Frea

The next morning, Lydia woke up to the sounds of incredibly loud music and her best friend, Sophie, banging pots and pans in the kitchen. Reluctantly, she rolled out of bed and went into the kitchen to see what her friend was up to. The smell of bacon and eggs repulsed Lydia, and she had to fight back a wave of nausea. "Sorry, did I wake you?" Sophie shouted above the din. She turned off the radio by the sink and turned to inspect Lydia, "God, kid, you look like hell."

"Gee, thanks." Lydia pulled her favorite mug down from the cabinet and poured herself some coffee. She leaned on the square inch of counter that Sophie was not using to cook and just stood there, eyes closed, sniffing her coffee, enjoying comfort in its familiarity.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No"

"Do you want to go see a movie?"

"Sure"

"Do you think that we could invite that cop from last night?" Lydia rolled her eyes at her friend. Sophie was referring to the officer that had come to Lydia's apartment after she found the note. The young officer was cute, and Sophie had flirted openly with him, even going so far as to suggest that he stay the night in case Lydia's attacker came back.

"Only you could make this in to a chance to find a date."

"So that's a 'no' then?" Lydia scoffed and headed off to shower and dress.

She stood naked before the full length mirror on her bathroom door, looking at herself. There were bite marks and bruises down her neck and collarbone and light bruises on her wrists where he held her down; but, other than that, she looked whole and unhurt. In fact, she looked like she had not really tried to fight him at all. She felt a small ache of shame as she touched the back of head, the place where he had grabbed her and pulled her across the icy stone floor of the library. The spot was still tender; a bitter chill ran up her spine at the memory. Everything about that room had been cold; the floor, the books, the table. Everything was cold, except him. Even now, hours later, he burned against her skin like flame. She turned on the shower, turning the cold water on full blast, hoping to quench the fire that he left on her. Lydia stood still and quiet, letting the freezing water beat against her body until she could not stand it anymore. Gradually, she increased the water's temperature until she felt it was hot enough to get her clean. She grabbed her wash cloth and body wash and scrubbed herself raw until the hot water ran out. Even as she dried herself off, she felt dirty. She was going to need to shower again.

That night, Lydia was staying at Sophie's place, hoping that a change of scenery might help. She lay curled up on the couch, T.V. on quietly, tuned to some mindless sitcom so that she felt less alone. She was just on the edge of sleep when she felt the hand brush against the side of her face. She nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned on the light lamp and looked around her, but she was alone. "Sophie?" she whispered to the empty room, "Are you there?" When there was no response, Lydia snuggled back under the blankets, gently berating herself for her wild imagination, but leaving the light on just in case. She was about to drift off to sleep again when she felt a hand covering her mouth. She opened her eyes and looked directly into the face of her attacker. He looked angry as he stood over her, pressing a gun to her forehead.

"Don't scream." She struggled against his hand, trying to make enough noise to rouse Sophie; he increased the pressure of the gun. "Listen. Listen to me." She quieted down, "That's better. Now, you and I are going to have a little talk, and if you get too loud, I promise that I will go into that room and kill your little friend. Do you understand?" Lydia nodded meekly. "Good. I'm going to take my hand away from your mouth now, remember if you scream, she dies." He moved his hand away from her mouth and the gun away from her head. Sitting down next to her on the edge of the couch, he reached out toward her. She shrank away from his touch. "Ah-ta-ta-ta," he corrected, indicating with his pistol that it would probably be a better idea if she let him do what he wanted. He reached out to her again, and this time, she let him make contact. His hand molded gently to the side of her face, his fingers brushed carefully down her jaw line, sending a chill up her spine. Tenderly, he grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tilted her head to the side. "There's my good girl." He murmured in approval when she did not resist him. He pushed her hair behind her ears, fully exposing her neck to him. His finger tips traced the outlines of the bruises he had left there fondly, almost affectionately. Cautiously, so as not to startle her, he brought his face closer and ran his nose along her throat, inhaling her scent. A barely audible whine told him that she was at the limit of her control. He pulled away from her. Lydia's eyes were squeezed shut, her breath was ragged, and she was trembling like leaf. She was so beautiful when she was afraid. "Look at me." He commanded. She opened her wide green eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself. He pulled her left hand into his and held it palm up giving him access to the bruise on her wrist, "I didn't hurt you too badly, did I?" He spoke lowly, as if to himself. Lydia remained quiet. When he was done with his inspection, he looked into her eyes without letting go of her hand, "I want you to go back home after tonight."

"Why?"

"Because, I don't want to have to track you down again"

"I don't have to do as you say"

"You'll find that things will go smoother for you if you do" His voice was slightly threatening. She looked him straight in the eye, trying not to show how afraid she was. She stated as calmly as possible,

"The police are out looking for you." He smiled at that,

"Yes, you were the perfect victim, weren't you? You reported me as soon as I left you. You didn't shower, you were patient and calm for all of the tests, you answered all of their questions completely; you did everything you were supposed do. The police have my name, my DNA, my finger prints, even a basic description of me. But something tells me that I'll be safe from them, no matter how many times you call them." He watched her eyes, waiting for the words to sink in. He liked what he saw there; there was no hint of submission in her eyes, there was only defiance, but her pulse raced under his fingers, betraying just how afraid she actually was. "If you do not go back to your apartment tomorrow," he warned, tightening his grip on her wrist and getting back on topic, "then I will be forced to do something drastic. You don't want that, do you?" She shook her head. "Good. We only have one more thing to discuss, and then I'll leave you to get some sleep." He removed his hand from her arm and dug in to his pocket, "I want you to tell me what these are." In his hand were some plastic and foil wrapped pill packages, one of which was empty. She looked at the drugs and then at him, wondering how he could have known. He looked at her expectantly, holding the pills out to her as if giving her an opportunity to analyze them more closely, "Well?"

"How did you get those?" She asked.

"They were in your bag. What are they?"

"Emergency contraception" He looked angry again, and she was consumed with the sudden urge to explain herself, "Well, you didn't use a condom, and I really can't get pregnant right now, and it was so close to when I would be... fertile, that it just seemed like a really good idea to, you know, protect myself. And then your note said that you would be back, so I figured that I had better stock up? " She ended her speech uncertainly, as if seeking his approval. He sighed heavily, like she was missing something important and obvious as he put the medication back in his pocket. He touched her face once more, pulling her close and kissing her gently on the forehead. Without another word, he left her alone.

When she was sure he was gone Lydia sprang up off the couch and sprinted into Sophie's room. Her friend was sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware that there was just a rapist in her living room. "Sophie! Oh my God, Sophie, wake up." Lydia shook her friend violently into consciousness.

"Lydia, what happened? What's wrong?" Lydia tried to explain everything as best she could, but the shock of the encounter began to overwhelm her. The story came out broken and incomprehensible through the sobbing, Lydia was barely able to catch her breath. She felt dizzy and claustrophobic suddenly. Sophie dialed the police and tried to calm her friend down. She slapped Lydia sharply across the face, the shock of it snapping her out of her panic.

When the police arrived, Lydia was mostly calm. She was able to tell her story and walk the officers through exactly what happened. According to them, there were no signs of forced entry, the front door and all the windows were locked; in fact, there was no sign that he had been there at all. The officers looked at her sympathetically as one of them asked if it was possible that she simply had a nightmare. She did her best to assure them that it was, in fact, very real. All they did was promise that they were doing everything that they could to catch the man who hurt her, and suggest that she seek professional help to deal with the trauma.

After they left, Lydia could not even attempt to sleep. She just sat up with all the living room lights on, watching infomercials with a pot of coffee until the sun came up.

Her apartment was exactly as she left it the day before, except for a box on the bed. She was tempted to call the police again, but she knew that they would get no new information about her visitor, so there was no point in calling. She lifted the lid on the box carefully, revealing a black lace chemise nestled in the white tissue paper. Underneath it was a note, written on heavy ivory card stock in Alexander's tidy script 'A gift, so that you will be prepared for when I come for you again.' The note gave no indication of when she should be prepared to see him again, but she was fairly certain that it would not be that night, so she put the lingerie away in a drawer and got ready for her shift at the library.

Almost a month had gone by without any word from Alexander. Lydia was beginning to hope that he had forgotten about her, but she knew that it would not be that simple. And sure enough, she came home after a day of classes and saw a twig of basswood flowers lying on the pillow next to a note, 'I will visit you tonight, please leave your bedroom window open. There will be consequences if you cross me'. Lydia knew that she should probably call the police, but Alexander seemed smart, and there was a good chance that having the police around would qualify as "crossing" him, she was not entirely sure that he was not watching her at that very moment. Lydia swore loudly to her empty apartment. She had just gotten back into a routine after her first round with Alexander, now he was going to come back and disrupt her all over again. 'Only if you let him' she reminded herself, and threw open her bedroom window as the sun set behind the cathedral.

She was lying on her stomach on the bed, trying to concentrate on a book when Alexander slid through the window, shutting and locking it behind him. She sat up as he entered resting her backside on her heels and giving him the prefect view to appreciate how well the black lace clung to and accentuated every one of her curves. Her milky white breasts pressing against and straining the material as she awaited him nervously on the bed. He approached her slowly, predatorily, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. Despite her nerves, she noticed his well sculpted and muscular form. He had the body of someone who did hard work for a living, not someone who spent their lives at the gym. Even though it was October, his skin still held the bronze hue of a summer's tan. His sparkling blue eyes never left her body, making Lydia squirm under his gaze. He climbed on to the bed with her, and she moved back, trying to keep some distance between their bodies. He held up a hand to stop her and reached out toward her. Guessing what it was that he wanted, Lydia pressed her face into his hand. He stroked her check with his thumb, "You are so beautiful."

"I don't want this." She said in a soft murmur.

"I don't care," he replied, moving closer so that he could whisper in her ear, "you belong to me now."