Beneath his gaze

Taking back control

Isabella

My heart won’t slow. It pounds against my ribs as I pace around the room. The loud ticking of the clock only fueling the deafening helplessness I feel.

I bite my lower lip. Hard.

What have I done?

I pushed him. Dared him to react.

Now—

But he couldn’t have known I’d called Matt right?

Maybe I’m overreacting…

A shaky laugh slips out.

He can’t know.

There’s no way.

I glance at the clock, sighing before walking towards the bathroom and stripping. I adjust the temperature until the water is hot enough to chase away the cold spreading through me.

I take longer than necessary. Careful. Precise.

Not a single hair out of place.

When I step out my fingers glide over the smoothness of my skin.

Dry.

Moisturizer.

I walk to the cabinet, pulling out my pomegranate-scented lotion. Sweet, with a slight tang.

I rub it into my skin slowly, evenly, before looking up at my reflection.

My hair is a mess. Dark. Dull. Lifeless curls.

“Jeez…Definitely seen better days…” I mutter.

I bite my lower lip as I blow dry, working in a leave-in conditioner until my curls fall softer, fuller.

Gloss coats my lips. I press them together, then apply mascara, drawing out the hazel in my eyes.

I smile.

“Almost done.”

I step out and move to my dresser. I already know what I’m wearing.

Lace first. Thin. Black. Sinful.

I pluck the dress from the hanger.

Red. Form-fitting. High slit.

My fingers trace the silk.

I step into my heels, the added height straightening my posture.

I need something…

Something more.

Gold earrings.

Perfect.

Looking at the mirror.

The dress hugs my curves in all the right places, making me look… confident. Bolder than I feel.

The setting sun catches the mirror, light hitting my eyes just right.

Hazel. Bright.

My beauty mark just beneath.

I smile again, slower this time.

“He’s never gonna know what hit him”

It falters.

Wait…

Am I dressing for Matt…

Or—

I shake my head.

No.

It’s not for him.

I take another deep breath and square my shoulders.

This is what he wants.

Me second-guessing.

No.

My eyes harden as I stare back at myself.

I won’t let him control me.

Not anymore.

I walk to my bed, grabbing my phone and purse, slinging it over my shoulder as I head towards the door.

At first there’s nothing but me.

Then—

I feel it.

The shift in the air.

I still—

Slowly, I turn my head, scanning the room. Nothing’s out of place.

The bed.

The dresser.

The mirror.

Still—

My pulse doesn’t listen.

It spikes, sharp and uneven, crawling up my throat.

I swallow hard.

“You’re being paranoid,” I mutter under my breath, the words thin, unconvincing.

My gaze drifts—slow, unwilling—back to the bed.

The rose.

Still there.

Dark. Fragile. Wrong.

My stomach twists.

I shake my head again, clenching my fists.

Stop. I force myself forward, grabbing the handle.

But I can’t pull it.

My hand is there but my body won’t move.

My pulse speeds up. Dread crawls up my spine.

I hesitate.

I shouldn’t open it…

I know I shouldn’t.

Looking around my room once more before I finally tug the door open.

I freeze.

He’s there.

Head tilted.

Eyes locked on mine.

Predatory.

“Hello. princess.” he rasps from beneath the mask.

My heart beats wildly like a drum. Palms sweating as I take a step back.

“You’ve been a very bad girl.”

The smirk in his voice is evident. His hand coming up to grip the back of my neck.

Tight.

Firm.

Possessive.

Holding me in place.

My breath catches—I try to pull away—Too slow.

His other hand presses a cloth over my mouth and nose.

A strangled sound tears from my throat as I fight it, turning my head, trying not to breathe—

But my lungs burn.

Desperate.

Needing.

A shallow inhale slips in—

Then another—

My vision blurs.

Darkens.

My knees buckle.

The last thing I feel—

His arms catching me.

Holding.

As everything goes black.

I’d dared the devil.

And he responded.