Didn't Chose

From the corner of my eye, I watched him stride over to the armchair and sink down in it. He reached for the bottle of vodka and poured himself a generous amount.

Before he could change his mind, I quickly walked into the bathroom, closed the door and turned the lock, then cringed at how stupid that was.

A lock wasn't any protection from him, neither was a door.

Nothing in this world could protect me. I scrutinized my face in the mirror.

My eyes were red and my cheeks wet. I let the remains of my corset drop to the floor and picked up the nightgown that one of the servants had folded on the chair for me.

A choked laugh escaped my mouth after I'd put it on over my bow panties. The part over my breasts was made from lace, but at least it wasn't see-through but unlike the entire middle of the nightgown. It was the finest fabric that I'd ever seen and it didn't leave anything to the imagination.

My bare stomach and the panties were on display. It ended above my knees with a hem of more lace. I could just as well walk out of this room naked and be done with it, but I wasn't that brave.

I washed my makeup off, brushed my teeth, let down my hair, and when I couldn't prolong the inevitable any longer, I grabbed the door handle.

Would it be so bad if I slept in the bathroom?

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom.

Fu Shao was still sitting in the armchair. The vodka bottle was almost half empty. Drunk men were never a good thing. His eyes found me and he laughed without humour.

"That's what you choose to wear when you don't want me to eat you?"

I flushed at his crude language. It was the vodka talking, but I couldn't tell him to stop drinking. I was toeing the line as it was.

"I didn't choose it."

So I crossed my arms, torn between staying on my feet and slipping under the covers of the bed.

But lying down felt like a bad idea. I didn't want to make myself any more vulnerable than I already was. But standing in front of him half-naked wasn't the best choice either.

"My stepmother?" He asked.

I nodded simply. He put down his glass and rose. Of course, I flinched.

His expression darkened. He didn't say anything as he walked past me into the bathroom, not even when I gasped as his arm brushed mine.

The moment the door closed, I released a harsh breath.

Slowly I approached the bed, my eyes finding the light red stain. I perched on the edge of the mattress.

Water was running in the bathroom, but eventually he would come back out.

I lay down on the edge of the bed, turned on my side and pulled the covers up to my chin, then squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to fall asleep.

As I wanted this day to end, even if it was only the beginning of many hellish days and nights to come.

The water stopped and a few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom so I tried to make my breathing even to appear as if I was already sleeping.

And I risked a quick peek through half-closed eyes, my face mostly covered by the blanket, and turned to stone.

He was only wearing black short. And if he was impressive when dressed, he was a whole new level of intimidating when half-naked.

He was pure muscle and his skin was littered with scars, some thin and long as if a knife had sliced cleanly through, and some round and rigged as if a bullet had torn into his flesh.