In my dream, I made a promise to that female voice not to die.
Slowly, I inch my leg to the edge, clenching the rope in a death grip. The material scratches against my bloody nails.
My senses heighten and every little sound registers in my ears: the squeaking of the shaky pole, the desperate drag of my leg to the solid edge, the roaring pulse of my heartbeat.
I attempt to sit down. My leg nearly slips, and the ropes tighten around my wrists. I stop, sucking in a shaky breath.
Carefully, I stand back up with one of my legs suspended in the air.
This is it. I have to rip it off like a Band-Aid.
Inhaling deeply, I claw at the rope with my nails and push myself back.
The loud squeak of the pole registers first.
Then the loosening of the rope.
Tears fill my eyes as my entire body leans downward, toward my imminent fall.
I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.
I’m so sorry.
A brute force pulls me back by the rope. My body jerks to the edge and the bindings tighten around my wrists due to the power.
I topple over and fall into a solid embrace.
Cold, but also warm.
Hard, but also safe.
My heart, which was ready to die a second ago, resurrects back to life with a shocking force.
I gasp for air as if I haven’t been breathing for days or months.
The need to cry hits me like a hurricane. I’m caught in the eye of the storm, begging for some sort of release.
Blinking away the tears, I stare up at my savior, the one whose arms surround me like a cage.
He has the most beautiful eyes, my savior. Green like a dark forest, but also like a tropical sea during a storm.
He’s a dream and a nightmare, my savior, like darkness and light.
He’s Asher.
She looks her best when she’s hanging by a rope. Bound and exposed.
Stripped bare.
I admire my handiwork: the knot around her wrists, the duct tape on her mouth.
My dick becomes hard thinking about fucking her in that position.
Will she cry? Will she beg?
My dick has to wait, though.
Reina Ellis’ nightmare is far from over.