/Samantha/
As his hands proceeded to gently grasp my waist, I couldn't help but feel queasy, and my entire body began to shake. He gave me a smirk and mashed his forehead against mine as he smirked. One of his hands went down to my ass, while the other went around my waist, holding me in place. I whimpered and bit the inside of my mouth so hard that I drew blood just so I would have anything else to worry about other than the hunger that I could see in his eyes.
"Let's simply forget everything that happened in the past and start over. Please?" He spoke in a hushed tone, his lips lightly brushing against mine as he did so. Oh, God, please don't allow him to rape me. I beg you. "Please jailbait? Please give me a second opportunity; I'm sure I can make you happy this time." I felt bile rising in my throat as his hand tightened its grip on my posterior and pulled me in closer to him.
"Ok Blake, fine. We'll start afresh." I knew that if I tried to talk normally, my voice would crack, so I lowered it to a whisper instead.
He laughed and then crushed his lips on mine, which caused me to whimper. I hurriedly turned my head to the side to avoid his stare. I couldn't believe he'd just kissed me after finding out I was married; the thought made me queasy. I had a filthy feeling, but I imagine that it would be nothing compared to how I would feel if I stayed in his bedroom any longer than necessary.
As he continued to press me against the wall with increased force, he almost let out a frustrated snarl. "Kiss me then for f*ck sake,"
I groped around for something to say in the hope that it would change the subject and divert his attention to something else. "Blake, I'm starving now. Do you think it would be possible for us to go down to the basement and prepare something for dinner?" I inquired hastily as he instantly grabbed hold of my chin and pulled my face back around to his.
He let out a sigh and pulled a frustrated face, clearly displeased that I was keeping him waiting. After what seemed like an eternity of staring at me, he broke his silence with a grin in the end. He asked me in a teasing tone, "You're hungry?" Oh my god, he actually does suffer from bipolar disorder!
Quickly nodding my head, "Yes, I was wondering whether we were going to order takeaway. It would be possible for me to go grab one while you chose a movie or DVD for us to watch." I extended a gesture of optimism. Please respond in the affirmative so that I may get the hell out of this house.
He showed a grin, "I'm going to make something to eat; I really enjoy cooking. It's perhaps possible that my culinary prowess will blow your mind." He grasped my hand and then indicated that we should head out the door. Simply the fact that we would be further away from a bed made me smile in gratitude, and I could literally feel some of the strain leaving my body. With any luck, we would be busy in the kitchen for some time preparing food, which would buy the cops some time to arrive.
As soon as we entered the kitchen, he went directly for the refrigerator, while I lingered in the rear while searching feverishly for the door. It was off to the side; could I go over there stealthily and check to see if it was unlocked, or would it completely give me away? Just as I was getting closer to the entrance, he turned around and grinned, which caused me to immediately halt moving forward.
He proposed, while holding up a package of chicken, that he prepare chicken stir fry. "How about that?"
I indicated my agreement with a quick nod and asked, "Yeah, sure, you can cook that?" I inquired with the intention of keeping him talking for as much of the allotted time as possible so that it might be drawn out.
He chuckled and then tossed the ingredients to the side before going to the refrigerator to retrieve some noodles and vegetables. "As I've mentioned before, I'm a decent cook. Because Michelle is so horrible, I do the majority of the cooking in this house." After he had accomplished what he set out to do, he walked over to me and shoved a cutting board and some mushrooms in my direction. "Want to help?" he inquired with a gleeful smile on his face.
I took a deep breath and then nodded; I couldn't believe how nonchalant he was about everything. He was absolutely batshit insane, and I don't believe that sending him to prison would assist him in the least. Because something was clearly wrong with him, he needed to consult with another person and, at the very least, get some kind of medical assistance. Perhaps the way he had lost both of his parents had changed him in ways that no one was aware of at the time.
Perhaps he was suffering from some kind of attachment issue, which would explain why he seemed to grab onto me so rapidly and become so possessive of me so quickly. If he was sick, then this wasn't really his fault; maybe he was a wonderful guy, but he simply couldn't help it because he was unwell. I actually felt a bit sorry for him. If he was sick, then this wasn't really his fault.
As he began chopping the veggies, he gave me a friendly smile and moved closer to me. His side came close enough to brush against mine. I reached for a knife on the block and considered whether or not I should just turn around, pull it out, and demand that he unlock the door or else I'd stab him or anything like that. I had a sense that wouldn't really work though, I wouldn't be able to stab someone, and that would probably be obvious on my face as I spoke the words. I had a feeling that wouldn't really work.
No, I wouldn't deviate from the initial strategy; instead, I'd keep him talking until the police arrived. I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and noticed that it was getting close to five o'clock. I had contacted Henry about fifteen minutes earlier, so I was hoping that we wouldn't have to wait too much longer.
If I acted calm and pretended that everything was fine, there was no question in my mind that he would hurt me if he became enraged. He had never hurt me before, and I don't think he ever will if I just act pleasant and pretend that everything is fine.
I compelled myself to engage in idle chatter with him as he prepared the meal, but I took sure to keep as much distance as possible between us without appearing to be trying to hide my presence. After completing the task of chopping the mushrooms, I moved my knife to the edge of the countertop and draped a dish towel over the top of it to keep it from becoming dirty.
I knew exactly where it was located in case I ever needed it, but I was praying that I wouldn't have to use it. The police were on their way, so that was simply a precautionary measure. The whole idea of inflicting pain on him made me feel queasy; he need medical attention, and there was obviously something wrong with him.
After approximately the same amount of time again, there was a knock at the door. It had been twenty minutes since I had called Henry, so that had to be the police and not him. He had said that the school was a half an hour away from Blake's house, so it was too soon for it to be Henry. I held my breath and flicked my eyes to the clock. It had been twenty minutes since I had called Henry.
Blake furrowed his brow and glanced at me for a couple of seconds before continuing on. "Stay here and monitor the food for me, I'll get the door," the speaker instructed the other person. He indicated the pan that was heating up on the stove with a nod.
I broke into a warm smile "I'm not very skilled in the kitchen, so there's a fair chance I'll mess it up. What do you say if I just open the door?" I mumbled the suggestion as I dashed toward the corridor.
He grabbed my hand and dragged me to a halt, and then he pulled me to him, which caused me to collide roughly against his chest. He spoke in a commanding tone, saying, "Watch the food jailbait, I'll get the door." He shoved me back toward the stove, and I tried my best not to respond, thinking that if I could only hold it together until he left the room, I might be able to escape through the back door. I gave him a little nod, and he grinned as he turned away from the kitchen to go and answer the knock on the door.
As soon as he was out of sight, I made a beeline for the rear door and tried to turn the handle, but the door was locked. I moaned and looked around for the keys until spotting a small key hook just off to the side with a set of keys dangling there. My heart skipped a beat as I snatched them up swiftly and felt a rush of relief.
My hand was shaking as I searched for the key that was most likely to fit the lock. I was able to hear Blake messing around with the lock and chain on the front door, so I knew I needed to move quickly. Just as I was about to settle on a golden key that resembled a door key, I was startled by the sound of a tremendous crash and someone groaning in pain.