HUNTER AND PREY

~Kelsey~

“I hate repeating myself.”

His voice was oddly smooth, effortless, he didn't sound like a criminal holding me hostage in my own bathroom, like he wasn’t the reason my entire body trembled with fear.

I wanted to speak, to scream, to beg, but nothing came out of my mouth.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I silently sobbed. I felt extremely vulnerable, like every part of me had been exposed to this stranger.

He stared at me for a few seconds, his expression blank yet scary.

Then, without another word, he turned and unlocked the bathroom door.

“You have two minutes to cover up and meet me in your bedroom,” he said, his voice calm yet commanding.

I couldn't bring myself to move. I just sat there and watched him walk into the bedroom.

The air was thick with humidity, my wet skin was pricking with cold as I sat in the freezing bath, my heart pounding against my ribs.

I can’t do this. I can’t go out there.

I sucked in a shaky breath, my fingers digging into the porcelain tub.

But if I didn't move, he was crazy enough to come in here and pull me out of the tub.

The thought of it made my skin crawl.

There was only one way out. It was stupid but if I was careful and smart enough, it just might work.

With trembling limbs, I climbed out of the tub, water dripping onto the floor and forming a puddle beneath my feet.

I didn’t bother drying off, I didn’t have time. I yanked on a robe, cinching it tight around my waist, and crept toward the door.

My room was filled with the scent of tobacco and strong male cologne.

He was exactly where I expected, perched on the chair nearest to the window, a cigar in one hand, his other resting lazily on the armrest. His attention was fixed on his phone, the dim light illuminating the sharp cut of his perfectly sculpted jaw.

This was my only shot.

Without thinking, I bolted to the door.

I raced down the hallway, my bare feet slapping against the cold floor. My robe billowed behind me and water from my wet hair dripped all over the floor, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back.

He didn't spare a second before coming after me.

His boots thudded loudly as he chased me down the hall.

I ran faster, pushing my body to the very limit.

My lungs burned. My pulse roared in my ears but I wouldn't stop until I was far away from him.

I hit the stairway and rushed down without thinking, my steps reckless, my body desperate to escape.

But I wasn’t fast enough.

His height gave him the advantage, he was closing in on me each passing second.

I could hear him right behind me.

I pushed harder, skipping steps, launching myself down each landing.

Then I heard a sharp crack from the floor board.

My foot was stuck. A jagged piece of broken floorboard hooked around my ankle, twisting it at an unnatural angle.

I screamed in pain as my body went crashing down several flights of stairs.

Pain exploded through my body.

My head smacked against the railing, my shoulder slammed into the hardwood, and my ankle was completely dislocated.

Pain ripped through my leg as I crumpled at the base of the stairs, my body a tangled mess of bumps and bruises.

I couldn’t breathe.

Sharp hot pain engulfed my ankle.

A ragged, broken scream tore from my throat as I tried to push it back into place.

I clutched my leg, my chest rising and falling in frantic gasps.

I looked up just in time to see him appear at the top of the stairs, his body frozen mid-step.

His chest rose and fell, his expression unreadable. He looked a bit shocked but quickly masked his emotion behind his mask of indifference.

His gaze locked onto my twisted ankle, then flicked to my tear-streaked face.

"Please," I choked out a sob, my hands shaking violently as I tried to push myself up, but my leg gave out instantly.

He didn’t move.

He just stood there, staring at me.

Like he hadn’t planned for this. Like this wasn’t how the game was supposed to go.

I gasped, another wave of pain searing through my nerves.

After what seemed like eternity, he started down the stairs.

His steps were slow, precise and calculated like a predator closing in on its wounded prey.

I scrambled back, dragging my body away from him, but my useless leg made it impossible. I was trapped.

He reached the bottom step, paused briefly and then crouched in front of me.

I could see the shadow of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Tsk, tsk, Kelsey,” he murmured, reaching out.

His fingers brushed against my swollen ankle and I screamed.

He grinned. “This is why you should never run from me.”

"Please just let me go," I cried as I shifted away from him.

"Never," he spat before grabbing my injured leg and pulling me towards him.

In one swift motion, he had me over his shoulder. Despite my weak attempts at protesting, he carried me effortlessly up the stairs and back to my bedroom.

My heart hammered in my chest. This was it. My dumb brain had landed me in more trouble.

I was completely at his mercy and this might be the night I finally pay for my sins.

He lowered me unto my bed and I quickly pulled the covers over my body.

He narrowed his eyes and yanked it away immediately.

"Are you going to kill me?" I croaked, my voice cracked from crying and screaming.

He looked up at me, his dark grey eyes focused on mine like he was trying to see my soul.

Without warning, he grabbed my dislocated ankle and twisted it back into place.

I screamed in pain as my ankle made a loud cracking sound before finally returning to its usual position.

I sucked in air as wave after wave of pain crashed through my body.

My body shook violently and I feared I might pass out.

My stalker watched me with his usual expressionless face. He wasn't fazed by my tears and screaming.

What an awfully cruel man.

Without uttering even the least bit of sympathy, he straightened his coat and headed out the door.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I screamed after him.

He was going to leave me here to suffer. I couldn't walk and I didn’t have the money for an ambulance or outrageous medical bills.

I was stuck, all alone with a broken leg and no one to call for help.

It didn't take too long for the door to creak open. He had not left.

My stalker walked in with a bag of ice and a bottle of water.

He handed me the bottle of water and headed to my dresser where he pulled out my bottle of advil and tossed it at me.

How did he know where it was?

The thought of him watching me with hidden cameras made my skin crawl, it also made me curious to know how much he had seen.

He emptied half of the bag of ice into my discarded t-shirt from earlier and tied it in a very tight knot.

"Why are you helping me?"

He frowned, his eyes moving from the make-shift compress to me.

"The only pain you're permitted to feel is the one I inflict on you," he said flatly before diverting his attention back to the compress.

Knots formed in my stomach. As much as I enjoyed being alive, why didn't he just kill me and put an end to my suffering?

Slowly, my stalker applied the make-shift compress on my throbbing ankle.

I groaned as the cold fabric made contact with my skin.

For several minutes, he remained seated beside me, observing and nurturing my ankle like it was the most important thing ever.

His sudden shift from murderous creepy man to some kind of caring and protective saviour made no sense to me.

If he wanted me dead, why did he care?

His eyes shifted from my ankle to my face. His eyes remained fixed on me like he was waiting for me to say something or run again.

The sudden tension in the room was suffocating and for some reason, I liked it.

My heart hammered in my chest as I watched him grab a small piece of ice with his free hand.

I watched wide-eyed as he slowly caressed my ankle with the piece of ice.

My throat became dry and I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat.

My brian screamed at me to run, to kick him away, but I didn't.

His fingers strayed from my ankle, tracing slow circles towards my calf.

My senses were completely blinded by fear and a hint of frustration and what I think was pleasure.

His fingers paused at the hem of my bath robe. He hesitated for a few seconds like he was waiting for me to rebel or scream at him.

When I didn't, he traced further upwards until his fingers were fully exploring my inner thigh.

My lips parted slightly, a moan threatening to escape.

Then, he quickly pulled away.

He looked up at me with a mix of amusement and disgust plastered on his face.

"I can smell your arousal from here, filthy whore."