After begging Saint Benedict for help and still feeling like I’ll combust at any second, my mark and pussy both throbbing in sync with each other, I recite the Benedict prayer.
Frustration and despair begin to set in when I reach the end of that prayer and still feel no relief.
I’m empty… so hollow and empty.
And divine words are not filling me.
Stomach clenching hard at the thought of what could fill me, I start to cry. My tears mixing with the water streaming down my face.
Either God has abandoned me or I’ve asked Him for too much help. Either way, I’m screwed because there’s no way I can live the rest of my life like this.
No freaking way.
Not without going crazy.
I want to be touched so bad…
I want to feel his hands upon my body.
His lips against my lips.
I want to know if his name is really Asher.
So I can moan it in his mouth.
Memories of my dreams begin to fog up my head.
The way he pushed his body into my body. The speed and brute strength behind his hips.
The way he bit my neck.
Fingers slipping down the tile, I begin to sink down to my knees.
“Please….” I groan.
To myself.
To the heavens.
To him.
And I swear I feel something answer back.
It’s faint… so very faint.
But it sounds like my name.
Chloe.
Soft warmth fills me at once, and it’s not the same warmth of the lust pumping through my blood.
It’s the warmth of… affection.
At least that’s what I think it is. It’s the only word my frazzled brain can up with to describe the strange sensation.
I let the warmth wrap around me, not like a blanket but a cloud. A fluffy cloud that will protect me.
The throbbing between my legs begins to ease, not completely gone, but muffled by the static fuzziness.
The air around me also seems to thin, and I find it easier to breathe.
Sucking in big mouthfuls of air, my head begins to clear.
The need to go to him is still there, but it’s not quite as extreme.
I don’t feel like I’ll die from lust if I don’t find him and throw myself at him at this very minute.
Which is good… almost too good.
What happened? Where did this… protection come from?
Did God take pity on me and decide to answer my prayers?
As soon as that thought enters my head, the water pulsing out of the showerhead turns ice cold.
Shrieking, I scramble forward, slipping precariously on the slick tub, and quickly turn the water off.
The damage is done though.
Shivering from the cold, the warm fuzziness that was floating around me is gone.
But so is the lust.
The fires of my need have been extinguished.
I guess all I needed was a cold shower.
Feeling like I’m going fucking crazy, I wrap my arms around myself. Rocking back and forth, I wait for the unwanted lust to come back. To attack me again.
When it doesn’t, when only the ache of emptiness pulses weakly behind my ribs, I yank the shower curtain open and stumble out of the bathtub.
Somehow I manage to grab a towel without tearing the rod from the wall and wrap it around myself. Grabbing another towel, I throw it over my head and bend down to pick up my phone.
Touching the screen, I try to bring up the time, but it remains blank.
I guess it died sometime last night.
Sighing, I turn off the sink faucet and walk into my bedroom. After plugging my phone into the charger, I get dressed.
It’s tempting to wear my own clothes for once, but I decide against it. He may know where I am and it might all be pointless now, but who knows what will happen today. There’s still hope inside me that I can get away.
There’s still hope that Isaac or Father McCall will help me.
Choosing quickly between the two inappropriate shirts Charity left me yesterday, I settle on I Don’t Spit, I Gargle and pull it over my head. After stepping into some panties and leggings, I walk over to my nightstand and check on my phone.
The screen is lit up now with a slight charge and the time is displayed in big white Arabic numerals.
5:15
Thinking that must be a mistake, that it can’t possibly be right, I pick my phone up and quickly shut it off and on again.
It must be stuck on the time it died at or something…
Shifting from foot to foot in impatience, I stare hard at my phone screen, waiting for it to light up with light.
When it does, I want to scream.
5:16
No.
No, no, no.
I didn’t sleep all day. It’s still morning. The sun is still up…
Running to my window, I pull open the curtains and stare out in horror.
The sun isn’t rising in the horizon, floating above all the buildings. It’s setting, slowly but surely sinking below them.
Oh God, I’ve wasted so much time…