Ian bursts in the door, startling me. I turn quickly, my arm upsetting the shelf of chemicals. I watch the beaker fall, as if in slow motion. It lands on the table, shattering. The contents splash down my right side. A scream bursts from my mouth as a burning sensation tears down my leg. Among the shattered glass the label is still readable. Liquid Formaldehyde? Why is that even in my lab?
I shut my eyes, biting my lip to choke back the pain searing across my flesh. Ian runs to my side. He cuts away my pants in a swift motion. He grabs my garden hose, which is just within reach, as I was using it moments ago. He rinses the chemical from my body. I try not to bawl as he looks me over. He rubs my leg down with a salve. I watch my skin heal, the damage disappearing as quickly as it spread. I sit up, surprised as always, at his skill in healing. He really is a genius.
I look deep into his eyes. His eyes begin with light green around the pupil, with rings of blue and green, darkening as the colors spread to the outermost ring of the iris. On his knees in front of me he drops one hand next to my hip, resting the other my knee. I lean back, my palms on the ground for support.
His gaze mesmerizes me as his hand runs up the soft skin of my thigh toward my hip. I shiver. He is beautiful, tall, tanned with perfect sandy brown hair. And those eyes. I sigh. I don’t like to be touched, but he’s got me like a snake constricting its prey. I lean in against my better judgment. He did just heal me.
His lips meet mine. My intense hatred for him washes over me in a wave of self-loathing. He claims to love me deeply. I’ve never offered those three words. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I can barely stand him, but my father liked him, said he was a brilliant man. I wonder why my father never saw the cold, calculating man he really is. I hate the thought of being his puppet, his minion. I am little more than a pet to him.
His weight is pushing down on me, but I can’t fight. The air is forced out of my lungs. I look into those amazing eyes imagining more than ever a predator seeking prey. He roughly pulls my hair, jerking my head back to deliver painful bites and kisses to my delicate neck.
I beg him to stop, but this excites him more. Sickened and angry, I fight and struggle, trying to rid myself of his weight. He laughs, the sound chills me to the bone. I scream as he strikes me. Stunned, I wipe the blood from my lip. Catching his stare I decide to spit the remainder in his face. He strikes me again. I bite my tongue, not wanting to give him the pleasure. I won't scream again.
He is suddenly lifted from me. I squint into the light to see who came to my aid. I can’t make out more than a large shadow. The two are whisked out the door as quickly as they came. I stand, wiping the blood from my mouth, watching for someone to come through the door, willing the shaking to cease and calming my mind. I wrap my arms around myself, my shirt fluttering against my hip. My eyes search over the empty tree line.
