Chapter 13

                                    

                                          
Chapter 13
                          
"Please...." I begged, his body pinning me down once again. But not because I tried running and he tackled me. No, he was over me because it was time for us to go to sleep, the worst time of the day for me. His hand held my failing fighting wrist to the bed, keeping it out of the way. He grabbed my other wrist that he planned to cuff. 
                          
"I'm sorry," he breathed above me, looking deeply in my eyes with such sincerity. 
                          
I felt him press the metal of the handcuffs against my wrist again, an invitation to another night of horror. Before he could lock it around my wrist and leave me helpless once again, I thrashed under him, bucking up and trying to get him off of me and get away from what he was holding. 
                          
"No! No, you can't!" I screamed, trying to bend my knee and move it up, wanting to kick him or push him away. His legs over mine wouldn't allow it and he made sure too by pressing more of his body weight over me. He wasn't worried about me being able to physically dominate him, wasn't concerned about my current and pathetic attempt for escape - which was just me moving as much as I could under him. We both knew I wouldn't be able to get out of his reach again this time. I couldn't help it, couldn't keep myself from yelling and trying to fight.
                          
It never hurt this bad before. I knew this was going to be my worst night of the withdrawal. I was shaking since the middle of the afternoon, I couldn't keep any food down, and I was in a constant sweat. But that wasn't including my internal pain. At the worst points today, I was on fire, burning alive within my own skin. With no escape and it left me shrieking in pain. I never, in my life, felt such a pain. Clare's beatings could go under the category of 'kid's play' because this couldn't be described without saying I was sure I was going to die.
                          
Luke tried his hardest all day to keep me distracted. By admitting to me some embarrassing things about him, telling me some dirty jokes, and even resulting in some of the faults he saw in Clare but they were very small faults - he wouldn't dare go against her to the extreme, even if it helped me feel better. I don't think it would have anyway because nothing he said to me helped. Sure, it kept my mind busy for a while, pondering over the jokes he said and reasons for his blush at telling me embarrassing things about him. But always, in the back of my mind and chest, the burn was there. No matter how distracted I was, I could always feel it to some extent.
                          
He didn't leave my room all day. He knew this was an important day and he wouldn't dare keep his gaze off me. It was Clare's day off and he even had her bring up dinner for me and other things like a few fans to keep me cool. That made me smile, surprisingly. It appeared as if she were his bitch for the day. I could at least imagine. He sat in that chair all day, droopy eyes just getting more and more tired and exhausted. The only time he would leave was to go to the bathroom so he had to handcuff me to the headboard for a few minutes. It wasn't long and I knew it. Every time he did it, he said he was sorry and he would be right back - and he was within two minutes, often bringing back a wet rag to help keep me cool as well. But those minutes seemed to stretch on and bring so much fear out of me that by the time he let me out of the cuffs and was back in the room, I either tried running again or threw up into the basket he brought in besides my bed. So just picture how I was feeling now with him trying to handcuff me for the rest of the night. If you think I'm dandy, you can shove it up your ass. Because I wasn't.
                          
"I am very sorry," he said again. He could have finished the job any second and handcuffed my wrist to the bed by now, even as I was thrashing under him. He could. But he didn't yet. He was trying to get me to understand first. A flick of his hand would be all and I would be in hell again, trapped against my bed. But not yet. My eyes watched it, waited for the terrible metal claws to lock me here. "I am going to handcuff you, Albany," he said quietly, his face right above mine in a whisper, his body not giving me a chance to move anymore. "Just get through tonight. This was your worst day of withdrawal and tonight will be your worst night. But by tomorrow and forever after that, it will be easier."