Chapter 8-stomach ailment
1786 Words
Rainie's POV
In the next instant, I found myself pushed onto the couch.
He leaned over, but this time it wasn't rushed; it was gentle and deliberate, igniting the most primal sensations within me.
Even though I held a deep hatred for the man before me, he certainly knew how to manipulate my senses, and my body ultimately betrayed my own will.
As waves of pleasure rolled over me like an all-encompassing force, the world seemed to shatter before my eyes.
The merging of ecstasy and the searing ache in my mind left me on the verge of losing consciousness.
When I finally resurfaced, he was tenderly caressing the legs that had instinctively wrapped around his waist.
A soft, mocking chuckle escaped him, "You seem to have quite the talent in this regard."
Blushing with embarrassment, I averted my gaze, my eyes swollen and parched as if they were a desert stripped of moisture, suffused with an overwhelming sense of despair.
His retaliation had been a triumphant success; I had succumbed utterly to my senses. I had sunk so low, relinquishing even the last vestiges of my dignity.
Alexander savored his conquest leisurely before heading for the shower. What I was left with, however, was merely a glass of water and two pills.
I retreated to the adjoining bathroom to cleanse myself. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, a bitter smile tugged at my lips.
I pointed a trembling finger at the reflection of myself, whispering softly, "You've truly hit rock bottom."
Emerging from the shower, my skin tinged with redness, his presence seemed to linger on me.
I gave in and turned off the water, stepping out cautiously.
The lights in the room had been extinguished, leaving only a dim nightlight to illuminate the surroundings.
I could discern the rise on the bed, his breathing steady and prolonged.
Seating myself on the cold floor beside the floor-to-ceiling window, I pressed my face against the glass, my gaze fixed on the enigmatic nighttime panorama outside.
My body ached relentlessly, yet sleep remained elusive.
The building's height was dizzying; I fixed my gaze on the narrow streets below, resembling thin straws.
If I were to plummet, the painless embrace of death awaited me, didn't it?
Lost in contemplation, I was suddenly hit by the side effects of the contraceptive pill. Nausea surged through my throat, but vomiting proved impossible. The day had been a parade of humiliation.
Lunch and dinner had been forsaken.
My empty stomach reacted harshly, sending pulsating waves of agony.
My forehead glistened with beads of sweat, and I'd inadvertently bitten my lips until they bled.
My body curled into a tight ball, shivers coursing through me uncontrollably.
My thoughts turned to my father, his feeble frame ravaged by a stomach ailment, his smile perpetually graceful despite his condition.
Tears welled up, obscuring my view of the city's nocturnal splendor outside, the vision distorted, much like the painting "Starry Night" by Vincent van Gogh.
What did my own agony amount to compared to his suffering? He endured so much pain, perhaps even more than I could fathom.
Slowly regaining my mental composure, I realized that a man like Alexander wouldn't lack for companionship.
Once he'd vented his anger, our paths would likely never cross again.
I had to endure, had to persevere, for the sake of my father.
Alexander awoke with a light stir, not in a deep slumber.
"What the hell are you doing over there?" His voice pierced the room.
I didn't answer, which seemed to irk him.
He tossed the covers aside and strode over, grabbing my arm to pull me up.
But my body felt limp, sinking downward.
He lifted my chin and felt the cold sweat dampening my neck.
Surprised, he switched on the light and saw me with eyes half-open, a pallor like paper, fingers clenched tight, as if in agony, yet lips pressed so tightly together, refusing to let a sound escape.
"What's wrong with you?"
He pinched my cheeks to force my mouth open, but I shook my head.
My hand pressed against my stomach, and I let out a low moan.
Alexander let go, and I slumped to the ground, devoid of the strength to stand. His footsteps faded for a moment, then returned after a while. He lifted my chin again and commanded, "Open your mouth."
Gathering my strength, I opened my eyes to see his palm just inches away, holding a jet-black pill, emanating a faint medicinal scent.
I obediently held it in my mouth.
The bitterness erupted like a detonation, prompting me to hastily accept the hot water he handed me and swallow the pill down.
In a cold tone, he admonished, "Be quiet, and don't make a damn sound in pain."
With that, he turned and walked away.
I lay down on the couch, curled up, clutching my knees.
Gradually, the pain receded, and I fell into a fitful sleep after an uncertain passage of time.
When I roused, sunlight bathed the entire room.
I shielded my eyes and stretched my still-tender body.
The silk sheets caressed my skin like flowing water, their smoothness jolting me awake. Wide-eyed, I stared at the plush bed, wondering when I had been placed there.
Alexander's warm breath brushed the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
Suddenly, a hand pressed onto my waist, warmth seeping through the bathrobe, scalding like a burning coal.
My body stiffened, and I instinctively swatted his hand away.
The crisp sound reverberated, and regret surged in.
Alexander gripped my shoulder, turning me around to meet his gaze, his eyes devoid of warmth.
He lifted my chin to make me meet his gaze, his eyes devoid of warmth.
"Miss Spark, remember you're currently in need of my assistance, and my patience is wearing thin."
I dared not speak, lowered my gaze, and my heart pounded so violently it felt as if it might burst out of my throat.
He pulled my collar down to my shoulders, exposing large swaths of snowy white skin.
I closed my eyes, my body as rigid as stone, the sensation of humiliation spreading through me as his touch traversed my body.
His warm fingertips glided slowly across my face, wiping away the traces of tears. Alexander's icy chuckle broke through, "Still shedding tears?"
His voice receded as he got out of bed, the sound of him dressing quickly following suit.
His footsteps faded into the distance, but his crisp voice continued to hang in the air, "Not familiar with the process? No worries, take a day to figure it out. If you're still the same when I return tonight, have the self-awareness to leave."
The door shut, leaving me in a daze. I moved slowly to the floor-to-ceiling window, my gaze fixed on the flowing traffic below as I drifted into thought.
Shadows stretched and shrank with time, and eventually, everything was swallowed by the encompassing darkness.
Alexander re-entered the room, his brow furrowing upon seeing the dimly lit environment. With a sigh, he flicked on the light and noticed my unchanged attire from earlier—still in the bathrobe.
My gaze remained fixed on the outside night, and he commented with a cold smile, "It's not bedtime yet. No need to dress like you're ready for it."
His voice suddenly snapped me back to reality, and a shiver ran down my spine. He averted his eyes, spotting the untouched meal on the table, and his gaze darkened momentarily.
"Looks like last night's medication went to waste. You don't even consider your own stomach."
I lowered my head, rendered motionless by his presence.
His unwavering gaze locked onto me, and as I gradually comprehended the message he had conveyed before leaving, I took a deep breath, choking back tears.
Slowly, I approached him, my voice trembling, "Mr. Heffernan..."
He lifted my chin, his expression almost a smile, "As wooden as ever. Is this the conclusion after a day of contemplation?"
His chilling demeanor rendered me momentarily speechless, and before I could respond, he gently pushed me aside.
I stumbled, my back colliding with a nearby table, a sharp pain eliciting an involuntary gasp. Ignoring my discomfort, he instructed, "Get dressed. Within five minutes, vanish from my sight."
Vanish?
I stood there, momentarily in a haze of confusion. The pulsating ache in my back brought me back to reality.
Clenching my fists, I stared at the decisive man who had turned his attention towards the table.
His countenance left me momentarily bewildered, prompting an involuntary comparison between him and Dylan.
Dylan's brows lacked the same ruggedness; he didn't habitually purse his lips like Alexander did.
The spectrum of emotions in Dylan's eyes was far more expansive, and his movements didn't possess that innate air of swift decisiveness and unrelenting resolve...
How could such distinctive differences in their demeanor elude me during that intoxicated state?
Enveloped in my thoughts, I remained oblivious to his rising until the faint aroma of tobacco wafted towards me, triggering an instinctual step backward.
Alexander glanced at the bathrobe adorning me, remarking, "I did grant you some time—" His words coincided with one hand opening the door while the other applied pressure to my shoulder.
Aroused from my surprise, I was about to utter a response when, before I could react, a powerful force propelled me forward, causing me to barely regain my balance before the door sealed shut with a decisive click.
I stood there, momentarily flabbergasted, then hastened to the door, striking it with my fist. The substantial walnut door redirected my efforts, leaving my knuckles throbbing a fiery hue.
Yet, within its confines, no sound emerged.
Cold sweat began to surface as I trembled, my focus trained on the bathrobe and slippers. Even without facing them, I could sense the penetrating gazes of passersby in the corridor, each stare rending the robe's opaque facade.
My cheeks blazed with mortification, my body quivering like a brittle leaf in the autumn breeze.
What should I do? How do I extricate myself from this predicament?
These questions echoed incessantly, yet the cocktail of humiliation and helplessness had rendered my mind void of any viable solutions.
My palm resounded against the door until numbness enveloped it.
Desperation had taken firm hold of me.
Leaning my forehead against the door, I cast my gaze downward, the intricate patterns on the carpet inducing a sense of vertigo.
Lost in my ruminations, a pair of sleek leather shoes materialized in my line of sight.
I blinked, lifting my head to meet the gaze of a gentleman exuding sartorial refinement.
He offered a genial smile and queried, "Miss, do you require assistance?"
- Writer
