His Girl

Chapter 9

"P-p-p-please, p-p-please," I whimpered.

As he hoisted me up, the arm carrying my bottom almost immediately switched to cradle me under the knees. A small flicker of hope lit back up, but them the voice came back, more intense than before.

You are worthless. You are nothing. You are a mistake. You are so weak. No one will ever want you. You are nothing. You are nothing. You are nothing. 

I felt myself being set down on a familiar fluffy surface. The comforter seemed to engulf me as Silas rested my body on top of it. My body continued to shake, both from the attack and because I was cold. Thankfully, I could feel my body winding down from my panic, and I was suddenly exhausted. A blanket magically appeared, covering every part of my body but my head. 

I yawned as my breathing slowly evened out and the voices started to recede.

"Go to sleep, Emerson."

He didn't need to tell me twice. 

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When I awoke, my head pounded. I was about to moan, but a faint sound caught my attention. It sounded like someone mumbling, although I couldn't tell what any of the words were. The voice seemed to be close and far away at the same time.

I let my eyelids flutter open. It took me a minute to forgot how I got there, but in a second it all came rushing back. Sitting up, I sighed quietly, ashamed that I had let one of Deacon's clients see me in that state, not once, but twice. I swallowed the lump in my throat, knowing I would have to apologize and beg Silas not to tell Deacon. 

"You're awake." I jumped as I was started out of my thoughts. I hadn't even noticed that Silas had pulled up one of the chairs to sit next to the bed. He sat there, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned towards me.

For a split second, I couldn't help but notice how attractive he was. But just as quickly, the squashed the thought. I needed to remember that he was just like every other man that paid to be in here with me. 

I nodded. "Y-y-yes s-sir. I-I-I-I am s-s-sorry, M-M-Mister M-M-Marshall. So so so so s-s-sorry." 

He brought his hand up to his face, pinching the bridge on his nose. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Silas? Do not call me Mister Marshall or Mister or Sir. Just Silas. Understood?" I bit my tongue and nodded; my gaze fixed on the blanket draped across me. "Didn't we also just talk about eye contact?" I closed my eyes briefly before allowing them to flicker up to meet his much darker ones. He nodded his approval. "Much better." I felt my cheeks burn under his heated gaze. "I realize now that I did come across more harshly than I intended, and for that I am sorry."

I stopped breathing, and my eyes grew to the size of saucers.

Was he apologizing?

To me? 

"You don't need to be afraid of me, Emerson." His voice softened when he continued. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I felt a lone tear slide down my face as I looked back at him, my bottom lip trembling. I was able to find my voice to reply. "I don't know how."

He frowned, his eyebrows scrunching up. "What do you mean you don't know how? What do you not know how to do?"

This time, I couldn't look at him as I admitted, "I don't know how to not be afraid."

He thought for a minute. "How about this: you ask me any question about myself, and I'll answer it honestly. If you know me better, maybe you won't be so scared of me." I bit my lip, unsure if it was a good idea. "But," he held up a finger, "I get to ask you questions too, and you have to answer honestly."

Immediately, I shook my head no. I knew that if he asked any personal questions about me or about Deacon, I would be in huge trouble. I think he could see the panic in my eyes because he held up both of his hands in surrender.

"I promise I won't ask any questions that are too personal. I told you, I'm not going to hurt you, and I don't want you to be scared of me."

"Why haven't you tried to take advantage of me?" The question blurted out of my mouth before I could stop it. I instantly slapped my hands over my mouth. My face burned. "I-I-I'm s-sorry; I s-s-shouldn't have a-a-asked-"

Silas held up a hand to stop me. "Emerson, you don't need to apologize. And I haven't done anything because I don't want to."

I cocked my head to the side, curious. "But why-"

"No." He shook his head. "One question at a time. It's my turn now." I snapped my mouth shut. "Tell me what you have nightmares about."

I shook my head. Just like the words in my journal, I could never let anyone know what I dreamt about. "I-I-I-I can't." My eyes teared up again, and my body beginning to shake. My hair fell around my face, covering my pale face like a shield. 

In an instant, the voices were back full force, screaming at me in my head. 

You are worthless. You are nothing. You are a mistake. You are so weak. No one will ever want you. You are nothing.

"Hey, shhh. It's ok." Silas reached forward, pushed strands away from my face, and tucked them behind the ear. I stilled as his fingers grazed my temple. As the pads of his fingertips touched me, the voices disappeared. Instead, my heart started rapidly beating again. "I'm sorry. Forget that I asked."

I couldn't believe my ears. He had apologized, twice, in the past ten minutes. I felt nauseous, sure that this was all a trap, a lie, a ploy to get me to trust him. Besides, I didn't want to fill myself with any false hope.

"I-I'm ok," I lied. 

"What is your favorite thing that you like to do?" he asked softly. I bit my lip and shrugged. "You don't know what you like to do?" He raised an eyebrow. I had to look down at my hands that were playing with the comforter.

"Emerson, look at me." I flinched. "Please." That word gave me pause. I gripped my hands together tightly and managed to dare a peek at him. 

"You must like something. Tell me." I nervously glanced around the room, extremely unsure if I should tell him. 

Biting my lip, I responded quietly, so quietly I wasn't even sure if he could hear me. "Writing. I like to write." 

Silas nodded. "Ok, good to know." He ran a hand through his obsidian locks before scratching the back of his tattoed neck. "Your question."

I thought for a second before asking. "W-w-why are you b-b-being so nice to m-m-me?" I blushed as soon as I finished the sentence. I twisted my head the other way, hoping he wouldn't see my red-stained face.

"Emerson." His voice came out soft, like he didn't want to scare me. Just like before, Silas reached out with his hand to gently grip my chin, forcing my face back towards him. His eyes met mine again, but this time, I couldn't look away. My breath stalled we continued to stare at one another. 

The ringing of his cell phone broke us out of the moment, and I jumped from the noise. He grunted roughly before standing and yanking his phone out of the pocket. I fiddled with my thumbs as he stood a few feet away, mumbling  something that I couldn't understand. I realized after a minute that I couldn't make out what he was saying because it was a different language. 

After a minute or two, he abruptly shoved his phone into his pocket and turned back to me. "I have to go, some business to attend to. I'll be back later." He nodded, his face serious again, nothing like he had shown me moments ago. But then in an instant, his face softened when he looked at me. "Don't go anywhere, Emerson. Ok?" I nodded, twiddling my thumbs. Silas nodded. "Good."

And just like that, he was gone.

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