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Riddled Nightmares

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Helen could still feel the drugs working in her system. She hadn't meant to take that much of the cocaine, but apparently she'd had more than she thought. Blinking her eyes open she could make out a fuzzy figure lying naked next to her. John. Sighing she tried to move, but her stomach began to roil angrily and threatened to toss up whatever was left. She couldn't even make a noise in her throat to try and wake him because the cottony feeling was too pervasive.

She drew in deep breaths and waited patiently until she thought she could try to move again. Helen turned her head first to see if the room had stopped spinning and maybe was a little less fuzzy. Luckily it was. She tried to roll her body and made it halfway into the turn before she bounced back, her bottom flat against the pad covering the ropes on the bed. Her arms were raised above her head and when she attempted to move them down she couldn't. Feeling with fingers she stubbornly found leather wrapped tightly around her wrists, so tight there was no way she could extricate herself. What the hell?

Looking at the man again her stomach began to turn with vile. What had happened? She turned in the other direction to try and get a better look at John, but as soon as she put the pressure on her hip she cried out in pain. Immediately she returned to her back and looked down. Even through the bleary vision she could see the cut and dried blood covering her skin. Her head was beginning to hurt. Why couldn't she remember? She hadn't honestly overdone it that much had she?

Licking her lips and swallowing as much saliva as possible to try and remove the cotton ball she voiced his name, "John." She swallowed harshly again and her body racked with the motion and she felt the stinging over her breasts and abdomen then. She was scared to glance down, but she could resist, she needed to know. Her entire body was covered in cuts and bruises and dried blood. "God, John!" She was loud enough this time that he stirred slightly.

The tear started to pour silently over her cheeks and she couldn't help but let them fall. "John," her voice broke and he finally lifted his head, his eyes staring at her hard as stone. "John?" Her eyes were wide in fear when the knife glittered in front of her face and she felt the warm metal on her throat.

"Shut it, whore."


Helen sat straight up in her bed, her nightshirt soaked through with sweat and her body shook when she drew in deep breaths attempting to calm her rapid heartbeat. She had to get out of the bed, she couldn't sit there. Struggling out of the covers she stood and covered her racing heart with a hand. Dragging the air into her lungs she leaned over the window sill holding her body up with her other hand. What the hell had that been?

She stood up straight when she felt she could and looked out the window catching him in the reflection. He was standing tall and stoic behind her, his hand outstretched, his clothes dark and his hair short. She spun on her heel and let out a breath when the room was empty. What was going on with her?