DOUBLE EDGED A Harper's Book. (Book 10)

Claimed And Don't Even Realize It

Laying across the bed hunkered beneath the down comforter, I kept staring at the empty soup bowl as if it would magically refill itself. Truth was, the soup was amazing and warmed me through and through. My body ached, head hurt and I was suffering from being sick. My need for another bowl of that warm goodness was strong but I didn't want to risk a run in with King.

He hasn't been back in the room since he left the soup on the bedside table. What's even worse is the word's he said. What does he mean he's trying? No amount of trying can fix what has been done. Now it isn't just about his treatment of me in our early relationship day's. Oh, who am I kidding? There was never a relationship between us. I must stop using that word when referring to our past. King said so himself, I was just his toy to be used and refused. To put it crassly, I was just a fuck to him. Nothing more, nothing less.

The fact of the matter now is, he's apart of some mafia, organized crime, killing world. What am I suppose to do with that? He killed people in front of my very own eye's. I can't just unsee that or pretend it never happened. He's a killer for God sakes. Yes, I know I'm no saint but I'd never kill someone. I may use men and Rob them blind but I'd never set them on fire much less scratch them. Violence of that nature just isn't in my blood. My stomach couldn't cope with such atrocities.

At the mere thought of what I'd seen earlier, my stomach begin to churn and nausea overwhelmed me. The smell of human skin burning, blood and death was still very present to my senses. Shaking my head as if it would evaporate the horror movie that played in my mind, I snuggled down deeper in the bed. Rest. Rest is what I needed right now.

Some time later I awoke. The room was filled with darkness so I assumed night had fell. Rolling over slowly, as my body was still achey , I glanced at the alarm clock. Nearly one in the morning. I didn't feel much better, in fact I felt as if I was in death's door step. Scratch that.... I'm literally in death's bed and home. At least my sense of humor decided to stay while every other emotion abandoned me at the moment. My stomach released an angry growl reminding me that I was still alive and needed fuel especially if I plan on getting better so I can get far, far away from here.

Not wanting to but more out of necessity, I gingerly slid my legs off the bed and slowly sat up. Immediately my head begin to spin so I sat very still until I got my bearings under control. Once the dizziness subsided I stood up on wobbly legs. Chill bumps reflected off of my skin as I left the warmth of the bed. Taking a deep breath, I took my first step. My achey bones protested with every move and my legs felt like lead. Each step made me weaker. By the time I reached the door my brow was pebbled with beads of sweat. It was beyond me how I could be burning up yet freezing at the same time.

Cracking the door open, I peeked into the hall. There was no sign of life anywhere. A soft yellow glow came from underneath the door of the room that served as Kings office. That was a positive. The kitchen was in the opposite direction so there's a huge possibility that I wouldn't chance a run in with him. It took double the amount of time for me to make it to the kitchen. The fact that I was trying to be quiet as a mouse while sick wasn't helping.

First, I pulled a glass down from the cupboard and filled it with water. The cool liquid hitting my throat was the equivalent to the desert getting rain. Refilling the glass, I begin my search for any leftover soup. A large pot sat in the fridge. As I removed the pot in my weakened state it felt as if I was lifting a car. Halfway to the stove I had to stop for a break. In my haste to be rid of the heavy pot, I misjudged the counter. I had only released the pot so I could catch my breath when it came crashing to the floor. I tried to catch it but my reflexes were delayed due to my illness. The pot made the most horrible clatter as it smacked the floor. Rivers of chicken noodle soup flowed across the floor as tears burned the back of my eye's.