Before I can inhale my next breath, Harlan has lunged, tenderlessly flipping me onto my back and pinning my wrists down on either side of my head. I gasp, eyes going wide as they find Harlan's own, staring down at me.
"I believe I've made it perfectly clear," he spits. "That you're mine."
I gulp, but say nothing. His eyes narrow, and silently, he drinks me in.
The silence passes. So does my fear. Gathering my breath, I steady myself. "Then you're mine, too."
For a moment, Harlan doesn't flinch. It would have been just as well if it was a statue on top of me, pinning me in place. But then, he softens, eyes falling to my lips. And then, delicately, he nods.
I wake up the next morning, alone in bed, as is always the case. I’m not sure that Harlan ever really sleeps, so it is no surprise
