Romans & histoires Lock Me Up, But Not My Heart

my heart, actually, keeps telling me: but its more than that there's another reason why I stay up late thinking about him why I smile when he smiles why I cry when he cries why his happiness makes me happy my heart knows the reason but my mind refuses to accept it to protect my heart because my mind is conditioned; hardwired; programmed to believe that someone like him can't possibly feel the same for someone like me.

She gritted her teeth and cursed herself internally for not having put on a privacy screen protector. Bracing herself, she tapped the voice message and held it to her ear, thinking it would play through the earpiece. However, as soon as she tapped it, Nathan's warm, soothing voice came through the phone's speaker. Panicking, she fumbled to turn it off, but Jonathan snatched the phone from her hand.

It was sharp and unbearable. I didn't know how much time had passed before Jacob finally stepped into the ward and saw me sitting up. "Grace, you're awake. What do you want to eat? I can have the chef make something and send it over." I thought he would feel some guilt after learning what I went through, but he acted like nothing had happened. That was when I broke. "Enough!" "Jacob, wasn't locking me in the basement supposed to teach me obedience? Well, I've learned. I've stopped hoping for your love, so why won't you just let me go?"

He swallowed back the curse words that were about to spill from his mouth. Rubbing his sore backside, he ran toward the balcony—just like in my past life—and hid behind the washing machine. Once he was completely out of sight, I walked over, shut the glass door, and locked it. The moment Archie heard the click of the lock, he bolted out from behind the washing machine. He stared at the door, confused. A five-year-old couldn't hide his emotions. His face practically screamed, "How did you think to lock the door first?"

What if he’s decided that I don’t deserve to raise my own son, that I don’t even deserve a goodbye? And just like that, panic takes over. I scramble for my clothes, not even caring what I throw on, what it looks like, if it's inside out, if it makes sense. I just moved. I just ran down the stairs. With my Heart in my throat and Terror in every step. Straight for the front door. My hand slams onto the knob, cold and stiff, and I twist it. Nothing. It won’t turn. It's Locked. My heart jumps. He’s locked me in?

Of course, only a person who once loved you knew exactly where to stab to hurt you the most. I could not even summon anger anymore. It felt like disappointment had hollowed me out completely. My heart felt empty. What I hated most was my own helplessness. “There’s no need to make such a spectacle, Mr. Stone. “It’s just a few words. Don’t disturb my mother’s peace.” I handed the tablet back to him. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and demanded, “Why aren’t you wearing the engagement ring I gave you?”

My heart hammered against my ribcage. “No pills.” His jaw muscles worked. “Don’t try to run. I’ll find you now that I have your scent.” With one last sweeping gaze down my body, he exited, pulling the door closed behind him. I rushed forward and slammed my fist on the wood. When I tried the handle, it was locked. No surprise there. Fucking asshole! I’d never been without my pills. What if I weakened and slowly succumbed to death? Were they trying to torture me? Panic and rage tightened my chest. I breathed through the dizziness.

He’s paid ten million dollars for me, surely, it’s me that will have to offer him something. I curl my hand into a fist; anger and sadness festering like a cancer deep in my gut. I have to get out of here. Going to the door that I know is my only exit, I grab the brass knob, not caring that it’s most likely a dead end. I heard the lock click into place. There might not be any escaping this room right now, but that isn’t going to stop me from trying.

“Miss, what’s your name? Do you have someone you know here?” It is not good to take advantage of those weak and not in their right mind but the girl seems like she’s in pain. He tried talking to her but it seems she can’t hear him. He had no idea the person was already naked, so he can see what she was wearing on the inside. “Hey! Get a hold of yourself!” he almost shouted, he’s getting affected by her pheromones. His rut— this is dangerous!

My expression remained impassive as I looked at the milk cartons that Hannah was holding. I could tell at a glance that they were the discounted ones that were close to their expiry dates from the grocery store downstairs. The sales assistants were constantly trying to sell them off whenever I passed by the store. I unlocked my apartment door and placed my groceries on the cabinet. At the same time, I shoved my foot against the door and prevented Hannah and Thomas from entering. "You have something to say to me, don't you? Out with it."