Won't Let You Go | Read Free Preview

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Chapter 1

It was so dark when I finally made it out of the sewage pipes. Being stuck underground with no fresh air, no food or clean water was beginning to unnerve me. I could not begin to imagine where I would run to, but run, I had to. It had been a full week since my escape and I knew that they were looking for me. Each step I took felt like a daring plunge into the abyss, as the inky blackness swallowed any trace of familiarity. The air was heavy with a sense of foreboding sending shivers down my spine, pressing against my dirty damp clothes. Trying to remember to stay positive, brushing off the question of how I got here was more mentally challenging than I had anticipated. Sure, my life was not the template of perfection, but this… This is absurd. The moon was obscured by thick clouds and offered no guiding light and every sound the night made, sparked more fear in my heart, "Crack, crack”. My sweat beads began to glisten. Another cracking sound, even closer than the previous ones, pierced the silence. I stood behind a tree hoping that my heart’s excessive pounding could not be heard. The flapping wings of a bird echoed in the dead of the night and then came the calm. More cracking sounds started again, moving closer in my direction with fear coursing through my veins. Trying not to breathe my eyes were wide open searching for the shadow, the darkness would not allow me to see anything, so I had to rely on my senses to get by, it slowly began to crush my spirit. Small footsteps made their way towards me with more pronounced cracking sounds. At this point whatever beats were left in my heart were from sheer luck. I voluntarily closed my eyes to spare myself the sight of danger, a combination of the chilly night air and the mounting anxiety clung to me like a second skin, questioning me on my choice of action to run away. Right then, a pair of light eyes were staring at me as I slowly opened my eyes to see if I could spot anything in front of me. I jumped out in absolute terror. It took me a while to realise that I had scared an animal away, that was when relief clouded me like a stormy day bringing with it a new sense of happiness. It was only an animal my mind kept reminding me. Staying there was not an option, I had to keep moving, making my way slowly in the dark, the situation urging me to run, but reality reminded me that I could not see anything, and more importantly, I had no idea where I was. Perhaps it was the fear for somehow it seemed like it was growing even darker around me and walking was getting harder and harder with every step. At this specific moment, I found appreciation for how brave blind people were. Never knowing what their surroundings look like, yet it did not deter them from living. The thought of Paul finding me, made my stomach churn along with unfarmable fear dancing in my cheeks, I found the will to go on, igniting a fire within me to defy the chains of hopelessness he had once bound me with. I took in a deep breath and exhaled like an amateur. “OK Regina,” I said to myself. “Pretend you are blind. You have come this far; you can do this.” Making self-motivation my friend, I knew we were going to make it out alive because we only had each other to rely on. The self-motivation helped me, for by the end of the night when the light came out, I was a considerable distance away from the maintenance station. All I could do now was walk, look around and walk some more until I stumbled upon a pond tucked away by the willow trees. Almost immediately I wanted to head over for something to drink. I crouched as my eyes darted around to see if there were any human beings. My hands trembled as I dipped my fingers into the cool water. I washed my hands trying to remove the dirt stains first so that I could have a drink, yet I could not find the will to take in the water. The pungent scent of algae and earth wafted up, assaulting my nostrils, and adding another layer of hesitation to my internal struggle. I desperately needed the nourishment, but the nagging thought of germs gripped my thought line, could I afford to get sick in the middle of nowhere? Sitting by the bank while contemplating, I scooped up some water again, my parched throat crying out for relief. All I needed was just one sip to help my body along, but the nagging thought of germs gnawed in my mind, still urging caution. I closed my eyes and raised the now half-empty cupped hand of water to my mouth. I stuck my tongue out for a taste and quite frankly watching paint dry was a faster process compared to my attempt. The filthiness of the water was too apparent and the risk too great to ignore. My tongue hovered over the water and then touched my damp palm, immediately the saliva in my mouth came rushing out, sending shock waves through my body about the possibility of drinking water. But I just couldn’t drink it, there was no more use in trying, no matter how thirsty I was. Frustration and disappointment flooded my senses as I closed my eyes, letting the remaining droplets slip through my fingers and back into the pond in one solid movement. It was early morning and I was by the water, I might as well wash to rid myself of the awful sewage smell. Even if I wasn’t going to be one hundred percent clean at least I would not smell as bad. The late morning sun was what warmed me from the chilly bath, I could feel the warmth penetrate my soul. The funny thing is that I started humming, labouring to wash my clothes with no detergent brought me a sense of joy. However, there was nothing joyous about my situation other than the fact that I had finally managed to run away from Paul. It was the joy of freedom. I lay my clothes on a rock that received direct sunlight, then walked around the surroundings in my underwear. It was liberating, to think back then how shy of my body I used to be. The amount of weight I had lost over the past months made me think of a floral dress I owned that I stopped wearing because of the weight gain. A grin joined my face, and my facial muscles tore away at my skin. I always loved that dress, and now the possibility of wearing it again gave me one more thing to look forward to. In fact, when I am going to make a real effort to doll myself up and wear my nicest heels. Eat a great schnitzel and drink my favourite wine. Yes, I can! I am free and there is no more Paul. I channelled my resentment into a relentless pursuit of freedom. In recent times, my life revolved around me guessing the time, I placed the time for around midday when the sun was at its hottest and my strength subsequently almost depleted. I had berries for lunch and they tasted really good even though they had absolutely no substance to assist me in regaining my energy it was a happy-free meal. The berries looked harmless enough for me to consume the unknown without the thought of poisoning myself. The determination to make it back home started flooding my mind again as I lay next to my clothes taking in the sun. I imagined that I was lying on a beach, tanning enjoying my life again. When my clothes felt dry, I got dressed, thirst still gnawed at me, but I pushed it aside to focus on the urgency of my journey to somewhere, anywhere the road would lead me. Anywhere where I could get help. I walked against the sun, feeling my body dehydrate even more with every second that passed, with every step I took. My head was beginning to feel dizzy and when I touched my lips, they were chapped beyond any level I had known. I searched in my mind for a happier time, my heart yearning for the warmth of companionship from someone I could trust. Then I remembered my favourite matt lipstick that I swore by, a beauty secret that never let me down. The mere thought of it offered a glimmer of solace in the desolate landscape. Just before dark, I stumbled upon a petrol station on the other side of the road. I waited for it to get dark before crossing over. It seemed like a safe enough place to spend the night and likely to have clean water. As soon as the darkness clouded the sky, I walked over to the side trying not to be seen, I had already spotted the tap next to the shed. Time wasting was not on the menu. The water was crisp, clean, and cool. It tasted so good, and I drank it like a fish. I drank so much that I eluded myself into thinking that I was full, and I wouldn’t need to worry about food. Unfortunately, the smell of pie emanating coming from inside called my bloating a bluff. No amount of water could replace the need for food. I slipped into the unlocked shed, making as little noise as possible. The air was heavy with the smell of dust, and in the corner was a desk with an old leather chair. The rest of the space was taken up by boxes and some miscellaneous items. Next to the window was a rusty navy-blue locker with large patches of chipped paint, I found some batting material inside and made it my blanket for the night.

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Chapter 2

I was pleasantly surprised by my restful sleep last night. The previous week had been rather rough with very little sleep to keep me strong. Physically drained and mentally consumed by the desire to return home. I struggled to move. I was still in a daze, with my blurred vision casually looked around stretching and yawning attempting to strategize my next steps. Only to have my heart sink into a deep depression when my vision darted to the locker. I blinked repeatedly and rubbed my eyes to confirm the reality before me. Maybe it’s my imagination playing tricks on me. Why was it, not my imagination? Meanwhile, Paul was standing there quietly observing me trying to regain my composure. Time seemed to slow down, and a charged silence closed us in. In that fleeting moment, his gaze held mine, and I felt an unspoken connection. We had a stare-down. His intense eyes seemed to linger on me, as if searching for something deeper, stirring a mix of emotions within me. His face was visibly angry, every inch of his body giving off a warning, yet his eyes portrayed a different emotion, one that I had never seen before in him. I was so scared, but outwardly I was determined to pretend like I knew no fear. “Are you done?” his cold voice carried a trace of vulnerability, the uncertainty in my mind was clear as daylight. The question had so many meanings that I was not sure which one he was referring to, to give him any sort of an answer. If only his tone were not laced with a mixture of frustration and concern, I might have been able to think of something. Tears welled up rapidly in my eyes, their warmth creeping up my nose as they continued to threaten to run down. How on earth did he find me? I had been very careful to cover my tracks, I know I was not seen when I left. I remember thinking that this was bad, Paul's lack of forgiveness was notorious; any act of defiance meant certain death simple as that. Since he did not kill me in my sleep, it could only mean that he meant to punish me. But as I looked into his eyes, I caught a glimpse of sadness hidden beneath the anger. It was as if my attempt to escape had struck a chord deep within him. The weight of his unspoken sorrow hung in the air, subtly revealing a side of Paul that I had never witnessed before. Not a word came out of my mouth as the fear in me grew like an erupting volcano. Bringing with it an intense heatwave across my face and chest. My face began to betray me, for no matter how much I tried to stay poised, I could not stop the growing anxiety that I felt. It was beyond overwhelming, nothing that I had ever experienced and this man had made me experience a lot of emotions before I left. The urge to scream consumed me, but I couldn't shake the fear that it might provoke him and lead to my untimely death, ending my suffering once and for all. My redden eyes watched him walk closer to me. If ever there was a time that I had been brave in my life, this moment was not it. In my fear, I was ready to apologize and beg for Paul’s forgiveness. <i>Slap!</i> That was the last thing I remembered him doing before the Milky Way visited my vision. When I came to, I was lying on a bed with Paul beside me. He was shirtless, his arms were behind his head and his concentration was centred on the Chandelier across the room. His profile has not changed, still a very handsome man, with all the features in the right places just like a masterpiece craft. I quietly watched in stillness dreading what was going to happen. Let us just remember one vital point and that is I have no idea where I am and how I got to his bed. For my mental health, I decided to let it go. After staring at him for some time, his eyes started to get very attractive to me. For an unknown reason I was still trying to understand, my subconscious mind wanted to reach out and touch him. I kept darting my eyes between his ear and neck, not wanting to fall for those deceitful eyes that showed no soul. From where I was lying, it was a pretty sight, yet it was only a confession I could make to myself. “Are you hungry?” he asked in a deep voice, with no ruthlessness detected. There was a certain thought that he had been side-eying me the whole time because I knew that he had not turned to look at me. I had been staring at him the whole time. The sound of his voice made me nervous, poking at my anxiety and inviting my sweat beads back to my forehead. I mumbled yes under my breath then Paul stood up without so much as a second thought. I continued to watch him in amazement as he got out of bed with nothing but his briefs on. He was a sexy man in all honesty, just not for me, maybe another who could stand the sight of him, but not me. He put the track pants on and then turned to me, still lying on the bed, I made no effort to look away. Those ever-so-solid abs were on display when he stretched his arms to put on the vest. He promptly left after that. As soon as he disappeared a surge of energy bolted in me and I used my arm to support my weight. I looked around the room, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary, this beautiful room was clean and bright, covered in neutral colours and great furnishings. I searched myself to check for foul play, but not a single thing. I felt my lower region, perhaps he had had his way with me and to my surprise, nothing seemed to have been touched. No soreness, no signs of stickiness or injury, thank goodness. My skin was well moisturized, inducing me to touch myself in awe. I lay back down and stared at the ceiling not knowing what to think. To my calculations I should be dead, it is the promise he made me if I ever chose to run away. The flood of questions in my mind became overwhelming, leaving me without a sense of direction. It was a jumble of confusion that demanded answers and I knew only Paul could provide them. Then Paul came back with a bowl in his hand, it was cinnamon-flavoured oatmeal. There was a lump of sugar in the middle of the middle that was trying to dissolve in the surrounding milk that teased it the way the ocean water would the beach. He silently sat on the bed and waited for me to sit up before he handed me the bowl. I swallowed some saliva to nourish my dry throat. “Thank you,” I mumbled. My eyes were glued to the warm heavy bowl and then Paul moved closer to me and took the bowl away. My heart anticipated his wrath, I was certain that he would think that I was ungrateful. With one look and one silent motion, I further sealed my fate, intensifying the already stifling situation as if the intensity of the situation was not serious enough. He turned to the food and with great care he started mixing the sugar into the oatmeal. Silently observing him, my eyes did not wane and then he tasted the food. Perhaps he thought that I assumed it was poisoned. He began to feed me and every time the spoon was raised, I obediently opened my mouth. He went as far as to use his thumb to wipe my lips whenever there was a little residue. In that intimate act, our eyes locked and a charged silence hung between us. I couldn't help but notice the way his gaze lingered on my lips, a subtle yet undeniable hint of desire. It was as if in that moment, our connection went beyond fear and punishment, yet my fear was very real. With each passing brush, I found myself unravelling the layers of Paul's enigmatic personality. Have I died and gone to an alternative universe that also had a Paul look-a-like? “Rest. The doctor says you are weak,” his voice prompted me back to reality. He watched me lay like a paper doll before he covered me with the duvet. There was a fleeting touch that sent shivers down my spine. Our proximity seemed to hold an unspoken desire, one that was once openly admitted by Paul and maybe myself. My hands tightly gripped the duvet as I was still in my bra and panty at this time which had been changed, keenly aware that he knew my nakedness. Surely there was no need to parade it, reminding him of my curves or the size of my breasts. He didn’t deserve them. When I was finally comfortable, he covered my back, then stayed in that leaning position over me, his eyes searching my face for answers. It was as if he cared more than he wanted to admit and his actions stirred a familiar warmth within me. I could feel faint wafts of his breath on my cheek, in all this he did not seem angry. Sitting up to station himself on the edge of the bed with his back towards me, he placed the bowl down on the nightstand. The smell of his cigarette ran up my nose like a naughty child’s screaming. I had to use the duvet to cover my nose, making sure that my eyes still kept a close watch on Paul. He turned around with a giant plume of smoke rushing out of his nostrils. “You should sleep, you need it,” he remarked, taking another drag of the cigarette. “Why are you being so calm?” the nonplus confidence in me bellowing the words. Paul didn’t answer, he only glared at me with a warning look, turned around and continued smoking. After a while, he left.

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Chapter 3

It did not take long for me to drift off into a deep sleep. The bed was comfortable and softer than I had anticipated. Paul’s side of the bed especially lured me in; it carried his scent that housed the strong cologne, lingering most on his pillow. I thought I was sleeping peacefully, but when I started having a nightmare, my brain urged me to wake up. The sleep paralysis would not allow me; I had to see the nightmare through. In the nightmare, I saw myself drowning in the depths of the ocean, where no light ever ventured, and no fish bothered to swim. Desperate strokes propelled me upward, but the relentless pull of the abyss dragged me down. It was a dance of tranquillity, my body against the water, a sublime connection that transcended in between the open water molecules, with very little regard for my emotional turmoil. The more I struggled the faster I sank. Panic consumed me as the pressure mounted and hope waned, a sense of impending doom gripping my entire being. The ocean was both calm and violent, scornfully magnifying the power of the water. The intense and sharp composition of the silence cast enchanting shadows in my closed eyes and echoed with the tales of loss harmoniously towing me away from consciousness. Right there I felt as though my heart was about to stop. It was a downward spiral, pulling me towards my end until the phantom sensation of a hand gripping my hand sent me into shock. A surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins as I snapped awake, my body trembling and heart racing. My body jolted on the bed with my eyes wide open dancing to the electronic tune of my beating heart. As I patted my body to confirm I was still alive then held onto my hand. It later dawned on me that I was now completely on Paul’s side of the bed, I was certain that it was the lingering scent of his cologne that must have triggered my nightmare. Words cannot fully express the relief I felt that it was only a dream, such a terrible way to die, drowning and knowing that you were. Where are the sharks when you need them? At least then your heart stops quickly from the terror and pain. Even Paul’s idea of mistreatment seemed better than dying like that. Instead of feeling refreshed from the rest, I found myself feeling more exhausted. My body could no longer take the emotional outbursts, living in constant fear - a life I never chose. But as long as I was alive, I yearned for my freedom, that was my reality. I closed my eyes hoping to catch the wave of good sleep, but it eluded me like a criminal running from the law. Maybe if I fell asleep again and slipped into another bad dream my heart would stop from the trauma, but the blasted organ was tenacious seeking a better challenge than my scared emotions. Being on Paul’s side of the bed was surprisingly more comfortable compared to when I lay on my side. I stayed awake and then his side brought sleep like a bee to a flower. The sleep that came trapped me in a state of mindlessness, I no longer had control. Somewhere within the deep hollow of sleep, I felt a warm sensation cover my face. My eyes immediately opened wide to stare Paul in the face. “Did I wake you?” he whispered, rubbing my arm. “You have been sleeping all day, you need to eat something to regain your strength quickly.” From an outsider’s point of view, this may have appeared as a caring gesture, showing compassion that he never knew to feel. He was embodying a gentle soul that solely focused himself on my well-being. I plucked up the courage to stare back at him, our eyes conversing with words I did not understand. For as long as we stared at each other I had more questions than answers. Clearly, he was not afraid of me because the way he looked back at me was more intense than what I put out. It was as if he was amused and when I subconsciously blinked, I immediately rolled my eyes to mask my defeat. He pulled my nose and lit a cigarette, the way he blew out the smoke was both dangerous and alluring. The movement of his muscles along his jawline and neck when he dragged the cigarette deserved an award for perfection. The professionalism in that task alone reminded me of all his other well-performed tasks. He made it look so effortless to smoke an entire cigarette in a couple of drags. If I had been counting, I could say five maybe, but I wasn’t counting. I wondered what was going through his mind instead. It must have taken a great amount of effort for him to find me and then go through all the trouble of bringing me here, rather than returning to the basement. He even arranged for medical attention and placed me in his bed to monitor my progress. Paul had a new tattoo of a honeycomb dripping with blood that was just above his collarbone. The tattoo exhibited visible redness, indicating that it had not yet healed. The painted blood was dripping onto a waterlily, this was a very personal ideology considering his lack of empathy and inability to understand others' emotions. Why would he adorn his skin with something as innocent as a waterlily? “Why am I here?” courage visited me again. “You are here because I want you here.” I sat up feeling that I was about to lose my temper. “Why?” my tone high laced with annoyance. Paul grabbed my neck and squeezed it solidly, blocking my carotid artery. My body reacted quickly as I gasped for air. He pulled me towards his face, eyeing me with a frown but remaining silent. He could notice my face turning pale, so he slightly relaxed his hand to allow me to breathe. I put on a brave front, though my chest heaved with each breath. A dangerous glint flashed over his right eye in the middle of our intense rubberneck. “I want you to be healthy and strong again so that I can punish you. I want to be certain that you will regain consciousness for me to do it again.”

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