54. His Gentle Caress

As I decide to leave, I couldn’t help but notice strange marks on the door, as if someone desperately tried to claw their way out. Like a wild animal, who has been deliberately confiscated here.
My fingers trace the scratches and the deep dents on the wood, possibly caused by throwing a heavy object in rage or a fist.
*Jesus Christ! This is too much to take in.*
His nightmare, the broken tile, all those psychotic medicines, and now these marks on his door, they all paint a disturbing picture in my mind that scare me to core.
The way his personality changes, his mood and voice.. I knew he was not normal.
*Oh god! Why do I always come across psychos?*
First Ryan, now him! I leave his room, feeling like a maniac magnet. It’s like I have this super-ability to attract every psycho within a hundred-mile radius.
As I step into my room, I realize what luxury truly means. It’s like entering an entirely different world.
Royal painted walls with lavish decor, a queen size bed with bedside marble tables, a lush carpet underfoot, a wall-mounted TV, full-length mirror, and a cosy sofa set in the corner with a pink bag right on the table, which definitely wasn’t there last night.
“What is it?” What is it? My anxiety asks me as well.
I clutch the blanket around my thudding chest as I approach the mysterious pink bag. It feels like deja vu, when he handed me a similar bag filled with slutty lingeries.
Under the spell of curiosity, I grab the bag and find a box taped with a note that says..
*‘I know you want to, but don’t come down naked ;)’*
I roll my eyes at his sarcasm and proceed to uncover what that perverted demon has sent me this time. I open the lid, and there is a.. a..
A gasp leaves my lips as I lay my eyes on the most beautiful shade of peach, which glimmers into hues of blue with the slightest movement. Under compulsion, my fingers brush against the fabric as I hold it in my trembling hands.
Tears well up in my eyes as I feel how soft its cloth is, almost fragile like the emotions I have held within me for so long.
*He.. he.. got me a.. a dress!*
A sob crawls up my throat, choking me with my tears as I stare at the most beautiful dress of my life. And suddenly, the picture before me starts to get blur.
My knees sink to the floor, as if the dam of my emotions have been shattered and I cry hard hugging the dress. It is not just a piece of cloth, but my dignity, my self-respect, that was brutally snatched away from me.
Now I know how Dobby must have felt when Harry Potter gave him that sock.
*That evil-miser king has given me a dress!*
“Thishh ishh soo pretty.” Uncontrollable tears flow down freely, and submerge in the softness of the cloth as I hold the dress close to my heart like the most precious thing I have ever gotten.
I kiss the fabric, and carefully place the dress back inside the box, then rush to the bathroom with a smile on my face.
I can finally roam in the house with clothes and my lost grace.
Today, I skip my usual conversation with the bottles and shower quickly. Once I am done, I wrap the towel around my body, and step out of the shower with a sense of excitement pricking my toes.
I have never been this thrilled to try on a dress before, especially when it’s the only piece of clothing I’ll get to wear after five long naked days.
Picking up the dress, I realize there is no bra included, just a simple white cotton panty in the box. As I slip it on, I instantly feel the support of inbuilt pads and the fabric, it feels like touching silk on my skin.
The top of the dress clings on to my body like second skin, while the lower part flows gracefully as if tailored to sway with every step.
As I catch my reflection in the full-length mirror, my heart swells with happiness. I don’t remember when was the last time I felt so beautiful in a dress.
It’s like I am draped in mermaid scales, which radiates different shades from every angle. I give a little twirl, and watch the dress dance around me.
*It is so pretty!*
But suddenly, my gaze meets with swollen puffy eyes in the mirror, a proof of all the brutality I went through.
Stripped, degraded, fucked, abused, repeatedly for days.
I shake my head, not letting all those dark memories drag me back into the abyss I crawled out from.
*I will not let blackness get to me again!*
Taking a deep breath, I force a smile on my face and walk up to the closet to see what I can put on my face to make it more happily glowing.
Opening the drawer, I discover an exhibition of branded cosmetic products from Dior, Fenty Beauty, Sephora, Chanel and some brands I can’t even pronounce.
*Hmm.. Not so miser after all.*
With a steady hand I draw a black line on my swollen eyelids, followed by a thick coat of mascara. After applying a nude lipstick, I complete the look with a dab of creamy rose tint on my nose and cheeks.
A smile naturally curve my lips as I stare at my radiant reflection. I don’t look like the same depressive girl who had cried herself to sleep for countless nights.
The girl in the mirror is a new me- Bold, beautiful and confident enough to conquer the world.
As I gaze at my happy reflection, I feel light from inside as if the weight of sadness has been lifted from my chest and I can finally breathe freely.
I give my hair a quick tousle and walk down the stairs to face the unpredictable king of moods. I wonder what made him change his mind to not wake me up, or demand to cook for him. Instead, I am surprised by his surprise gift.
*What is going on in his psychotic head?*
As I reach the main hall, my feet slow down when I hear Dakota’s voice. But then I hear another voice. I feel a sudden thud in my chest as I hear him having a conversation with a… girl.
The pull of curioisty makes my step eager and I stride into the living room where I find him sitting on the couch, casually talking to someone I know very well.
*What on the earth is she doing here?*