Imagine Being Loved By Me

Chapter 4

Everything was dull and heightened all at the same time, and the man that kept staring at her exposed body was not helping her warring emotions.

She could hear him closer to the balcony, doing whatever it was he was doing. She pretended to sleep so she wouldn’t feel the need to stare at him and so he’d leave her alone.

Since she had awakened, she hadn’t stolen one glance at his face, so she wasn’t sure what he looked like. He smelled nice, clean, and his hands were always warm and soft whenever he touched her. His voice was soothing, smooth, with a slight accent she couldn’t place. Almost all of her senses were engaging him whenever he was near, except her sight.

But she couldn’t bring herself to look at him out of fear, and a lesser feeling of shame.

Up until this point, she’d managed to keep herself alive, and now, because she dragged out a life that wasn’t worth living, she was like a rag doll completely unable to defend herself.

Beaten down and completely at the mercy of another strange man.

A man she didn't know and couldn't trust.

Yes, he seemed to be helping her at the moment, but there was no telling why he wanted her alive. And she was scared to find out. Either way, there wasn't any chance she would be able to return to her life before.

When she first heard of her captor's death, she was beyond relieved. That is until she realized that his death did not equate to her freedom. Everyone that came into the room she was relegated to was only looking to line their pockets. They stole all his jewelry from the closet, his clothes, his medals, everything they could get their hands on that was of value.

For the most part, she was ignored, until she wasn’t.

When the looters came, they tried to take more than valuable materials. It was a terrifying experience being left completely alone without a way to escape. But it only got worse when people would break into the house to try and take whatever was left. She spent most of her energy hiding whenever she heard anyone forcing their way in, hoping beyond hope that the gold chain wouldn’t catch their attention and lead them straight to her. Many times, she was successful. But others, not so much. The other half of her energy she spent fighting off their touchy hands that were constantly trying to take more and more.

The defending of her body only became harder the longer she went without food. And the people who came to loot only seemed to get worse.

She remembered vividly the woman that gently disrobed her in order to take the gown she wore.

It was a cerulean blue and, apparently, the last piece of something "nice" left in the house. It was such a memorable experience because the woman was with a man and the man had just tired her out trying to have his way with her. She had clawed and bit and screamed for him to get away from her but she was losing energy the more she struggled.

He had just snapped the strap to the gown she had on, exposing one of her small breasts. The sight seemed to give him a renewed vigor as he came at her again.

But he was stopped by the sound of a woman’s shout.

A woman had yelled at him in a language she didn't understand, but she imagined the yell was because he was trying to violate her, another woman who was helpless.

It became clear to her, however, that the woman's shouts in protest were because of how reckless he was being with the gown she wore, rather than how reckless he was being with her as a person, as a fellow woman.

The lady caressed the gown lovingly, with care, before removing it from her lithe frame altogether.

Standing there in her shame, completely naked, and drained, she started to cry for the first time since she was abandoned. The woman only stared at her with a non-judgmental look before reaching out to stroke her cheek.

“Beautiful,” she mumbled in heavily accented Standard before stuffing the gown into her bag and grabbing the man by the ear to lead him out of the room.

She crumbled to the ground after the door was shut, wailing out in mental and physical agony. She didn’t have much more to give and if she truly wanted to survive, she needed to pull it together. If more looters came, she probably wouldn’t be able to defend herself another time. She didn’t have any clothes to cover her nakedness, she couldn’t lock the door, and she didn’t have food. The worse things were, the more she continued to list. All she could really do was drink water from the sink and preserve her energy.

It was something she was mostly successful in doing, that is, until both the lights and water were turned off.

She was thankful that the water stayed on for the first month of her being left alone, but about the first week into the second, that was the last time she had a bath or a drink.

There hadn’t been many looters in the second month, but of course, at a certain point, she had completely blanked out, unable to stay awake long enough to count to ten. So there could have been many more looters than she remembered, but she wouldn’t be able to say if there were.

And now, seemingly out of the blue, there was a strange man lingering around, helping her.

Something about the entire situation didn't fit with what she knew to be her life, which seemed like a constant battle as of late.

First, and almost the most worrying thing, was that the man in question seemed to be doing the opposite of looting.

She peeked her eyes open slowly, letting them adjust to the light before she cast them in his direction.

The sun seemed to cast a halo around his frame, but when she squinted, she was able to see him better through the glare.

He was pale-skinned even though his complexion boasted a slight sun-kissed tan, with even paler blonde feathered hair, a long elegant neck, and broad shoulders. He looked like he was important, with the same look of the general who chained her to the wall. She couldn’t make out the complete look of his face since he was sitting to the side and his hair was covering his forehead and eyes, but she could make out a long defined nose, and full lips set above a sharp squared jaw.

He was reading some papers, his full lips moving steadily to whatever he was seeing, and she hoped that meant he was focused enough to not pay her any attention while she continued to examine him.

For someone who gave off such an aura of importance when he was near her, she expected him to be older, but he didn’t look any older than she was.

Quietly, she tried to clear her parched throat, but even then he seemed to hear her.

Once his intense eyes met hers, she could feel herself pause.

He was all sharp angles, high cheekbones, with beautiful rounded eyes and strong eyebrows that were darker than the hair on his head. Oddly, something about him looked like a much paler version of herself. She couldn’t remove her eyes from his frame as he stood up to walk towards her. He had on a black button-up shirt that emphasized his slim waist, and black tailored pants that showcased his slender hips and toned thighs. His presence was threatening in a completely different way than the older general, causing her heart to pick up speed as he neared.

Once he was standing above her again, he looked at the water bag that was hanging on the bedpost above her head. It was empty.

“How are you feeling?” His warm voice caught her off guard.

Her eyes snapped to his again, realizing that without him even meeting her eyes, there was a weight to them, a profound glare that intimidated her more. Once he began looking at her, she struggled to think, fearing having to share words with the stranger. She didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t know if she even had the strength enough to say anything. So she looked into his golden-colored eyes steadily, her own eyes wide with fear.

“I have another IV bag for you,” he started, unhooking the one that was empty. “Tomorrow I want to try feeding you a little food. It’ll be turning colder outside soon, and you being so weak will not help your situation.”

He didn’t wait for a reply as he disappeared into the bathroom and returned with another full bag of solution, “This is the last one I packed. You’ll have to physically start drinking water tomorrow.”

She actually tried to answer, but her voice came out hoarse and caused her to begin to cough. Every cough rattled her ribs painfully, to the point where she couldn’t catch her breath. She could feel herself being lifted up, but even that movement hurt as she gasped for breath. Everything felt heavy, her head was dragging her neck forward, and her bones felt like they were poking through her skin.

There was a warm hand pressed against her chest, restricting her convulsions, and balancing out her weak frame. Eventually, she calmed down, but her vision was pitch black.

“Can’t see,” she croaked out in Standard, gasping for air. “I can’t-,”

“Shh, don’t talk,” he interrupted. “Just relax. You’ve exerted yourself too much. Breathe, and your sight will return.”

She continued to pant, but tried to calm down some, feeling the panic prickling beneath her skin. He was tilting her head back to lay her down, but her body didn’t even feel like it was hers as he controlled it.

As he tucked the covers back up around her shoulders, she realized her little fit caused her to be exposed again. At that point, she was going to pass from shame before anything else, despite the more pressing circumstances she found herself in.

“Get some rest,” he mumbled, walking away from her while she closed her eyes, already feeling exhausted from the few minutes she had been awake.