Octavius

xii

"He's... he's t-touching me. I can't— I can't.. I w-want to get out of here.. I-I can't be here! I-I c-can't.. can't... please not today." A hand brushed a strand of hair from my face, and stroked my cheek. "H-he's going to kill me. No, no, not I'm so sorry. P-please!"

"Tight little body. Perfect for fucking. Too bad I can't touch you... at least not yet. He would kill me but that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun. What do you think, doll?"

A wracking sob escaped my lips, in such a desolate way that I regretted the feeling of being alive.

I clenched my hands and held it tighter against my mouth so no further sound would escape. The quieter, the better.

"Sh, Topolina. Look at me," Raspy voice with a deep timbre spoke, anchoring my soul a single moment in time. I know that name. Holding my gaze, his tatted thumb caressed my chin desperately trying to pull me back into the here and now and from the binding contract of my destructive mind. "That's it, I've got you. It's me, it's just me. I'm going to hold your hand now, it's just me. Can you feel that?"

Massive, forceful hands slid past my fingers, resting on my palms, reassuring me that everything was fine. I inhaled sharply, almost hesitant as I held his large, skillful palms in contrast to my small tiny fingers; the feeling of cold silver rings sent a whirlwind of butterflies through my stomach, shocking my heart a million times over and left me with the presence of his comforting touch.

        My eyes flashed opened like two flashlight beam, and woke up suddenly before he could do anything but I could still the feel the presence of his chilling hand around my throat, digging deeper into me, with sharp edges running around my sweaty paled skin ready to pierce. Pair of translucent, honey eyes with rings of gold encased the pupils of his eyes — dark, deep eyes that made me want to run for the hills yet pulled my entire attention and everything else in the room faded.

My timid gaze fell to his shapely shoulder, thick tattooed bicep and muscular forearm as he extended one arm high, the reassuring feel of his large, calloused hands as they encircled my waist; I wrapped my arms around his muscular frame, breathing in his familiar scent sending my heartbeat into a frenzy. I caught a glimpse of a long, slender red mark painted over his bulging biceps, an audible gasp escaping me when I realized what it was.

Fingernail marks.

"Is that—I-I didn't... I'm so s-sorry. I-I couldn't," I whimpered lowly, my eyes overflowing with tears. My shoulders wracked with every sob as they eventually forced their way out, my chest rising unevenly and falling as I gasped for breath, my fingers bunching the fabric of the duvet.

"I-I'm s-so sorry. I'm s-so sorry. P-please don't be... be mad. P-please d-don't be mad. I'm so... so sorry." I repeated hysterically, the mantra like an broken record piece playing over and over again.

"Topolina, respirare." Instantly I knew what that word meant — the action he wanted me to carry out. I buried my face in the crook of his neck and wrapped his arms around his waist. Feeling Octavius' heartbeat against my chest, I inhaled deeply, my chest rising as I willed my lungs to perform the simple action of breathing, over and over until I, slowly but surely, calmed down.

        Gently, his long, slender fingers wiped the tear with the pad of his thumb, slowly rubbing my back until my breathing completely slowed. "It's simply a small scratch, yes?"