Chapter Thirteen
She Says She Loves Me

If feels scary. Very, very scary.

I don't know how I got into this situation. She seemed so normal when I first met her. Ice cream and a hot bath, you can't geet any more normal than that, right? She looked sane. I just don't understand it. I've worked graveyard shifts for over eight years. I thought my craziness detector was pretty sensitive. I thought I'd seen pretty much every type of lunatic there was out there. Why didn't I recognize the imbalance in her?

I don't know. Maybe I'm a little wacko myself. After all, I'm the one who's worked at a low paying, demeaning, dangerous job all these years. Even after having guns stuck in my face twice. Some people might call me a glutton for punishment. But if that was really true, then I'd enjoy being handcuffed to the bed like this, wouldn't I? I don't like it one bit.

I need to pee, damn it.

If she doesn't get home soon I'm going to wet the bed. Again. Damn, I hated that. It was so humiliating. I'm glad I got cried out before she came home. It was bad enought to have to sit in that gradually cooling wet spot, smelling the ammonia, for an hour till she got home. Thank God she'd put a rubber pad under the sheet the day before. I'm not sure how she'd have acted if I'd soaked the mattress. But she was almost considerate, changing the sheets and apologizing for being late.

I've been fastened to this bed for over a week now. I've lost count of the exact number of days. That worries me. This is a bizarre situation, and I don't want to lose touch with reality. I don't know how much longer I can take this. I wish now that I was in closer contact with my family, no matter how annoying they can be sometimes. But it could be months before someone notices that they haven't heard from me in awhile. She told my job that I quit, so they won't come looking to see why I'm not in. And...there's no one else. Is anyone even going to look for me?

My nose itches, and I scratch it. That's one advantage. I'm not bound as closely as I was at first. She must have gotten the padded leather cuffs from the same place she got the...other things. They're lined with lamb's wool, and attatched to the headboard on either side of my body by chains about two feet long. I can't reach the opposite hand to try to undo them, but if I bend over I can scratch my nose, or feed myself. When she lets me feed myself, of course.

I couldn't understand that at first. Then I remembered reading somewhere about brainwashing techniques. One method, less violent than others, involved making the victim totally dependent on the captor. The captor was the source of all things necessary for survival. And I guess that's the situation here. If she doesn't bring me food, I go hungry. If she doesn't bring me water, I could die of dehydration. If she doesnt' allow me to go to the toilet, I soil myself. and her's is the only face I see, the only human voice I hear. She's becomming my whole world. And that's what she wants.

I knew she... liked me before she told me she loved me. But I didn't know it was that strong.

I was flattered. She's a pretty woman, she's smart, she does a difficult job that contributes to the good of others. I was happy to have her as a friend. But I didn't think about having sex with her. Not...really.

I'm kind of peculiar, I realize that. Nature never presupposed a forty year old virgin. I can't even say with one hundred per cent assurance what my sexual orientation is: straight, gay, or bi. I just like people. But I've never had enough nerve to approach anyone. And the few times I'd been approached, I didn't like them. I liked Dana, but... but...

But she didn't ask. She took. Hard.

I honestly thought I was going to die at first, when I felt that gun muzzle against my head. I'd seen her eyes in that moment before she dropped the wash cloth over my face, and they'd been wild. There was no reason left in them. Then I realized she wasn't going to kill me, but she was going to rape me.

Rape.

You know, that's the first time I've used that word to myself. I don't know why I haven't before. Before I've thought she 'did that' or 'attacted.' But it was rape, even in the legal term is something different. It hurt pretty bad. Maybe the pain only seemed more intense because of the fear and stress, but that doesn't make it any less real. I was sore for two days. I guess she was trying to be considerate later. She said she was, while she was crouched over me, using her mouth on my crotch.

She keeps apologizing for hurting me that first time, then telling me it was my own fault for not relaxing and enjoying it.

Dear God. I keep trying to forget that part, but I'm not having any luck.

I had an orgasm. I couldn't believe it was possible. There was as much pain as there was pleasure, but it was an orgasm. And I've had them several times since. She gets these moods... I've tried faking orgasm just to get her to stop, but it didn't work. I must not be a very good actress, because she can tell the difference. What the hell with a defense lawyer make of this? "Oh, you had a climax? What, more than once? And you pretended to have more? You must have been very considerate of your attackers feelings. Perhaps you were trying to incite her to greater effort?"

There's the question. If I get out of this... Stop that Free. When I get out of this, do I want to press charges? When it happened, hell yes. And maybe I will farther down the line. But right now I just want out of this situation. I really would walk away and never say a word about what's happened to anyone but God if she would just let me go.

I hear the door open, and heave a sigh of relief. The need to pee hasn't reached crisis stage, I can still keep a little dignity by not pleading.

She's smiling when she comes in, and that makes me wary. She was smiling like that when she brought home the last toy. I kicked so hard that she ended up chaining my legs to the footboard of the bed so she could use it. I'd made her angry, and I was sore again for awhile.

She's carrying one of those little, decorated bags that you can use for gifts, instead of bothering with a bag and paper. It's plain red, with white tissue paper peeking out of the top.

Dana comes over and sits on the bed beside me, leaning over to kiss me. I open my mouth when her lips touch mine. I quit trying to keep her tongue out of my mouth a long time ago. The alternatives to allowing it were just too unpleasant.

"How was your day, Precious?" She starts running her fingers through my hair. She likes that. Spends a lot of time doing it.

"Busy."

She laughs. "Me too. Fox is driving me crazy. I think he's trying to bond, or something. I kind of wish we'd have a nice alien abduction. That would keep him out of my hair for awhile." She's quiet for a moment, still smiling. "Aren't you going to ask me what's in the bag? I know you must be dying to find out."

I'm afraid to find out. But if I tell her that, it might irritate her. "Yes. What is it?"

"It's a present for you. I had it made specially. I was going to wait awhile to give it to you, but you were so good last night that you deserve a reward."

Last night I had been allowed off the bed and in the living room. Still handcuffed, of course, and after she'd made me swallow two tranquilizers. I lay on the couch with my head in her lap, and she played videos. I can't remember what we saw. The first one had flying severed heads, I know that. She kept making disgusted noises. She'd gotten it because I've always liked gory horror movies.

The second some drama or romance. I fell asleep during it. I woke up sometime later with her on top of me, her damp pubis rubbing hard against my bare thigh while her fingers moved inside of me.

She reaches into the bag and pulls out what looks like a wide black velvet choker necklace. There is a heart shaped silver pendant in front, and an ornate capital F is stitched right above it. "Isn't it beautiful?"

She bought me jewelry? I never wear jewelry. I look at it more closely. What I thought was velvet is actually suede. And there's a silver buckle on one end. She holds the heart shaped pendent up in front of my eyes so I can read what is engraved there.

"Free. Property of Dana Scully"

I don't realize I'm crying till I feel the tears start to drip off my chin.

She says she loves me.