eden shoves you into the furs of the bed, engulfing your body with his frame and reminding you of how big he truly is. It makes you feel so fragile, like he could break you without trying. And the worst thing is that some perverse part of you loves it, because all your shame isn’t enough to stop you from cumming with a silent scream.
Your body shakes while Eden fucks you through your orgasm, allowing you to hear his moans as you squeeze his cock. You’re sobbing, gasping as he splits you open and drags your pleasure to a painful degree. And he doesn’t slow down as you come back from your high, he keeps thrusting wildly into you, even as you start babbling about how it’s too much.
“We just got started,” Eden lets out a raspy chuckle, “you’ve been so good tonight pet, don’t disappoint me now.”
He pulls out and turns you around in a fluid movement, leaving you on your hands and knees. He wastes no time in plunging back into you, even as your arms buckle under your own weight and you drop to the bed, your hips held up only by Eden’s grip.
His brutal pace leaves you shaking, unable to do anything but lay there as your limbs twitch helplessly at your sides, soft whimpers leaving your mouth. The only thing that feels real is Eden panting over you, shoving your face into the furs with the force of his lunges and threatening to smother you.
He kisses your neck, just above the collar, and moves his lips to your shoulder. Before you know it he sinks his teeth into your flesh. It’s a terrible burn, but somehow it drives you so crazy that you moan his name without shame.
“I knew you would learn to like it,” you can feel his smile against your throat, sounding so pleased as one of his hands reaches down to rub your throbbing sex.
Your inebriated brain struggles to comprehend what’s happening anymore, even as a well-known wave of hot pleasure starts forming inside you. It’s just too much. You want to scream, to make him stop, to urge him to continue. And yet, you do none of those things. The air leaves your lungs as your orgasm ripples through your body, making you whine miserably as Eden fills you to bursting with each thrust.
He stops touching your aching sex to hold your hips properly, putting his weight into every thrust. You have no choice but to remain there — completely wrecked and oversensitive — , as he continues to abuse your hole, moaning whenever a spark of pleasure runs over your used body. It’s only when you finally think you’re going to pass out that Eden holds you close and comes with a groan, giving you a last brutal thrust before bathing your insides with his spend.
He stays still for a moment to catch his breath, before pulling out of you with a wet pop and rolling over his side of the bed.
You sink into the furs without the support of his hands holding you up. It leaves you feeling cold after being in his embrace for so long, but you’re too tired to be disgusted with yourself for thinking so. You’re just relieved to know that you can finally rest for the night, even as his semen drips from your hole to the bed.
You’re succumbing to sleep when Eden comes closer, and you’re too weak to squirm when he kisses the bloody mark on your shoulder. He says something against your skin, but you can’t understand him because finally, mercifully, you pass out.
You merely wanted to go for a walk, just to get used to being around people again and stop jumping at every sound. Doren even told you it was a good idea. But once you left the apartment, it was like your feet didn’t belong to you anymore.
The morning’s chill seeps into your bones and you grip your collar through the scarf wrapped around your neck. The forest looms over you, inviting you to explore its depths, and the sound of the wind rushing through the trees urges you to come closer, like a siren’s song.
You wonder if Eden’s still searching for you or if he cares at all. He could have already found a replacement for you, people disappearing in the forest is hardly anything unusual after all. Maybe they could give him the companionship that he so desperately wants, maybe they could learn to love him.
And then, he would forget about you.
That would be the perfect outcome, wouldn’t it?
And yet, you don’t want that. Every time your hand aches you’ll remember the fire of his rage, every shadow around the corner will be him, the scar on your shoulder won’t fade away, and neither will the memories. Everyone you’ll ever meet will know something, someone, left his mark all over you, that you belonged to him.
How could someone do that to you —take your life away and scar you so thoroughly—, without you having any impact in return? You want Eden to suffer, to think about you as he lays awake and lonely during the night. You want him to hunt you down.
A wave of horror crashes over you. That’s not right, you’re happy to be free again. You don’t miss him, it’s just your treacherous mind making you believe that you do.
The call of the trees seems louder now and it fills you with anxiety, because some twisted part of you is about to surrender to it. You force yourself to walk in the other direction, trying to keep your breathing under control, but you’re only capable of taking three steps until you start running as if your life depends on it. You don’t stop until you’re back at Doren’s apartment with your back pressed against the door.
It feels like you’ve already lost.
As you approach the convenience store, you try to convince yourself that you still have time, that you aren’t desperate enough to ask for work here. But you know the truth. Your time is running out. It’s been four days already and you still don’t have any money.
Working here won’t make you that much anyway, but you can’t bear the thought of walking into strangers’ houses to ask for work. The constant, irrational fear that you’ll never be able to get out hangs over you like a ghost. Maybe you’ll be able to work in a public space like this, even if being around people unnerves you.
And there’s a lot of them in the store.
You can see some boys at the back, snickering among themselves. An obnoxious pop song is playing in the background, but you can still hear a couple fighting in the aisle next to you, their voices getting increasingly louder. A kid is crying near the checkout while his mother tries to calm him down without success. And the cashier looks tired as he endures the angry rant of a customer. There must be more people inside the building, but those are the only ones that you can identify with a quick search.
Your hands tremble, and you can feel your heart pounding inside your chest, threatening to burst at any moment. The sudden desire to run away invades your mind, but you can’t give up now. Keeping your breathing under control, you make your way deeper into the store.
You’re fine. You’re safe. Nothing will hurt you. The only thing you have to do is go near the checkout, wait for the rude customer to leave, and ask if they’re hiring. You need to do this, to be capable of enduring it if you have any hope of working at the store.
Yet, with each step you take, it feels like the walls are closing on you. It’s been so long since you’ve been around this many people, you can’t stop yourself from being tense. You’ve gone out for walks, but only when the streets are nearly empty. This feels completely different.
You’re nearly there when the angry customer shoves past you, making you flinch so hard that you stumble into a shelf full of cans. It’s not a big deal, really, but as you watch some of the cans fall to the floor, something snaps inside you.
The sounds of people talking, the music of the store, the insufferable honk of the cars outside. It’s just too much. Your eyes water and when the cashier puts a hand on your shaking shoulder, telling you a concerned “Are you okay?” that you can barely hear, the panic you’ve tried so hard to suppress hits you like a truck.
You run out of the store, ducking into the nearest alleyway and collapsing against bags full of trash. Tears run down your cheeks, and you try to focus on breathing again.
Breath in. Breath out.
Your vision is blurry with tears, but you stare at the wall in front of you anyway. The paint is peeling off in some parts, revealing a dirty white that’s more yellow than anything else.
In. Out.
You can see it clearer now, enough to perceive the cracks on the cement. There are seven lines in total. You hug yourself, trying to stop shaking.
Again. In. Out. In. Out.
You follow them until they disappear into the humid ground, where green mold grows between more trash bags.
One more time.
The panic recedes. It leaves you shaken, but in control of your body again.
Trash surrounds you, and you can smell something foul coming from the bag at your side. Instinctively, you raise your hand to cover your nose, but stop when you realize that it’s wet with the rancid liquid coming from the container behind you. It’s only with a great effort that you manage to contain yourself from puking, but not from crying again.
Leaving Eden was the choice that started it all, and look where it brought you. Vulnerable, exposed. You wanted to be in control again, but being your own person also means protecting yourself and you aren’t sure if you can do that anymore. Feeling battered, you close your eyes to avoid the sight of what your decisions really amount to.
The shameful thought of running back to Eden forms inside your head, but this time you don’t fight it.
You're nothing without him.
It was nice while it lasted, this false sense of security that Doren tried to give you, but there isn’t a place for you here anymore, not with him nor at the Orphanage. You’ve forgotten how to live among people that hide their fangs behind polite smiles, and their brutality under suit and ties.
You fold the scarf Doren gave you and leave it on the coffee table, before placing over it a note where you tell him that you’re grateful for all his help, but it’s time for you to go home. If you cried a little while writing it, no one has to know.
You walk outside the building and enjoy the sunlight on your skin. Guilt should be eating you alive, but you’ve come to terms with your reality. There’s nothing for you in this town, and really, there never was. But deep in the forest where the trees are tall and dark, you have a purpose, a place to belong.
Someone who cares.
You walk until the buildings become scarce, making space for the trees that grow near the street. Feeling a bit emotional, you glance back and take in the sight of the nearby houses. The knowledge that you probably won’t come back again fills you with a bittersweet feeling, but you’re resolved to continue.
The forest becomes thicker as you walk, and the dense canopy prevents much light from reaching the ground. You don’t know where are you going exactly, but if you managed to escape from his cabin, then you should be able to find it, right?
You wonder what you’ll tell Eden when you see him as branches break under your feet. You aren’t naive enough to believe that he’ll be pleased to see you at first. You were a bad dog, and bad dogs get punished like the burn on your hand reminds you. The memory of his anger makes you a bit nervous, but you’ll accept whatever discipline he deems fit if that means he’ll forgive you.
A heavy weight falls on your shoulders, and that’s enough to make your heart beat faster than it has in ages. You would recognize the pressure of his gaze anywhere, at some point, it was all you knew. And it’s so funny how it used to crush you under its weight because now it makes you feel alive.
You can feel Eden stalking closer without making a sound. The threat of violence hangs on the air, but you still find yourself eager to have him near you. His arms snake around you in a quick movement, using so much force that you cry out in pain when he grips your neck with a steady hand and holds you against his body.
“I knew I would catch you again,” he nearly spits the words, “unfaithful dog.”
So he was looking for you. A masochistic joy sparks in your throbbing head and you try to tell him that you’ll never run again, that you’ll be good for him from now on, but only a choked gasp falls from your lips as he tightens his grip around your throat.
You manage to steal a glance at his face before your vision beings to gray around the edges. Eden shakes with anger and his features are twisted into those of a beast, but you feel so peaceful in his arms, even as your blood leaves your brain and lulls you into a painful sleep.
It feels right.
And then, everything goes dark.