Her CEO Stalker and Her Second Chance Mate Chapter 8

Adelaide

Four knocks sounded. I stood and moved cautiously to the door before peering out the peephole. The frame was right but I couldn’t see his features. “It’s me,” he whispered, against the door. Thank the universe for that. I unlocked the door, opening it to allow him passage inside.

Beck walked in, loaded down with three take-out containers balanced in one hand and the container of ice in the other.

“What was the point in me buying snacks when you were intent on getting real food?” My mouth salivated, but my stomach protested.

“You need to eat more then just jerky, real food is important to help you heal faster, and you need to rest.” he gruffed at me. I picked up my cigarette and took a puff. “That shit’s bad for you,” he grumbled.

“Well, it’s been a hell of a week,” I deadpanned. He grunted, but didn't comment further on my chosen form of self-harm for the moment. He just sat across from me and pushed one of the containers over to me.

“Eat, Honey, you look like you are going to pass out at any moment. I closed the knife easily with one hand and set it on the table next to the ashtray. His eyes watched the fluid movements.

“Listen, Addy,” he started. I froze. Only he called me that. I felt paralyzed again, as my mind tunneled down into the memory of panic; the feel of his hands on my skin, the repulsion that had burned from the inside out, and his wide eyes in the elevator. What had spooked him as he glared at me in vehemence before he snapped, I’d never know.

“Adelaide!”

I pulled out of it, my heart racing, my eyes darting around. I was safe, it was a memory. I breathed in and out to steady myself. Suddenly, it was too hot. I stood up, taking a few steps away to compose myself. The heat was too much, so I pulled off my hoodie. Beck’s inward gasp was telling. As my cropped shirt rode up my back, I winced, suppressing tears at the pain in my ribs from the movement.

“I thought he just fucked with your face. Who is this asshole?” Beck demanded, with a growl to his tone, the chair sliding back as he stood up and made his way to me. His hot breath sent shivers through me as it ghosted over my shoulder. I felt the rage within him, an ominous force at my back. Tears welled in my eyes, I stifled them back.

“A rich boy who thought anything he wanted belonged to him. I’m nobody’s property, though,” I affirmed.

“You will give me a name,” Beck insisted. 

“I will, but not yet,” he let out a disapproving sound. Was that a growl? He dragged me back to the table. I sat obediently for my savior. He had earned my trust and my respect in such a short time, even after what I had been through. He popped open the takeaway box. A delicious burger faced me, and my stomach, being the bitch that she was, growled. He was right. I needed to get my strength up and try to sleep. Tomorrow was another day.

I grabbed the burger and bit down, it tasted so good, but my body begged to recoil from the food. His eyes stared back into mine as I slowly chewed. “The only way to beat this is head-on, Honey. Never let him win. I’ve seen women in similar situations before, it’s either you fight and force yourself to strive forward, or you end up right back where you started. Only, you’ll be weakened and he will have all the power, and if he doesn’t get ahold of you, you’ll waste away like a phantom.” He pointed to the burger. “You have to decide which version you are, Adelaide; the fighter, his toy, or the Phantom. It's up to you,” he said, biting into his own burger, and wiping the mustard off his face with the back of his hand. He stared at me waiting for me to choose.

I stared at the food, internalizing my emotions, attempting to try to analyze myself. Underneath it all, there was a morbid layer of depression, amid near crippling fear and anxiety I had never borne before, but there was also a livid rage and fierce determination that overshadowed it all. I had to hold onto that to get through the rest. I took another bite of the burger. It had layers, too. I could do this. Before long, the burgers were in our bellies and Beck reached for the other container revealing loaded fries. We each took a chunk of cheese and bacon-covered goodness.

“To new beginnings,” I said, holding my fries out to him. He chuckled and toasted me with his, before we tossed them down the hatch.

“I knew you were a fighter,” he said, grabbing another handful of fries, saluting me with it, before devouring it. I couldn’t help but smile. His gaze softened.

“I hope your new life brings you more of that,” I nodded, in agreement. My body had been broken, used, and taken without my permission, but I wouldn’t allow my spirit to fall with it. I would get some rest and my body would eventually heal…in time. I may have to say goodbye to my big dreams, but who's to say closing that door wouldn’t bring about new ones to open up for me? So we gorged out on loaded fries, and I discovered my savior possessed an immense sweet tooth, as I watched him inhale two packs of Ho-Hos and half a bag of sour gummies, while I nibbled on jerky and patted my full stomach. Then he pulled out the tub of icecream and handed me a spoon as he flipped on the TV to some comedy show.

When we hit the bottom of the tub, I thought I would surely spew if I took another bite. Beck slid a few packages of Ibuprofen across the table. He must have got them from a vending machine somewhere around the motel. Or maybe he snuck into the women’s bathroom, where some places still had vending machines for things like Midol and Tylenol. “Take these and get some rest,” he instructed, heading off to the bathroom with his bag. I took the pills and a swig of water. I shimmied out of my pants and boots before I slipped into the bed farthest from the door, thankful the sheets were scratchy and not smooth like his. I never wanted to feel silk sheets again.

The nightmare disrupted my sleep, violently reliving memories of my time in that bed of nightmares, too vividly; my body, too inhibited by the drugs to fight, my voice muted, his touch, unwelcomed, but from which I was unable to recoil from. However, in my dreams, my mind is always awake, eyes seeing, skin feeling. Every fiber of me was in protest of the violation. The strangled cry captured in my throat escaped, a warm hand on my shoulder, startling me from reliving the torment, and shocking me back to my present reality. My eyes opened to the darkness around me, but Beck’s eyes stared back, glowing strangely through the shadows of the night.

“You're safe now, Honey,” my eyes closed, and a rogue tear escaped as it traveled down my cheek. I let out a shaky breath. I just wanted it all to go away. My eyes opened and Beck still watched me with sad eyes. Unable to endure his pity, I pushed the covers back and grabbed my pants off the floor, making my way to the bathroom. I scrubbed my face, exposing the damage, the artful makeup no longer concealing it. I pulled on my jeans. I’d fight this battle until my last breath. I decided to pull out my cosmetic bag. My concealer became my war paint. I anointed myself with a camouflage of dark shadow and flush of blush and contour to distract from what lay beneath, each brushstroke a vow and promise to myself that I would get through this, stronger than before.

When I walked out, Beck was dressed, the faint light of morning slipping through the cracks of the heavy curtains of the window he was peering out. I held my chin high as he looked over his shoulder and nodded. Today we would ride together. Tomorrow, I will start a new journey, whatever that happens to be.