His Slave

43. I Love You

I run until I can't run any longer. When I finally stop, I realize that I'm at a park. With a heavy sigh, I take a seat on one of the benches to catch my breath, wiping at the rest of my tears. I lean my head back, staring up at the storm clouds that have hung over the city the last few days. I hope it doesn't rain.

Maybe running away wasn't the smartest thing I could have done. I could have tried to talk it out with him better.

I really need to work on learning to think before I act.

But he hurt me. I didn't know what else to do. I needed a moment alone to think.

He agreed to let the government observe me so they could try and keep us all compliant.

How could he do that to me? How long has he been giving the government information about my behavior, and why?

Why would he even tell me if he wasn't supposed to?

Because he felt guilty.

It took a lot of courage for me to admit that I had been inquiring about the rebels behind his back, so it must have taken a lot of courage for him to confess his mistakes to me, too.

A little flicker of regret sparks inside me. Maybe I was a little too harsh.

He never really explained to me why he agreed either. There has to be a reason. I should have agreed to sit down and talk everything out with him, but I didn't do that. I ran.

I decide that I should probably head back to Harrington Manor, but then I realize that I ran for so long that I don't know how to get back.

I've never been allowed outside the gates by myself before. None of this looks familiar.

I stand up, turning in a slow circle, trying to remember which direction I came from and that's when I see the young man stalking towards me, a sinister grin plastered across his thin lips.

"Hey there, strawberry. I bet you're a real juicy one," he retorts, snorting like a pig.

Oh god. Panic shoots through me as I back away from him. "Leave me alone!" I spit at him, forcing as much anger and venom into my words as possible.

He chuckles, waddling towards me. "Where's the fun in that?" He demands.

I glare at him. "There isn't any fun in this. Now get lost, you fucking creep before I rip your dick off and choke you with it!" I hiss at him.

He snarls like a wild dog. "You think you can just talk to me like that, you little bitch?" He demands, straining to pick up his pace.

I continue to back away from him, holding my head high. I won't give him the satisfaction of letting him intimidate me. "Yes. I can speak to you however I like," I snap boldly.

"That's where you're wrong, and I'm going to show you just how wrong you are," he says, anger lacing his words.

Fuck. As humiliating as it is, I guess I'm going to have to play the James Harrington card. "If you lay a single finger on me, James will make sure you never see the outside of a prison cell again!" I snap.

That makes him stop. "James? As in James Harrington?" He demands skeptically, the hint of fear in his voice betraying him.

I nod, folding my arms over my chest. "Yes, and if you come any closer he'll beat the shit out of you," I retort, hoping it'll be enough to get him to back down.

Luckily, I don't have to find out.

"Hey!" Someone calls, their voice deep and refined. "Leave that young lady alone!"