53. All Men are Dogs

* *Buzz* *
I feel vibrations running through my arm, causing me to wake up from my deep sleep. My eyelids feel heavy as I raise my hand and glance at the source of disturbance.
I blink an eye at the harsh white glow of my watch as it shows: 10:05 AM
*Fuck!*
Groggily, I rise up and suddenly I feel like I am thrown from a Five-Star room to barely a One-Star room. And then it hit me- This isn’t my room, but Dakota’s.
Suddenly, flashes of the previous night flood back in- Red room of chaos, the panic state, his dreadful nightmare and my adrenaline-fueled attempts to calm him down.
Instantly, the dreaminess in my eyes evaporates and I search for him, only to be met with the emptiness of plain four walls.
*Where is he, and why didn’t he wake me up?*
Fascinatingly, I look around the mysterious bedroom of a mysterious man.
There are no photographs or paintings on the walls, and definitely no Andrew Tate portraits like I had predicted. No furniture, no luscious carpet to walk on, nor a human size mirror to get ready, just a mattress left on the floor.
It doesn’t even look like a room, but a confined prison.
*Which is oddly strange..*
Because my room is designed with grandeur and I assumed his room would be like a lavish stay in Burj Khalifa, but in reality it is just an empty shell.
*Why is he living like this, when he can afford all the luxuries in the world?*
A sharp chill runs through my spine as I keep my foot on the marble floor, feeling its icy coldness. The room is oddly chilling, almost freezing like a December night, and I quickly wrap the blanket around my body for some April warmth.
Heading towards his bathroom, I mentally prepare for the mess but surprisingly, I am met with stark cleanliness. There is no speck of dust on his bathroom floor, nor any evidence of scattered pills.
It’s as if I was all dreaming about his nightmare and the chaotic scenes from last night, but looking at the broken tile on the wall, I know it was all real.
My fingers trace the thickness of the marble and I can’t even imagine how much force it might have been used to break it.
*But then again, where are those pills?*
I try to open his medicine cabinet, but it is sealed tightly as if locked firmly from inside. I let out a sigh knowing what he did and head to his closet in search of something to wear, only to find that it is locked as well.
Of course! He won’t let his whore wear any clothes and make me walk in his home like he always wanted.. Naked.
*‘This is how I want you to walk in my house, stripped off your attitude and clothes.’* His biting words pierce through me, reviving all those haunted memories which I have lived through.
Tears soak my cheek, but I wipe them off and push back the looming shadows of the past. Just two more days. *Just two..*
Raising my teary eyes, I spot a door at the corner of his bathroom, one that doesn’t exist in mine. Instinctively, my feet move on their own, drawn to uncover whatever is hidden by the mystery door of the mysterious man.
As I open the door, my mouth drops in awe at the breathtaking view of a vast balcony that stretches with a panoramic view of endless blue ocean.
The gentle sea breeze caresses my face, while the rhythmic lull of waves instantly captivates my heart, making me fall in the love with the view.
*It’s beyond beautiful!*
I notice flowerpots of marigolds and daisies lined at the corner of the balcony and a chair under the umbrella, as if it is meant to sit and enjoy the mesmerizing scene for hours.
I never thought a place like sunshine could exist in this cold castle. It is such a stark contrast to his plain walls, and it puzzles me even more.
Clutching the blanket around me, I walk towards the chair to enjoy the scene for a while, when I spot a mysterious black diary lying there.
My curiosity opens the diary, only to find that it is a drawing book. Each page is filled with intricate designs of cars, tyres, steering wheel, 3D architecture of kitchen, standing bar, bedroom, all drawn with specific details.
A pencil suddenly slips from the pages and I manage to catch it just in time. It’s an elegant black charcoal pencil, custom made with ‘Black’ carved in golden letters onto its surface.
Intrigued by the pencil, I flip to the page it slipped from.
A silent gasp leaves my lips as I meet with a series of abstract sketches of human anatomy. Eyes, lips, neck, delicate hands, female breasts, curvy waist and thighs. My mouth widens as the sketches get more intimate with every turn of page, getting darker and more detailed.
*He drew all of this?*
I sit there stunned to my bones, not believing he could even draw, that too so beautifully. And suddenly, the sea doesn’t interest me as much as these artworks.
It feels like I am prying on a private sketchbook of a French artist.
The lines are so soft and fluid, making the sketches appear almost real as if copy pasted from his memory. Each sketch not only show cases his drawing skill, but also depicts his intense passion for art.
I thought he had some unhealthy obsession with paintings, but I was wrong.
Dakota does not just like art, he feels art.
I close his diary, feeling a chaos of emotions in me. These sketches weren’t meant for my eyes, yet I had seen them. A part of his soul that I never knew existed.
Clutching the blanket around me, I give one last look at the peaceful ocean and get back inside. Suddenly, the stark white walls of his empty bedroom hits me like a cold wave.
The lack of any personal touch screams louder about the defect in his personality that something is seriously wrong.
I can’t believe I thought he was having sex with someone here, but looking at the condition of his room, I don’t think he has ever let someone in.
*No doubt why he never took me to his room at night!*