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Two
days of sweet, that’s all I got. 

‘You’re
coming to work with me today,’ Luke informed me at breakfast.

‘Okay,’
my heart sank.

I
had been
allowed to stay home yesterday, but it was
Kane’s day off, so he left Bruce with me, one of his many suits.  Bruce
was a redhead with a face that never cracked a hint of a smile, and I mean
never.  After asking me whether I needed anything, he disappeared down the
hall. 

I had
lay on the sofa in the library and slept the majority of the day away in
jogging bottoms and a long sleeve t-shirt, as the weather was changing.  I
also hoped with all my heart that Luke’s good mood was here to stay.

I
was naïve.

When
Luke arrived home later that evening, he was majorly pissed. But, for once, he doesn’t
take it out on me. Instead, he locks himself in his office until dinner time. When
he finally came to me in our bed, he fucked me hard, but not ruthlessly.

 The
following day, we are eating breakfast when Luke snaps at me.

‘Dress
up,’ he orders. ‘I’m fed up with you dossing around the place like a student,’
getting up he leaves the dining room without a backward glance.  He’s in an
atrocious mood.

I
leave my breakfast and decide to make an extra effort to my appearance, the
peace of the past few days had made my existence tolerable, I couldn’t take for
us to revert to the aggressiveness of beforehand.  I was eager to please.

When
I arrive in the hall, Luke is waiting, his gaze approvingly strokes over me. I
dressed in one of his favourites, a green bodycon dress that I know emphasizes
my eyes. His cold gaze softens as he grasps my hand and moves us to the
awaiting car.  My relief is instant.

********

I
stand in my usual position by the window. 

Whichever
office we visited, I took the opportunity to stand and look out at the sights
provided.  My body tenses at the sound of a gunshot, knowing this doesn’t
bode well for my upcoming drugs deal fuck.

Luke,
himself, had put a bullet in the back of a guy’s head as if he does it every
day.  He doesn’t, he usually gets one of his baboons to do the hurting,
keeping his hands unsoiled. The lifeless body slumps forward, like a sack of
shit, his brain matter splattering against the front section of the desk. 

‘We
need to send out a message,’ Luke is beyond pissed, ‘this is going to happen to
every single dealer if they renege on the contract.  No second chances, no
extensions, they take the merchandise, they pay the fucking price.  I have
had enough of being taken the piss out of, get rid of that.’ He nods to the
lifeless body, ‘discard of it somewhere that will send a message, you hear me?’
He roars.  There is a scurrying of suits before a plastic sheet is laid
down, gloves put on and the body wrapped, then they begin the clean-up of the
remnants of body matter from the area. 

I
stand, observing, feeling disconnected from the situation, the only sign of
stress being the frantic beating of my heart within my chest.

‘Get
over here, Sophie,’ Luke growls, his voice warning that I am going to suffer
the consequences of his bad deal.

Fuck! 
My body trembles.  On this occasion, I can’t contain the shaking.  I have
rooted to the spot.  I watch him glance up at my disobedience.  ‘I
said, get the fuck over here!’ He shouts, the gun still grasped firmly in his
hand. 

I
physically jump at the venom in his tone, and I notice a couple of the suits
eyes me with sympathy.  I will my body to move, but it refuses my
instruction.

He
turns to face me, I sense Kane’s presence and flicker a glance at him.  He
is assessing the situation while helping in the clean-up operation.

Luke
is raging, not only is he mad at me for defying him, but he is mad at me
defying him in front of his suits.  He makes his way towards me, the
menacing look on his face the ugliest thing I have ever seen. 

The
only thought that enters my mind is, this is it, he’s going to kill me.  I
know why this information doesn’t alarm me as it should. It means I am finally going
to be free of the constant abuse.

He
grasps me by the hair and drags me over to the desk, pushing my face down
against the hard surface.  A sound emits from my mouth, similar to that of
an injured animal.   

‘She’s
in shock man!’ Kane argues against his treatment of me. In my head I am
shouting for Kane to stop, he will get himself killed.

‘What
the fuck did you say, you fucking cunt. I’ve been watching you, your eyes all
over my woman,’ Luke accuses. 

I
am whimpering, my body shuddering in fear, when I hear a commotion in the hallway.

‘What
the fuck?’ Luke growls, his attention distracted as the suits scatter outside,
guns at the ready. 

Kane
lifts his gun, but instead of pointing outside the door, he points it directly at
Luke.  Right between the eyes.

‘Let
her go, you, filthy piece of shit!’ Kane roars.

I
feel Luke tense.  ‘What, you want her for yourself?’ he laughs, as if this
idea is hilarious.  ‘You think you could handle a woman like her?’ He
sneers, pulling me up from the desk, ‘she likes it often man, like all day
every day and she likes it hard,’ he laughs.  ‘She’s addicted to my dick,
can’t get enough,’ he continues. 

His
arm wraps around my neck holding me tightly against him.  It’s then that I
realise he is using me as a human shield, his other arm moves up, the gun still
in his grasp as he directs it at my temple.  I relax, finally foreseeing a
way out of this living nightmare, the shaking stops, an inner calm surrounding
me as my eyes find Kane’s.

A
bullet is released from Kane’s gun and whooshes past my head to hit Luke’s
shoulder, the side he is holding the gun.  I hear the bullet tear through
the flesh as a sound omits from between Luke’s lips.  His arm drops, the
gun falling to the floor with a thud.

‘You
will regret that,’ he hisses between his teeth, edging me around the
desk.  ‘Robson!’ He calls, but Robson is evidently busy outside of the
office as more gunshots can be heard flying back and forth. Kane’s gun remains
trained on Luke as he drags me around towards the door.

‘Let
her go, asshole,’ Kane, growls.

‘Fuck
you! She belongs to me.  If I can’t have her, no one will,’ Luke spits,
vehemently.

‘Sophie,’
Kane’s voice drops to a tone that suggests he knows I am barely holding it
together. ‘I need for you to move, honey, can you do that.’  Luke’s arm
tightens to a painful level at Kane’s request.

‘She’s
not going anywhere,’ I can hardly breathe at the force of his arm crooked
around my neck, crushing my windpipe.  I paw at his arm, urging him to
loosen it, he ignores me.

I
fail to distinguish the next gunshot, I am too busy trying to fight for oxygen,
but I feel the flinch of Luke’s body as it hits.  His arm remains tight as
he pulls me to the floor with him, blood oozing out onto my green dress. 

‘Sophie!’
I hear Nates voice in the distance, but I am desperately trying to get away
from Luke, jerking his arm away, sobbing as blood seeps through my
clothes.  When I finally manage to disentangle myself from his grasp, I
turn back and stare at him.  The bullet must have killed him on impact,
the gaping bloody hole where his eye used to sit, almost making me vomit. 

‘Soph,
babe,’ Nates voice is closer, but I don’t see him. I only see the bullet hole
in Luke’s face. I jolt when someone gently touches me, ‘I’ve got you, babe,’ he
whispers, I feel something go around my shoulders and realise that my body is
shivering again.

I
hear his voice, but can’t comprehend his words as he guides me outside of the
office to another scene of devastation.  There are numerous suits
scattered around the floor, some with wounds, others with their hands cuffed
behind their backs.  None of this information actually penetrates my brain,
it’s just a sight that hits my eyes. 

It
isn’t until I am downstairs, sitting in an ambulance that I suddenly realise
the implications of the past twenty minutes. 

I
am finally free, free to live my life. 

Then
why am I devastated?

********

‘Stockholm
Syndrome is a recognised condition, which sometimes happens when an individual
is abducted or put into a traumatic situation.  You admitted yourself that
you knew you were facing a scenario that was incredibly precarious.  You
played nice, or you died.’ Dr. Philips explained logically.  ‘You chose to
play nice, regardless of the fact the consequences weren’t very appealing. I’d
say you fought for survival.’

‘But
I love Nate,’ I reply, quietly.  I know this, I may not feel it right now,
but I know deep down inside, I love Nate. 

‘Stockholm
Syndrome can be as debilitating as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, some of the
symptoms almost identical, insomnia, confusion, flashbacks, lack of sex drive.’

‘How
long will it last?’ I ask, disappointed that he can’t just provide me a pill
and be done with it.

‘How
long is a piece of string?’ He shrugs, ‘you were abducted from your nearest and
dearest, and spent almost three months being used purely for sexual gratification
of your capturer. Give yourself time, Sophie, it’s been two weeks.’

‘I
so desperately want to get back to normal, to feel again,’ I admit.

‘There’s
no magic cure here, Sophie,’ his voice is soft, but I am so frustrated with
myself.  How can I miss Luke?  I despised Luke, he stole me from
Nate, robbed us of our dreams for the future.  How can I be sad that he is
no longer on this planet?  He abused me, daily, fleeced me of my dignity
as well as everything else?  It makes no sense.

The
past two weeks have been horrendous. After witnessing the shootings and death
of Lucas Ericson, I have been a complete mess.  After the event, I had
been immediately whisked away in an ambulance, for a check-up at the hospital. 
I was then admitted to the psychiatric wing for further evaluation. I had been
non-responsive, in shock, my mouth unable to form a full sentence. 

I was
sedated, my exhausted body craving rest, and spent the next thirty-six hours
not knowing whether it was night or day. 

When,
eventually, I had woken, Nate had been stationed at my bedside, his hand holding
mine, his face pale and drawn. 

‘Hi,’
I had croaked.

Nate’s
face relaxed, and he edged closer, his lips touching our joined hands.

‘How
are you doing, babe?’ He murmured, his sapphire eyes dulled by tiredness.

‘Not
so good, Nate,’ I had whispered.

He
nodded, his eyes closed, pain etching his gorgeous features. ‘I’m so sorry this
happened to you, Sophie,’ he murmured, softly.

I
had gazed at his haunted, tortured face; he looked exhausted.  ‘You never
gave up,’ I marvel.  He shakes his head obstinately, his lips again moving
to kiss across my knuckles.

‘Go
home, Nate,’ I instruct. 

His
eyes flinch at my words. ‘What?’

‘I
am damaged,’ my voice is empty, void of emotion.  ‘You deserve someone
that can give themselves to you, all of them.  I don’t know how, or if I
will ever, recover from this,’ I confess. 

‘I
can handle it,’ Nate insists.  ‘I haven’t waited three months for you, to
walk away now, Sophie,’ his voice holds a strength.

‘I
don’t know if I am capable of giving you anything, right now, Nate,’ a silent
tear rolls down my cheek, but there is no emotion attached to it, just fact. 

His
thumb had wiped it away, his face close.  ‘Then I’ll wait even longer. I
happen to believe you are worth the wait, London.  I am here, waiting patiently
for you to heal, for us to return to where we were.  No woman has ever
made me feel the way you do. Your boxes are staying in our loft until you come
home to me.  You promised us a life. We have a life to rebuild.’

‘Nate!’
I had called, sad for his grief. ‘I haven’t the strength to worry about you
too, I have to focus on getting back to me,’ I whisper.

‘No!’
the stubbornness was evident in his tone, ‘I am going nowhere.’

‘You
have to let me go,’ I murmured sleepily.

‘Never!’
He had growled, his jaw tightening.

‘This,’
I roll my eyes to my surroundings, ‘is all you will see when you look at me,’ I
insist.  ‘I am broken so badly, Nate.’ 

‘We
can fix you, we need time that is all,’ he announces.

I
know deep in my heart that isn’t true.  This isn’t a car accident where
the broken bones can be fixed, this is deep routed destruction.  If Nate
thought I was damaged before, nothing could prepare him for the depth of the
fuckedupness now.

‘Nate,
if you love me you have to let me go,’ my eyes flicker.  The last thing I
remember is the pain apparent in the entrancing blue eyes of the man I gave my
life for.

When
I woke, Nate was gone. 

I was
ignorant to whether he was gone for good, taking me at my word, or whether he
was providing me the desired space to heal.  What I did know was that
nothing was ever going to be the same again.

He
never returned.

********

Surprisingly,
it was my dad that came to my aid in the end.  Nate had been conversing
with him, updating him with any information he and his brother, Kyle had
learned.  When I had been found, my father had arranged and funded a
rehabilitation centre for me to stay in Boston.  He had waited until the
doctors notified him I was well enough before he sent Kris to escort me on the
flight over. 

Kris
was quiet and unobtrusive, and I felt relatively safe in his company, although
I still found I was constantly looking over my shoulder.  It’s incredible
how after only a few months of dominance, I struggled to make the smallest of
decisions. When faced with a choice, I would glance around to check with
someone, anyone, as to whether my verdict was acceptable. 

I
hadn’t made a decision for myself in three months, apart from the one that
resulted in the love of my life to walk from my life and never come back.

I
didn’t want Nate to leave, I didn’t want to send him away, but I wasn’t the
person he fell in love with and didn’t know if I could ever be that person. 
I was a far reach from the Sophie Parker who rocked up to Krystal determined to
find her brother’s murderer.  My brother and his drug issues were the
farthest things from my mind.  I hated that he had caused me all this
pain. I hated that his death encouraged me to visit his hometown and fall in
love with the sapphire blue eyed man that I had no doubt I have crushed with my
rejection.

My
father’s car had collected us from the airport and drove us to the rehab
centre, which was the equivalent of a five-star hotel, nothing like I had first
imagined.  I had a suite, which also had a panic button installed in every
corner, the only sign that it was a medical establishment.  My dad had
sent everything I needed, included a new wardrobe of clothes, as I had no
intention of ever wearing any of the things that had been brought from Luke’s
mansion, plus all the toiletries a woman could possibly need.  I hadn’t
spoken to him, we conversed only through others whether it be the therapist in
Denver, or now Kris, who informed him of our safe arrival. 

Kane
had been granted immunity, down to his compliance with the authorities at the
time of my recapture, and was now working with Nate’s brother forming a
business of PI security work.  Initially, I had assumed it was Kane who
delivered the final shot to Luke, it was, in fact, Nate, who appeared at the
doorway as Luke’s hand was directing his held gun towards my temple.  He
saved me and in the process killed the man who was abusing me. 

I
still struggle to come to terms with the fact that they call it abused when I
had experienced an orgasm, sometimes several, during the sexual exploits we
shared.  But, apparently, it is common, the body is a complex machine,
push the right buttons and it will react how it is intended.  Besides, I
had been aware that failure to climax would have meant longer and more
torturous behaviour.  Luke would have become more and more brutal until I
came, hard, this I know.  I still have the scars to prove it.

Here
I am now, at my first counselling session.  Dr. Philips is incredibly
calm, not in the least bit astounded by the information I have shared with
him.  I find myself confiding more and more shocking incidents with him
with the pure intention of causing a reaction, but he merely nods and scribbles
notes down on his notebook totally unfazed.

‘Contrary
to what you believe, you are doing remarkably well, Sophie,’ Dr. Philips,
stated earnestly.

‘Then
why isn’t everything slotting into place?’ I question, frustrated.

‘Because
to leave it behind, we have first to address the issues, comprehend them and
then lay them to rest.  It’s going to be a painful process, but we will
get through it,’ Dr. philips promises me.

As
I gaze at the serious, slightly crinkled face of the man beside me it’s hard to
believe that I will ever feel any different than I currently do, but I know I
have no choice but to take him at his word.

********

Three months later

Walking
into my flat after being away for a total of eight months, it was hard to grasp
the fact that the recent dramas had actually occurred.  After three months
of intense therapy, I had woken abruptly yesterday morning and decided to
discharge myself from rehab.  Although I had faced the challenges of my
recovery head on, I felt as if I could no longer benefit from the therapy
provided.  This, then begged the question of why I remained in Boston with
a father I despised and a country that had brought me nothing but misery?

I
had informed no one of my departure, my father had released Kris from his body
guarding duties once I was established in rehab, so I simply picked up my
belongings, bought a one-way ticket and left for home. 

I
had heard nothing from Nate since I ordered him to forget me at the hospital
three months ago.  Not that I should have expected to, I brought him
nothing but pain and heartbreak, I know this. However, this didn’t prevent me
from thinking of him every single day wishing things had ended differently.

Half
of me hoped that he had found his forever with someone worthy of his love, the
other hoped to God that he couldn’t replace me.  I was being selfish, but
the heart feels what the heart feels, as they say. 

After
not having felt anything for months, I awoke two days ago with an intense ache
deep in the left side of my chest.  I felt as if I was going to die as I
gasped frantically for breath, Dr Philips had explained that what I was
experiencing was a panic attack.  This, in his mind, was a good thing as
it signified my body returning to the here and now rather than living in the
fear of the past.  To me, it was more painful than anything I had ever
experienced, and I had felt a lot of pain. 

I suffered
the desperate loss of a conceivable future with the only man I would ever love.

It
was at that point that I boarded the plane to Heathrow, to escape the
temptation of locating Nate and begging him to take me back.  I couldn’t
do that to him, the baggage I had acquired I wouldn’t enforce on any human
being, especially someone I loved so fiercely. 

I
ensured that I had a full script for the anti-depressants I required, thanked
Dr. Philips for his time and left in the clothes I stood in.   I had
money in the bank from the salon in London, that I hadn’t touched in almost six
months, I would purchase a new wardrobe when I arrived home.

Although
the estate agent had in fact sold my property, the potential purchasers had
bailed out of the deal when no one could locate me to sign the relevant
paperwork.  Therefore, it looked precisely as it had all those months ago
when I had excitedly left it behind eager to commence my new life with Nate in
Denver.

 I
glance around at the bare rooms, the majority of the furniture remained, but
all of my personal items were currently in Nate’s loft.  Or were, what he
has decided to do with them since I expelled him from my life is anyone’s
guess.  Thankfully, I had decided to keep the furniture in situ, until
such time that I exchanged on the property, believing a lived in house looked
more appealing than an empty shell. 

I
stripped the sheets off of the bed and throw them in the washing machine,
grateful that I had a few cleaning products stashed under the sink until such
time as I could replenish the supplies, cleaned the bathroom and turned on my
mobile phone. 

‘I
can’t breathe, Shauna,’ my voice muffles as it presses against the jumper of my
best friend. 

‘I
can’t believe you are here,’ she calls, the emotion in her voice
tangible. 

‘Well,
believe it,’ I squeeze her once more before I release her. 

‘I’m
so sorry that I couldn’t come to see you in Boston,’ Shauna sighs.  ‘The
arsehole wouldn’t allow it, who the hell does he think he is?’ she rants.

‘What?’
I am confused by the tone that Shauna is taking, ‘are you talking about Matt?’
I frown, she never talks about her husband in that manner.