This had to be some kind of dream. Charlie's watering eyes gazed up at Mila with disbelief. Yes, a dream. But if that were true, then why did her entire body feel as if she had been tied to the back of a car and heinously pulled down some dark highway a hundred miles per hour? She shut her eyes, willing herself to wake up from this nightmare. However, when her eyelids slowly slid back open she was still in the same room, with the same throbbing neck and the same sick feeling of violation twisting deep in her gut. She felt her chest be relieved of the weight as her attacker, she shuddered to use the word at someone who only moments ago she was lusting over, moved away. "I... I.." Charlie's voice was a croak as she slowly tried to put as much distance as possible between herself and Mila, the motion caused a burning pain to flare up in her chest. She was helpless.
Her mind reeled with confusion, fear and anger. She could hardly breath through the mixture of feelings combined with her broken body trying to recuperate itself. Her vision was clouded by tears that slid down her cheeks, leaving a salty trail in their wake. Slowly Charlie removed her hand from her neck and brought it into view, the fingers convulsed almost uncontrollably as she did so. The palm was covered in a slick, wet scarlet. A small sound, somewhere between a shriek and a sob, escaped her as she closed the hand into a tight fist and gazed towards Mila, who now held a cup of water out towards her, a complicated look of fear and misery was written across Charlie's ashen face. If this wasn't a dream, then it was either real or she was insane... and Charlie didn't know which she preferred.
“Here…do you want-..?”
Char shook her head. "Oh my god..." Her pitifully hoarse whisper was heart wrenching. "You were going to kill me." The realization brought a lump to her throat as she ignored the offered water and turned her head upwards towards the ceiling, no longer bearing to look Mila in the face. "You were going to kill me." Her accusing voice was sharp as she ran her swollen tongue over her cracked lips, tasting metallic blood. She cringed at the taste and tried to shift a little farther away from Mila, despite the fact that she very much ached to drink the water she offered. Charlie's eyes shut slowly as she tried to hold back another wave of tears that threatened to join her already damp cheeks. Her head pulsed slightly as she thought over and over again in her head; You were going to kill me... The phrase repeated like a broken record in her dubious mind. Her heart wrenched suddenly as she came to another startling realization. “And I was going to let you...”
Her parched throat now craved the sweating glass of water which would soothe it. Yet she stayed defiant and stared upwards at the ceiling, it was the only way for her not to break out into a fit of hysteria which bubbled just under the surface of her skin, lurking like a criminal in the night ready to strike at any moment. She couldn't let herself fall into that feeling of derangement. She had to stay alert, had to get away, had to call for help. “…Where’s your cell phone?” The sound of Mila's voice made Charlie shudder. It was so gentle now, not at all like the sultry tone that she had used to entice Char earlier. It was instinct the way she glanced towards the island counter where she always set her phone to charge. She realized, with a hopeless feeling growing in the pit of her stomach, that she may have given up her only resource to the outside world.
"Why...?" Her voice was a quiet moan as she fought away from the hopelessness and hysteria that threatened her. She wouldn't let herself become some kind of vegetable, frozen in a state of shock and horror. Charlie struggled to pull herself into a more upright position, a motion that proved to be most painful yet worth it as she propped herself against the pillows and alleviated some of the demoralization she felt. Her entire body still went rigid, though, as she stared past Mila, refusing to look at the woman. Char's bottom lip trembled slightly and her hand, which was still clamped in a bloody fist, slowly shook open. She was transfixed on the blood that was slowly dripping down her palm and streaking her wrist. It created an affect that reminded her oddly of paint dripping down an unmarked canvas. There was something so irreversible about that which turned her body cold as she slowly closed her hand once again.
"Why me?" Her voice dipped with a slight quiver as she dared glance at the monster before her.