The Fox and The Wolf

Chapter Fourteen

It was hazy at first, although soon enough I could make out whose hand were gently stroking my hair.

I mean, it was none other than my kidnapper, of course. He's probably the only one who knows about my whereabouts.

The room was dark. It was already night, perhaps. Or he could just turn off the lights, I can't tell. I glanced and saw a muscled figure sitting on the head of the bed. I couldn't see what expression Rick made, and I don't think I want to see it, either.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the rhythmic sound of an exhale and inhale of Raphael instead of this man's existence. I could hear in his corner of the room, Raphael was already asleep. His breathing was calm.

It was quiet.

The air was cold even under these blankets, and the sounds of construction were nothing more either. Nor the sounds of my screaming thumping through my eardrums. It was peaceful.

Rick had probably noticed I had woken up, but he didn't say anything to it.

Everything was peaceful, yet I wasn't.

Sweat beads were forming in my temples. The wounds in my thighs seemed to burn and beat. As if it was alive.

Did I faint?

I let out a sigh, unwillingly trembling in the process. I never thought a whipping injury would hurt this much.

"You're up?" He spoke.

I jolted in my place, scared the heck out of myself from his voice. It was closer than I had expected.

My heart was thumping so loudly that I thought I had a heart attack. Can this guy be a little less disturbing?

"Sorry, did I startle you?" His voice softened.

Rick's finger slowly caresses my head in a soothing way as he talks.

If only he had not been the one who gave me the pain, I would've appreciated such gestures much more.

Regardless, of whether he caused the pain or not, I couldn't deny his hand was calming me down. The steady flow of his finger playing with my locks was soothing. I could feel my throat opening up, letting the freezing night air into my lungs.

"You almost killed me." I blurted out without thinking.

His hand stopped at my words. I quickly covered my mouth, but it was too late. I said that out loud. He would not be happy hearing this.

"That's- no, that's not what I meant, I mean-"

"I'm sorry." He suddenly cut me off.

What?

Huh?

Did... Did I just hear him right?

"I'm sorry," he breathed, "I shouldn't have punished you that much, had I known you would've fainted because of the pain."

"What the-"

I tried to sit up, wanting to face this freaking asshole face-to-face. He dared make such a poor excuse at me?

At the sudden big movements, my thighs burn in pain. Involuntarily, I let out a screech, not bothering whether it was banshee-like or not.

An arm tried to wrap around me. Yet, I instinctively slapped them away.

"Don't touch me, you fu-" I bit my lips to stop the curse out of my mouth.

In an instant, the memory of where Rick had whipped my legs flashes in my head. Cold sweat was now forming, and I could feel myself shivering to the bone.

Fuck. Fuck.

The hell?
Am... am I scared of him?

Of... of course not. That's not possible. He's just an obsessed psycho kidnapper. There's nothing to be afraid of.

I tried to remind myself that, but I knew I was doing a pretty poor job at convincing myself with those words.

My heart shook in fear of getting punished again. My fingers, my arms, and my body trembled while reliving the memory of being whipped.

My legs throbbed in pain, I couldn't even feel my legs any more other than that.

"Harriet..." His manly voice spoke. I could hear a hint of hurt in his words.

"Harriet, I'm sorry... You must've been shocked." He muttered.

I didn't respond to him, nor that I could afford to do that in my condition.

Rick then opened his damned mouth again.

"If only you had listened to my words." He added.

"Had you sat quietly like a good girl, I wouldn't see the need to punish you like this." He said, sincerity in his voice. As if believing he did the right thing.

This guy seriously has some screws loose.

I scoffed in my mind, but what showed on the outside was my body trembling like a mad woman, shifting her weight from one leg to the other on the edge of the cliff.

I could feel my throat closing up and my breath getting shallower. It seemed like he noticed this too.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Harriet. I'm sorry..." His voice cracked in sadness.

I didn't reply to him. It was silence only with my ragged breathing. Rick was visibly uncomfortable in his place. He was shifting, his arms hanging in the air in an effort to do something.

Slowly, as he tried not to touch my wounds, his body hugged me from behind as I hunched myself into a ball. I could feel Rick's body warmth on my back. He was holding me gently as if I were fragile.

Maybe because I am.

"It's okay... It's okay..." He stroked my arm gently, trying his best to not touch my hurting thighs.

"You can cry, Harriet. It's okay, it's okay," he said softly, his fingers felt like ripples in my skin. Everything seemed to hurt, yet his touch was annoyingly comforting.

"You are allowed to cry." He said firmly. It was calm before my tears prickled down from my eyes.

With that, I choked out my tears, breaking into cries. I was sobbing, wailing, mumbling incoherent words at no one in this dark room. His last words seemed to shatter the left of my battered pride.

I cried so hard. It didn't matter that I was sobbing, choking, or even having a hard time breathing.

I didn't feel ashamed or embarrassed.
All I could feel was the sound of myself shattering. It was loud. Deafening. And despite that, I could still make out his voice.

"It's okay, Harriet. It will be fine. Everything will be fine."

He kept repeating that sentence again and again, relentlessly through the night, in his soothing voice.

Soon enough, all I was left to think about were the warmth of his body pressed against my back, the soothing caresses of his fingers in my arm, and his gentle voice.

There was no place for sadness and pain anymore.

Not if I don't do anything he didn't like anymore.