I don't know what I was thinking, getting myself into this.
That's a lie. I know exactly what I was thinking. What I was thinking was that, having just moved, I knew nobody in town. The thing about burning bridges is that you'll have to build new ones, eventually - otherwise you'll just stay stuck, surrounded by rivers on all sides. I wanted to remedy the situation as quickly as possible.
I have to admit he looked distinguished in the photos, at least in comparison with the majority of men on the same personals site. Fifty-something, I can't recall, though just by looking at him I would've guessed more.
There was something about the way he phrased his offers that made it hard to say no. Maybe I was desperate. Either way, I met him at a café I've never heard of the same day we started talking.
The first thing I noticed was that he looked bigger in person. Taller, heavier. The second was the distinctive scent about him; the warm notes of a high-quality cologne masking a lingering smell of steel. His clothes were well-fitting and suited him despite the markedly old-fashioned style. The only jewelry he wore was a single thick, golden ring, sculpted into a geometric design.
From the very moment he introduced himself, his voice was like honey. It was low, soothing and encouraging. Very pleasant to listen to.
He did most of the listening, though. I talked and talked, occasionally apologizing for the sheer volume of words pouring out of me. It was just that they had nowhere else to go. He responded with a smile that felt like the most genuine permission I could've received.
“It's okay, please go on”, he reassured, the lamps’ soft golden light reflecting in his eyes. “I want to get to know you.”
It made me feel safe, and so I said too much. I told him I was all alone in the city, and a hundred other stupid things you don't tell strangers.
He treated me to a second piece of cake and a bunch of soothing words that meant very little, but felt like a lot. And so I kept being stupid.
It was snowing outside and I was glad to be there, safe from the freezing cold in the warm café. His body seemed to emanate the same kind of warmth his responses did. I wanted to get close enough to feel nothing but this. I didn't say it. He seemed to understand it regardless.
I was right. He took me home in his car and held me in his arms all night. I couldn't have been happier. Come morning I was sure I found the comfort I didn't know I lacked; he asked for no favors, only my presence.
Walking hesitantly to the door, I wished for nothing but to stay with him.
The door was locked. I asked for the keys, but he just laughed it off. It seemed he wished for the same.
I quickly went from asking politely to raising my voice - and then, as this too amounted to nothing, to pleading. Bargaining. Hating myself for the offers I was making. “Please, I’ll come back next week.”
“You don't need to go”, he stated, grabbing me by the shoulder and gently pushing me away from the door. I protested.
“I really do. I have a job interview today.”
“You don't need to go”, he repeated, pulling me closer by the fabric of the coat I had already put on. “To the interview, or anywhere. I’ll take good care of you.”
He ruffled my hair with a chuckle, his broad hand flat against my back now, pressing me against him. All the things I've told him came flooding back.
“I don't know anyone in the city.” So no one will worry if I don't come back.
“I have a couple of interviews lined up, but no job here yet.” So if I fail to show up, I’ll need someone to be dependent on.
No one knew where I was. No one but him. I couldn't feel my phone in my pocket. I was an idiot.
“You're a lucky guy”, he said, picking me up. I flinched, but didn't struggle, however embarrassing it was to be carried in his arms like this. There was no point to it. I had nowhere to run.
“We're both in luck, really”, he continued. “You'll have a good life, free of worry, away from the rat race. As for me… I'll have you.”
He set me down in the dining room. The fireplace a few meters behind me was alight with a bright, dancing flame. My legs were shaking.
“I don't really want much in return”, he assured with a smile and my stomach dropped, though I couldn't pinpoint why. “As long as you're grateful, I'll be happy.”
“I don't want this, though. I'll be fine on my own”, I began.
He raised his hand and I found myself on the floor faster than I could react. My face was bleeding; he must've hit me hard enough for his ring to cut my jaw.
“Don't refuse me the one thing I asked for”, he said flatly. “Show some gratitude. Say thank you.”
Still in shock, I hesitated. It was a mistake. He kicked me in the gut so hard I crumpled with a pained yelp.
“Thank you”, I choked out, as quickly as I could. It came out barely audible. I didn't want to waste any time on catching my breath.
“Louder”, he demanded. “I can hardly hear you. And shouldn't you use a proper title when talking to someone older?”
“Thank you, sir”, I stammered. It was met with a satisfied laugh. Thank God.
“Get up”, he ordered and I scrambled to pick myself up off the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a splatter of blood inches away from the hearth.
“You ought to eat better. I'll fix us breakfast right now”, he stated as I followed him to the adjacent kitchen. Right, I did mention my poor diet the previous night…
“Any allergies I should know about?”
I shook my head. He gave a nod of acknowledgement, accompanied by a brief smile. To my surprise, it looked just as warm and genuine as back in the café.
“Great. Just sit tight, then - it'll be ready soon.”
My face still hurt. I made a mental note to give proper thanks for the meal and sat on one of the stools lined up on the other side of the kitchen, watching him prepare the meal. An assortment of knives of varying sizes hung on the wall. Even the biggest ones looked light in his hands.
Potential weapons… No, no. Seeing how quickly and dexterously he worked them, I dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. There was one only realistic outcome to trying to attack him with a knife; a quick and humiliatingly effortless disarmament. Whatever would come next was too terrifying to dwell on.
It was obvious just by looking at him - he was bigger, stronger, faster. Clearly smarter, too, or I wouldn't have ended up here in the first place. I hated to admit it, but had no other choice: there was no way in which I didn't pale in comparison.
I was stuck, utterly and completely - but hungry, too. Breakfast seemed almost ready, and it smelled delicious. As much as it hurt my pride, I decided on a surrender - a temporary one, hopefully.
Outside, a snowstorm raged on. Looking through the window, I saw nothing but white. The bitter feeling of defeat slowly gave way to much sweeter, genuine gratitude. Pride was one thing, but like anyone else, I wanted to be warm and well fed.
“You can come to the table”, he said and I jumped a little, startled out of my ponderings. “Breakfast will be served in a second.”
“Okay.” I got up and began to walk to the dining room.
“Thank you, sir”, I added.