TW!
MENTION OF PAST ABUSE!
and minor smut.
Micheal
Present
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Emma gazed around then. “Uhm... sir?”
“It’s Micheal,” I told her. “You don’t have to call me, sir, Emma.”
“Okay...” she said gently, making my eyes soften, “but, uhm... what do you want?”
“What do you think I want?” I asked her.
She glanced at me nervously. “I don’t know.”
“Men only want one thing,” I told her, “am I wrong?”
She sighed then, gazing down as she sat on my bed. “You’re teasing me.”
I chuckled and sat atop my desk. “You can tell. Good to know.”
She just gazed down and unconsciously rubbed her arm, and I glanced down briefly to find her rubbing a small bruise.
I stood and stepped over to her. “You’re hurt?”
“No,” she said quickly, pushing her arm behind her.
“Don’t lie to me, angelo, let me see.” I sat beside her.
“My name is Emma,” she told me.
I smiled a little. “I know.”
She glanced at me nervously, though I just held my arm out.
After a moment, she hesitantly set her hand on mine.
I glanced down at her arm to find a scatter of bruises pushing all the way up her arm, and I followed them to find them leading up to her chest and down further.
Oh?
“You’re into naughty things with your boyfriend?” I asked her.
She pulled her hand from mine and covered her chest. “No.”
“You’re lying again, angelo.”
She was silent for a moment. “I uhm... I guess.”
I chuckled. “What does that mean?”
“I used to be into it...” she trailed off. “I can’t talk about this.”
I just watched her. “He got cruel, huh?”
She hesitated before nodding.
Yeah, sounded like my brother.
She was silent then.
“Are those bruises everywhere?” I asked her.
She nodded.
“I see,” I replied.
We were silent then, and I watched her for a couple minutes.
“So how long have you been watching me?” I said then.
She sucked in a breath and choked, coughing seconds later.
I only smiled, amused.
She kept coughing, struggling to breathe for a moment before she calmed, and then she just breathed, staring off into space in horror.
I kept smiling. “How long?”
“How did you know?” she choked.
I chuckled. “I have my ways.”
She just glanced at me suspiciously.
“So,” I said then, turning toward her, “I’m going to give you... I don’t know... two minutes? To explain why you’re watching me and why you’re following me, understand?”
She looked down then, silent.
“One minute and fifty seconds,” I told her.
“Please, sir...” she said. “I don’t mean you any harm.”
“Then explain,” I said.
She hesitantly fiddled with her thumbs. “Uhm... uhm....”
“Clock’s ticking,” I told her, smirking.
“You’re hot,” she blurted out.
I paused then, brows arching. “Huh?”
“You’re...” her voice grew quiet, “uhm... hot. I don’t really know... sometimes, I see you take girls home, and I see... what you do to them.”
I kept silent.
“You’re into bad things, too,” she whispered.
My lashes lowered. “You watch?”
She nodded shyly. “Yes, sir.”
“Why?” I said.
I mean, it was weird, but “why” was also a valid question.
“Because...” she scratched her neck, “sometimes... I wish....”
“That they were done to you?” I asked her.
She was silent. “I feel like... it’s all about him, and never... about me. I feel like he hates me and I’m always bad and I’m supposed to make him feel good... and only him.”
My lashes lowered.
Cudos for opening up to me like this.
It was odd, but something told me she knew me better than she wanted to admit.
Emma, stalker girl.
“I feel like I know you,” I said to her then, and she remained quiet. “I feel like I’ve seen you before, Emma. I feel like I just... know you somehow.”
She remained quiet.
I lightly caught her chin and tipped it up. “Answer all questions put to you, Emma. I ask you a question, you answer.”
Her eyes glimmered. “Or what?”
My eyes flashed in anger then, and she remained in place.
Not afraid.
Who was this girl?
“Answer my question, chica,” I said. “Or I put you in your place.”
She breathed for a moment. “I was yours....”
I arched my brow. “What?”
“I was yours,” she said then.
“What are you saying?” I asked her.
She smiled. “You went to my high school, remember? Canyos High School? You were in my Spanish class, and then we... did the thing teens do.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, though she remained in place.
I studied her then; those bright, golden eyes, those long, blonde locks, and that dark brown skin that glistened under the lighting like she was glossy all over.
I blinked then, reality setting in, and I suddenly shot up from the bed and stared down at her in horror. “You’re Mae.”
“Yes, sir,” she leaned down, bowing slightly.
Mae was my high school sweetheart. She was my first girlfriend, and she was my first, and I’d been with her all through high school.
But one day, she vanished, and there were rumors that she died in a car accident or that she killed herself.
But she did die... she... I knew that she died because it was in the announcements.
All this time... no... no...
But she looked like her. She looked exactly like her.
How was she alive?
I remember grieving, and then once I graduated, my father let me take over the mafia, and I used my power to rid of the grieving.
“You’re dead,” I said then, shaking my head. “You were dead.”
“No,” Mae said. “I was... I was taken, sir.”
I remembered now; she always called me sir. Ever since that one night I had her for the first time.
“Who took you?” I questioned her.
Her lashes lowered, and she looked down.
“Is it the same man who has been hurting you?” I questioned. “The same one who gave you all those bruises? He took you from me?”
“Micheal...” she whispered.
“It was, wasn’t it?” I said then, shaking my head. “He hid you from me. He made me think you were dead all this time. No, I won’t allow this. I won’t allow this.”
“Micheal,” she sounded pained.
“You were mine,” I told her. “He had no right.”
“Micheal,” she said, “I have to go home. Please.”
I shot up then. “You think I am going to let you go now? Now that I know he’s been hurting you? He took you? You were mine, Mae! You were MINE.”
She closed her eyes tightly. “Please... he never lets me out. He’s already going to be mad, Micheal. I don’t want him to be mad.”
“You’re not leaving,” I told her. “No, definitely not after this.”
She lowered her head, breathing shakily now.
My eyes softened, and I stepped over to her, kneeling down. “What did he do to you, Mae? What did he do?”
She shook her head. “He’s going to be mad. He gets madder when he doesn’t know that I left. But you took me, he doesn’t care.” She just rocked back and forth, clutching the collar of her shirt, where the bruises on her chest rested. “I don’t want to be punished again.”
“He won’t hurt you again,” I promised. “I won’t let him take you from me ever again.”
She gazed up then, eyes sparkling with tears.
“I can’t...” I said, brows drawing together when I cupped her cheek. “I just can’t....”
She felt the same, too... her skin so soft, her touch so warm.
I just didn’t recognize her... she was so tall now, and so beautiful. Her hair was longer, reaching her back, and her eyes didn’t look so... bright anymore.
She looked like she’d been through everything in the span of a day.
“Micheal...” she whispered sadly. “Micheal, please, stop.”
“You love him now, don’t you?” I asked her. “He... he made you love him.”
“Micheal,” she begged, “Micheal, I can’t do this with you. I can’t... be with you. I’m not the same person I was.”
I let her go then, standing up then.
But something cold spread through me, and I could feel my heart breaking again... although it hurt less grieving her love than her death.
It still hurt, though.
Her death was the reason I’d never love again, after all.
But I had to accept the fact that... she moved on. Maybe not with that asshole, but... she needed to be free of him anyway.
“I know maybe you’ve grown away from me,” I said to her, the words scraping from my mouth, “but I’m still not letting you leave her knowing that he could get his hands on you.”
“Micheal!” she cried.
“No,” I told her, shaking my head, “do not argue with me. You can stay in another room, Mae, but you cannot leave. I can even stay away from you—as far as you want—but you cannot leave. I know you might blame me for many things, for not saving you, for not being there for you. I know we got into that argument before you vanished, and I know that might make you weary of me. That’s fine. Just stay here, Mae. That’s all I ask.”
We did get into an argument, though... a very... stupid argument.
I was angry that she winked at another guy, and we fought over it, but eventually she started crying when she begged me to believe her when she said she wasn’t cheating.
I walked away that night.
And the next day, she vanished...
I blamed myself for her death for the longest time. I was pissed at myself for letting her go before I could apologize.
I told myself I would never love again.
Especially after I found out that she was winking at her friend’s boyfriend because she was trying to encourage him to date her friend—the one that was in a wheelchair—and I knew she tried to explain it to me, but I wouldn’t let her.
“Micheal...” she said again.
“You don’t have to forgive me,” I told her gently, “just stay here, Mae. Please.”
“Micheal, you don’t understand,” she told me.
“No, you don’t understand!” I yelled back, shooting up as she drew back. “He is hurting you, don’t you get that? I can’t let him hurt you, Mae!”
“Miche—”
“Stop,” I said, “don’t argue with me about this.”
“MICHEAL!” she screamed then, making me shoot up. “LISTEN to me!”
I stared at her then, finding her breathing shallow and her eyes angry.
“Why do you think I’ve been watching you?” she said to me, making my lips part. “Why do you think I’ve been following you, huh?”
“Because he told you to?” I said then.
“NO!” she yelled, making me blink. “BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”
The words hit me like a battering ram.
“I’ve loved you then and I love you NOW!” she continued. “I’ve loved you since and I’ve loved you forever!”
Why did everything start beating again? Why did I feel warm again?
“It hurt, Micheal...” she said then, tears in her eyes, “it hurt to watch you with those girls... fucking them. It hurt.”
My soul cracked a little. “Mae.”
“But you thought I was dead,” she continued, making me blink when her expression softened. “I know you well enough to find you hurting yourself, Micheal. I know you well enough to see you’re hurting inside. I know those girls were hookers, Micheal, and you just needed one night—one night.”
“Mae,” I said again, “Mae, I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be,” she told me, eyes soft. “Because you did nothing wrong.”
The crack inside me sealed with her words.
She stood then, brushing off her tattered dress. “Well... I’ll go to that room now.”
“No,” I said then, making her gaze up. “No, not until I can heal you.”
But I was glad that she no longer was insistent on leaving.
“What do you mean?” she asked me.
I rolled up my sleeves. “Go sit on the bed.”
“Micheal,” she argued.
I snapped my gaze back at her. “What did I just ask you?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes, stepping over and settling on the bed.
“And don’t give me the attitude,” I told her, making her gaze up in boredom. “You won’t like how pissed I get.”
She smiled from the corner of my eyes; I saw it.
This girl was going to be the death of me.
I just caught some ointment on my desk and stepped over to her. “Alright, show me all the bruises.”
“Show me all the bruises,” she mocked. “Blegh, blegh.”
“You’re testing my patience,” I reminded her.
“I miss doing that,” she mused.
I just pushed her down on the bed, making her stifle a giggle.
God, could she not?
I just lifted her dress, making her set her hands by the sides of her head.
“Excuse me, sir?” she said then. “That is harassment.”
I gave her an amused look. “Do I look like I’m in the mood right now, Mae?”
“Yes,” she replied honestly.
I rolled my eyes and went back down to lifting her shirt so I could see her stomach.
“Back to teasing me the moment I realize it’s you,” I said, shaking my head. “Good to know you haven’t changed.”
I finished lifting her shirt, stomach churning when I noticed the bruises burning all over her skin and vanishing under her leggings.
“Quel figilo di puttana,” I growled.
That mother fucker.
I just sighed and spread the ointment on my hand.
It wasn’t really a... healing ointment, per say. It was a pain-relieving cream.
I knew she was in pain. She couldn’t hide that from me.
I just rubbed it on her bruises, hearing her gasp and whimper as she struggled against me.
“I know, il mio bambino,” I whispered. “Hold on a little longer, sí?”
“Okay,” she whispered quietly.
I continued spreading the pain ointment along her skin, feeling her stiffening as an attempt to hold still.
I finished healing her stomach then, and she breathed for a moment before her lashes fluttered open. “That feels nice....”
“Better?” I said.
She glanced at me and nodded.
“Posso toccarti il seno?” I asked her.
Her eyes grew cloudy with confusion. “What?”
I smiled a little, forgetting that she didn’t understand Italian. “Can I touch your breasts?”
Her cheeks shaded a light pink, but she swallowed and nodded.
A/N
TW!
Smut the next chapter, just so you know.
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