The days passed as my need to take a bath and brush my teeth increased. I wanted to sleep in a decent bed so the pain I had in my back would leave once and for all. I felt the desire to sleep normally again. but yet, here I was, in full and complete insomnia, drifting thorugh the darkness of dreams and the clarity of reality.
Most of all, my lack of sleep started to affect me. Every minute that passed was another mintue in which I was sinking a little bit deeper on Earth. It was making me run out of hopes, and the only thing that it caused was the constant clattering of my own teeth and the nervous trembling of my hands.
It was very difficult to keep living in reality. I had these weird episodes where suddenly lost consciousness and woke up covered in sweat, though the temperature outside was very low. In those moments when I woke up, I found myself feeling every little outer and inner stimuli. It was as if my emotions sharpened and my whole body was this machine designed to harm me emotionally.
But I must say, what really bothered me were these chills that ran down my back like a cold finger at odd and random moments. Then there was this feeling of pressure in my chest, like claustrophobia. And above all, I hated the nightmares that haunted the brief moments where I could actually sleep.
The worst? Patrick was in those nightmares. And me too.
So that day—I had already lost the sense of time—, when I woke up with a start after having another nightmare and I noticed Patrick standing in front of me staring at me, I almost wanted to die. Nothing worse than waking up and seeing that your nightmare is real.
At this point, I had no strength left to speak. With each passing moment sitting there I felt myself getting weaker and weaker.
—It bothers me when you do that. —Patrick began to say—. You are meant to be here to keep me company me and be awake at all time. Not to sleep forever.
I did nothing. I was not going to spend what little strength I had left in him.
With my eyes half closed, I ordered my body to resist a little more. I tried to guide my eyes towards him again.
—You look so sick. —Patrick smiled. A wave of nausea, hatred and fear ran through my body.
Sure that smile was a proud smile, proud to see me this way. He had created almost all of this. I felt the drops of whatever drug he was putting in my body dripping into the bag hanging from the tripod, infecting me slowly from the inside out, eventually weakening me.
Each time was harder to breathe. Everything around me made me uncomfortable. Everything brought a new feeling to my body, and it was all overwhelming. My mind slowly got more tired, and it was more than a fact that my body had already surrendered. Dionne was right when she said that this was going to be slow.
It became increasingly difficult to differentiate between reality and the subconscious. I saw shadows moving in the cabin, I noticed how the sunlight poured over the wooden walls, I heard how the dead leaves from the trees cracked under the subtle weight of air...
The cold sweat that soaked me only made me feel sticky and uncomfortable.
I slowly got deeper into a dream where Nathan's lips were pressed against my skin, healing the points where the needles had been buried, the places where the rope had damaged profoundly my skin; a dream in which he was wearing white clothes and his hair was all messed up, and he was looking at me with those piercing eyes that were the death of me. His arms wrapped around my waist, just as it should be, as he planted kisses on the curve of my neck, tickling the skin below my ear with his nose... And for a moment it was all so real.
—What are you saying, princess? —I opened my eyes only to see Patrick again. Have I had spoken?—. I think Nathan is not here to help you.
Every time they spoke about him was like shooting a bullet straight to my heart, a bullet that didn't kill me, but stayed there, embedded in my chest, leaving a gaping wound, creating over time an infection that neither antibiotics nor any medicine in the world could fight.
I had spent sleepless nights trying figure out what Patrick might be doing there. Clearly, I felt it was something like revenge, by using him, for being so stupid and be so blinded by love to play with someone's feelings.
I had so many things to ask.
—What are you... doing... here? —I whispered with everything I had left, and I prayed to heaven so Patrick heard what I said, so I wouldn't have to repeat myself.
He took a few steps toward me, getting closer. —Did you say something?
My chest sank and I closed my eyes. —What are you doing... here?
Patrick smiled. —Good question —he said—, you see, when Dionne knew you and I had "broken up", she contacted me. She said she had been planning this, and she needed my help.
But why? Was Dionne psycho and she liked to see me suffer? Does that mean that Patrick was Dionne's sidekick and his presence here does not imply something deeper?
Alike, I had realized what Patrick was able to do. My kidnapper or not, my friend or not, I wouldn't see him in the same way as before. Never ever again.
—She wanted me to help her find a place. And other things... But enough about that right now. —He ran a thumb over his sadistic smile—. So, let's just say that since I had experience with this already, I agreed, and we both ended planning this.
Experience in this?
Who were these people who could carry out such a plan? Perhaps they had cold blood, or was it just that they had no human feelings at all? Fear now constricted my throat, and my chest hurt in unimaginable quantities.
I couldn't find the sense of all of this. Was this just to see me suffering? Although I sound like a total coward: What had I done to deserve it?
Patrick, seeing what I was going through, smiled again.
I totally loathed that smile.
—However, —he sat down, took his strong arms behind his head and put up his feet on the chair infront of him. He let out a sigh of pleasure—, it's good to be back. I think the last time I was here was with you. —His eyes scanned the cabin.
With me? What do you mean?
A sudden twinge of pain struck my head, those that leave the ghost of excruciating pain. I felt my arms heavier than before.
—What... are you... talking aboout? —I whispered back, trying to stay conscious until I got a n answer.
Patrick laughed. —I knew the time when you'd ask that would eventually come. —He accommodated himself on the chair and began to speak again. He looked me in the eye and a chill went down my back—. We both know that you feel strange here. As if you had been here before.
The strange thing was that he was absolutely right. And I needed and explanation of what the hell was really going on once and for all.
I could not answer.
—The truth is, it's not the first time you're here. —Patrick said. I began to tremble—. I think I was here with you last summer.
How was that possible? I had known him for a little less than a year, just when I met Roxanne. I clearly didn't know who he was last summer. And being so, I am very sure I would remember.
—What...? How?
—Do you really want the full story, princess? —Something told me I should have refused, but I let him continue. Because of my lack of response, Patrick managed to speak again—. I have this... wish inside of me. The constant need to feel I have control over certain situations. I like to feel I'm in charge. So I appealed to a method that is capable of completely satisfy me.
»It started when I was about 18. I began to feel pleasure in power and when I found myself with sexual cravings, I forced someone to have sex with me. That was the moment when I knew that nothing would be the same for me. So, eventually, it became a habit.
How do you react? How to find the will to get away as soon as possible? How do you know that the sweet guy who once had seemed perfect was nothing more nor less than a rapist? What to do, when he was inches away from me, his skin touching mine?
What to do?
—Last year, I was craving it, so I texted my friend, I'm sure you know him, Brad Montgomery, because I needed him to tell me about someone who could be my new partner and he, well, sent me pictures of you.
I could not move my hands or my feet or my lips. Nothing.
First, remembering Brad—the model with whom I had had my first photoshoot with and who I dated for a while—was enough. Memories took me to the past and wouldn't let me escape.
I didn't like where the story was heading to.
—When I saw you, I knew I had to have you. I had to find a way to take hold of you. So I traveled to New York, and Brad told me where you lived, so I waited outside, and one night when I caught you out, I took you... And I brought you here. It's a shame you don't remember anything. We had an excellent time.
Patrick took a step toward me. I couldn't breathe. I felt the oxide taste releasing in my mouth from the blood pouring in for biting my lip so hard, trying to somehow stop the tears that soaked my face.
—You may be wondering how you can't remember anything. —He smiled again—. You see, it would be a problem for me that really you did, because you'd go and tell the things I've been doing. So I administered you a dose of my favorite drug and probably the best creation of man so far, Flunitrazepam, or better known as Roofies. Its effects are so amazing: it causes anterograde amnesia, so you can't remember any of the events that occur while you're under the influence. Awesome, right?
I can say I've had moments in my life where all I could feel is the acid fear running through my veins. But nothing, nothing compared to that moment. My heart was as fast as it could be and my lungs just couldn't anymore. Muffled sounds came out of my throat, and I just wanted to be anywhere but there. My hands struggled fiercely against the rope, and I could feel my skin opening under the movement.
—With you... With you it was different. —Patrick began again, moving closer and closer to me—. I really enjoyed it. You resisted so much, oh God. Trying to control you was one of the best parts. —He bit her lip—. Other than that, it was more than clear to me that you were still a virgin... I bet you thought that Nathan was your first time... Better think again, Princess. —Patrick laughed—. Anyway, it was one of the best adventures I've had. I'll never forget it.
He pressed his face against mine, taking my face in his hands. —What is it, Princess? Are you afraid? Do you feel bad for not remembering anything? —I felt his lips brushing mine, I tasted bile in my mouth—. I'll give a quick recap: as I already told you, at first you resisted, and screamed a lot. But then, like all the others, you gave up, and calmed down. —I felt him smile—. Oh Ashley, I fucked you so hard. And you felt so good...
»Since then, I knew I was not going to be the same. I got transferred to a new university to be close to you. To see everything you did. Being friends with your friends to get me close to you. I took the same classes as you. I tried to never take my eyes off you. I followed you wherever I could. Everything told me that I had to do it again with you. It was almost impossible to control myself and it took all my disposal to keep a safe distance from your tiny body, your so provocative smell...
»But now, knowing that you are with Nathan, it's all much more interesting, seeing that the facts would have more profound consequences... —He turned away from me, and began to walk towards the window—. Too bad I have given the order not to touch you or do anything to you. It would really be so fun to relive that night.
And as a swirl of memories, everything came into my head suddenly. The memory of that night reproduced as a horror movie in my head, so vivid and clear that I could almost feel myself in the battle against him.
My tension dropped as the sudden events had found their way back to my mind and I felt myself slowly losing control over my own body. I told myself that I had to stay alert. If I blacked out again Patrick would probably try to do things with me.
I heard my own screams of inside of the memory, I felt the powerful arms of Patrick pressuring me. The moving shadows that I now was constantly seeing happend to be me and him. My nightmares turned out to be all real. The tears got more intense and all that came out of my throat was dry air.
It was all his fault.
My constant dizziness, my nightmares, my lack of sleep. All his fault. All were natural reactions of my body telling my brain that it wasn't safe, trying to remind my mind something it had already forgotten. I should have known that my body was just simply trying to alert me that there was something wrong, and that whenever Nathan or any man touched me, it woke the last sensory cells in my body that still knew the truth. It was my body, commanding defenses against external dangers. How to overcome a trauma that I had never actually been there?
—No... —I finally managed to whisper between tears and heavy breathing—. No... No...
Everything hurt. I didn't know what else to do. It was as if all parts of my body were slowly detaching from me, making me agonize till I passed out. But most of all, it hurt emotionally: knowing that the last year of my life had been built over a lie. It was as if life itself was torn apart from you, leaving you with nothing, clearly; a pain that hurt you directly from the center of your own body, except that you didn't knowing exactly where it came from.
I lost myself. I lost him.
Everything I'd ever had, I lost it. Completely.