I didn't know when my screaming turned to loud sobs, or when I fell from the couch and my knees hit the carpet.
I just wept uncontrollably. My body shaking in the process, the feelings of dread, anger, despair, and frustration all hitting me hard, all at once. Wave after wave, my head still felt like it was under water, in that bathtub, only that this time I was struggling to come up for air, and I kept being pulled back.
In the middle of all the thoughts from the past day swirling in my head, from the day I was kidnapped, to today, when I felt he had chained me up and thrown away the key. I thought to myself, Why would he choose me? What could I have possibly done to deserve being picked by Damiano Gusto?
I didn't know who he was; I've never met him. So why me?
I didn't hear when anyone came in, I flinched when I felt the warmth from arms wrapped around me, comforting me.
Then I inhaled and realised it was Matteo, he smelled of rosemary and sandalwood. His smell made me relax in his hands and bury myself deeper into him, my sobs muffling, allowing all the tears I had left to pour down, soaking his shirt.
If I had any questions before about having Matteo in my corner, it was gone.
With his arms around me, I didn't feel as alone or as helpless. I felt he cared, and he was here to help; he was here for me.
I didn't feel like I was underwater. The longer I cried, I felt the water was draining away, allowing me to breathe.
When I felt I had no tears left to cry, I pulled away, looking at Matteo, who gave me a comforting smile. His eyes were just as comfortable to look at as his hugs, he didn't say a thing. He grabbed my hands in his, squeezing them.
"I'm stuck here", I mouthed out, not recognizing my voice. It sounded strained, croaky, and most of all exhausted.
Matteo shook his head, "No, you're not", his beautiful eyes staring deep into mine, his eyes mirrored a little of how I felt. Broken.
"You're here, breathing, and you're still fighting.
You aren't stuck here.
He does not determine if you're free or not.
He hasn't won, and you haven't lost." his words were a promise, like he was sure he wasn't going to let me loose.
"You're not doing this alone anymore, it's us versus him.
We'll figure this out, together." his words came out low, steady, and without any signs of doubt or dishonesty.
They served as my anchor, he served as my anchor.
I scoffed, in an attempt to laugh. Then I smiled and he smiled back.
I didn't feel completely okay, but I didn't feel underwater anymore, and I also didn't feel alone.
I stepped into the shower, immediately turning it on, the warm water relieving most of the knots on my back.
I took huge breaths, basking in just how relaxing it felt.
I let the water soak my hair, I swept my long hair backwards, letting the water touch my scalp as I felt my hair touch the base of my waist.
Today felt like the right day to shampoo my hair, I wasn't surprised to see all my hair care products and bath products in the caddy.
I wasn't shocked because I had noticed them before, but refused to use them, settling for just washing my body with a bar of soap I found in the cupboard.
Today, I felt I had nothing to lose and took advantage of them.
Giving my hair a well-needed wash and my body the extra care I was used to before I was captured.
Just before I got out of the shower, I almost didn't notice that this wasn't my home, and that I was still a prisoner.
I walked into the room, a white towel wrapped around me, and my hair still slightly damp after a little hair drying.
I felt lighter, comfortable in how I smelled, just like before.
I immediately noticed Damiano in the room; he was resting on the couch and had his full attention on me, almost like he had been watching the bathroom door, impatiently waiting for me to be out.
I sized him up, noticing his calm demeanor, just like earlier.
For a moment, I stood still, on instinct, like I was waiting for him to drop another threat.
He stalked toward me, his long legs reaching me with ease.
"Pineapple and cinnamon, I'm glad you're finally making use of your things.
Acceptance is good news", he said, he was a safe distance from me as he said this.
I looked away and then walked into the closet, ignoring him. I rummaged through my things, looking for what to wear.
I rolled my eyes as his words settled in my head, irked by the fact that he knew my scent and knew the products I used. It made my mouth go sour, the thought of him knowing me that much. Learning my favourite things, buying them. He was a lurking monster, nothing more.
I slipped into my underwear, pushing away the thought that he also got all these, shopped for them, and maybe even placed them in the drawers.
I grabbed a pair of light blue jeans and a black sweater that stopped at my waist.
"Logan has been calling, I thought you would have called him by now.
That's the least you could do", his words made me stop just as I was buttoning my jeans.
His voice sounded like it came just from the other side of the door, like he was talking right at the door.
My fingers trembled as I finally secured my jeans, the sound of Logan's name from his mouth making me want to slap the taste out of his mouth.
I opened the door of the closet and there he was, standing looking down at me with those storm colored eyes.
His face, unreadable, the colder brother. His jaw was always set, or was that just how chiselled it was, his lips always a flat line.
I took a step closer, arching my head just enough.
We weren't too close, but we were close enough that I could notice features I never took notice of before, his busted lip turning blue, unattended to.
"You said I was free.
I don't need your suggestions on when to call my husband", I said plainly, making sure to say the last word.
A wave of emotion flashed through his face just then, unmistakably, it was rage.
"He is not your husband", he said lowly. I could tell from his tone that the word bothered him. The word set a flame in him.
"You sure about that, Damian?", I said, purposely saying his wrong name. Then I saw his jaw thicken, his lips that were in a straight line, twitching.
"I remember a church and a white dress." My words weren't low; they taunted him, I could tell.
I took another step, getting closer, feeling the heat from him.
Rage flashed through his storm coloured eyes, rage and something else.
"You didn't say I do", he said between gritted teeth.
"Because I was drugged", I snapped, feeling my heart pace faster, rage fueling me.
"You drugged me before I could", I shot back.
His eyes searched mine, like he was ignoring just how angry I was. And he was distracted by something else.
This time, he took a step closer, closing any space there was between us. I could feel his breath fanning my face, I could tell he felt mine.
The smell of his strong cologne and his last smoke suffocated me, his proximity threatening me to back down, look down, look away, escape his presence.
"Pineapple, cinnamon, and neroli with smoked vanilla.
You smell just like yourself", he said. I followed his gaze, and I regretted it just then. My lips quivered as if sensing an audience.
I swallowed subtly, I wasn't going to let him see that he had an effect on me.
"You wouldn't know who I really am even if I carved it into your skin".
He leaned in, not hiding the fact that his eyes watched my lips.
We shared the same air, half an inch closer, and our lips would touch, the closeness making a pit form in my stomach.
"Maybe not", he murmured, his eyes looking back at mine just then.
"But I'm not planning to let you go until I do".
My breath caught in my throat, my body reacting to his words in a way I wish it hadn't.
I bit my lip unconsciously.
"I'll never let that happen.
I will always loathe you", I said, my words coming out like venom, pulling me out of whatever daze I was just in.
I stepped back, then walked away.