Trapped in his End Game (Series)

He takes another step forward and I automatically step back. Vince’s face broods with malcontent, and he suddenly lunges, grabbing my arm so that I’m against his body.

“I need to go out, and when I come back you better fucking be here.”

Under my confusion and fear I feel searing hot anger. “You do not own me, Vincent.”

“Yes, I do,” he says in a black voice.

His lips crash over mine and suddenly my back slams against the wall. It’s messy and violent. I’m furious, trying to shove him away but he pins me against the wall with his weight, holding my arms above my head as he lays stunning kiss after kiss on his mouth, and I soften against my will. His face millimeters from mine, he smiles slightly and I hate myself for the feelings it gives me.

This is toxic.

Then I’m clinging to his neck, as tears burst from my throat. He holds me and rubs my back as every aching sob shakes from my chest. All those times I cried myself to sleep whenever I had nightmares are gone, because he’s there to hold me.

“Please.”

I don’t know what I’m begging him for. I want him to leave. I want him to stay. I hate him. I love him.

His fingers dig into my head, but he lets me go, the darkness almost gone from his face. He almost looks like a little boy.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Vince’s arms fall from me and he strides back to the door to head out and do God knows what.

“What are you going to do?”

He pauses mid-step. “Find the guy and kill him.”

Jesus.

Another horrible thrill through my heart almost makes me pass out. “Don’t say that!”

“You asked.”

I look at him angrily, wondering why he’s pretending to be obtuse. “I’m not supposed to know.”

He gives me a sad smile. “It’s too late for all that, sweetheart.”

* * *This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

With Vincent’s suffocating presence gone, I’m able to think about things. I think about how I got myself into this monumentally fucked up situation. He says I can’t leave, but the front door is right there. I could run to my dorm and tell Maria about everything, but he would drag me right back to his apartment.

My finger pauses over my phone. I can just imagine Maria’s horrified face. What the hell do I do now? On top of everything, Mom keeps texting me, begging me for more money.

Please call me so I can scream at you.

It’s not my fault. It’s hers. She forced me into a corner, to the point of desperation where I actually took money from a monster.

What was I thinking?

Now he owns me. I can’t just leave.

I pace around his apartment, ripping open cabinets and drawers, rifling through their contents. What I’m searching for eludes me; I just need something to distract me. Maybe I’m trying to find evidence that he’s a good man. That I didn’t just forsake everything in my life for a man who’s bad for me. His CD collection has lots of Jazz and Blues; the few pictures in his house are of his mother, and people I identify as Nicky, Paulie, and the rest of his crew. None of his father, interestingly enough. I’m like a sponge, soaking up all this useless information about Vincent. His underwear drawer has mostly black briefs, but nothing else of interesting. Lots of suits in his closet. There’s a huge box of condoms in his nightstand.

“Having fun?”

I slam it shut, my heart thudding loudly as I wheel around and see a bloodied Vince leaning against the doorway of the bedroom, looking tired but bemused. There’s blood all over his white sleeves and I already know whose it is.

He killed someone tonight.

There’s a grin like the Cheshire cat on his face as he steps forward.

“Don’t! Get away from me.”

The smile disappears. Whatever bloodlust he had before, he purged it tonight. My sweet, charming Vincent stands in front of me with a hurt look on his face.

“What have I ever done to hurt you? I’ve only loved and respected you, paid for your school, protected you-”

You scare me.

“If you can hurt other people that easily, you could do it to me.”

“Never.”

He says it so forcefully that I know I’ve offended him. I’m cornered against the wall as he invades my space, his eyes forbidding.

“I watched my old man slap around my mother growing up. I’d never lay a hand on you, Adriana.” A sudden smile twitches on his face. “Not unless you wanted me to.”

My face flinches when he touches my cheek. His eyes are heavy with longing. Can’t he realize I’m cringing from his touch?