Page 11 of Freak
“I never should’ve done what I did… I shouldn’t have cared what they thought, or what my father wanted, or the acceptance I craved. I missed the fucking mark, and goddamn it, it kills me that I?—”
“Answer me!” Summer shouted, stilling the air with her command, pinning the hairs on my neck into fine needles. Everything about her changed; her hair, her teeth, her posture, and poise. But one thing that hadn’t, and that I cherished more than anything, was her same unbreakable, wide, green eyes.
No, not green.
Green was too simple to say, mundane like some forgettable crayon or some simple blade of glass. What she had, and what they were, was more than that. They were vast and dark, mossy as a forest—an entire one at that—terrifying and beautiful just the same, the perfect viridian portrait to a girl that I loved since junior high. And fuck if I couldn’t just say that out loud, knowing that it would either make those same precious eyes go just as big. But if they narrowed, or even shut, I’d lose all hope of seeing what I loved so much.
“It reminds me of you…” I confessed, refraining from shouting back. “That with all my expertise and skill, the one heart I wish I could fix is out of fucking reach.”
Summer glared in my direction, her top lip twitching from some unseen pulse that I imagined boiled in her veins. She stepped away, pulling the closet door open, revealing a black void of shadows and darkness inside.
“And what? You want me to forgive you?” she asked, desperate for some laughable response.
“I want whatever it is that will make you happy,” I settled.
Summer made her way back to the bag, slowly unzipping its top. She spoke into it, giving me a demand.
“I want you to remove your jacket.”
I took a small breath, curious as to what she rummaged for, as I carefully rolled my shoulders free from my coat. I tossed it on the table by her side, as she peered back up in my direction.
“Do you trust me?” she asked, knitting her brows.
“I do.”
“Then step into the closet.”
My heart began to pound. I did as I was told, willing to accept whatever it was to come my way. Stab me? Shoot me? What the fuck did I care anymore? Summer’s eyes dared me to comply, and the intoxicating grin that formed on her perfect lips churned my stomach. One look at her natural, pouty lips made me feel like I was falling, causing my muscles to react and tighten in my shirt as I stepped into the dark.
“Ok.”
“No,” she corrected. “Not, ok. When you fucking answer me, you call me Ms. Evans moving forward.”
Ms. Evans?
It echoed in my head like a canyon and made its way down past my chest and into my slacks. Why did I love the sound of it, and why was it so immediate?
The sound of a chain rattled from her bag; its distinct clink made my jaw tighten.
Whatever this was, whatever she planned, made me shiver in the most perfect fucking way.
“Nod if you understand me.”
My brooding expression tensed as I followed her order.
Her heels clicked again as she made her way back from the bag, twisting a small gold chain in her hand—a yankable fucking leash with matching leather cuffs.
“Give me your wrists,” she snipped, prompting me to lift my forearms, exposing the veined underbelly of what she desired. “Now let’s try that again. Do you trust me?” she asked, slipping a cuff over my wrist.
“Yes… Ms. Evans,” I grunted, triggered by the hard tug she gave its leather strap.
She made it so tight, clasping the metal buckle into the furthest position my broad muscles would allow. She worked on the other, before tossing the gold chain around a wooden bar above our heads, a place specifically meant for hangers.
“Good. I want you to trust me,” she hummed, pulling the chain down the other end, catching me off guard with how strong her command was. My hands sprang above my head, catching my breath with a shallow grunt that fell out from my mouth.
Why the fuck did I feel like an animal? Some untamable monster that needed some order, some control from a master.
“I trusted you, too… but,” she mused, bending over, tying the chain to a bolt in the ground, leaving no room for my arms to move from where I stood. I tested its mobility, the wings of my back perked into a perfect triangle, my chest bursting from my tightly fitted, white shirt. I couldn’t even budge an inch.
