| Behind Closed Doors: Chapter I |
| January 29th She was scared. Danny had been drunk and violent before, so often in fact that was part of her daily routine to get beaten up and then raped, but he had never had a reason to punish her before, except that it turned him on when she was terrified. This time it was different. This time, he had gotten it into his head that she was cheating on him with her new employer. How stupid was that? She didn't even like the guy, let alone have the hots for him. She wasn't shy about showing it either. She spent most of her time with him yelling at him, telling him exactly what she thought of him. Or what she told herself she thought of him, anyway. It was odd, really, but much as she told herself she hated him, Michael Jackson was still the only man she had ever felt completely safe with, even though she would never, ever admit it, not even to herself. Sometimes, when she lay awake in the dead of night, scared to move for fear of waking Danny, she wondered whether he really deserved it, or whether she was just taking out all her resentment of Danny out on him instead, because deep down, very, very deep down, she knew that no matter what she said or did to him, there was no way he would ever raise a hand to a woman, even if she was a bitchy slut. Danny came towards her, broken bottle in hand, grabbed her by the hair, and pulled her up so that she was level with his hips. She knew perfectly well what he wanted, and even better what would happen if she didn't give it to him, and so, no matter how much it disgusted her, she began to undo his jeans. When she had finished, and Danny lay drunk and unconscious on the floor, she picked herself up, and stumbled out the door, not admitting it, but deep down knowing exactly where she was going. ** "What?! No, it�s okay, I understand................. Look, I said don't worry about it, okay?! I'll get a cab or something.........Yeah...........Okay, well, feel better, alright?.............Okay, bye." Michael put the phone down, harder than necessary. "Great, just great!" Michael muttered to himself as he dragged out the two ton phone book, and began looking for a mini-cab firm. Just as he thought he might have found what he was looking for, he heard her in the doorway. He knew it was her, because they were the only people left on Neverland after 7 o�clock. Or at least, the only two people allowed to come and go in the house as they pleased. "What do you want?" He didn�t even look at her. He didn�t need to. He knew just what she would look like. Beautiful, staring straight at him, mocking him, deep, dark blue eyes guarded. He so did not need this tonight. He hadn't had time to go out in a while, and so had been particularly looking forward to tonight. There was no way he was going to let her spoil his good mood. He picked up the receiver, and began to dial the number. "What ever it is, make it quick. I'm just on my way out" "I know, I. . . " She suddenly wondered why on earth she had thought he would give up his first night off in weeks for her. After all, it wasn�t like they were friends or anything. In fact, ever since she had moved in to the guest house on the Neverland estate to be his personal physician, she had done nothing but snap at him, throw hurtful barbs at him when least suspected it, basically be a real bitch to him. She sometimes wondered why he put up with it, instead of just firing her. She suddenly wished he would look at her. "Why don't you stay in tonight? You could have some friends round, or get a call-girl, or something" "Not if you paid me! Why should I? I've been looking forward to this for ages. What's it to you, anyway?!" "I. . . . . .I just. . . . . Please stay, you don't have to be in the same room, or even talk to me, just please stay with me. . . . " She was confusing him now. He wanted to look at her, to see why she sounded so desperate, but instead he kept his voice cold. "Why should I sacrifice my fun for your sake?" "I, I don't know. . . . . . . Michael, please. . . . . . " She was difficulty stopping her voice from breaking all of a sudden. Still, he refused to look in her direction. He was getting annoyed at the busy signal at the other end of the line, and took his frustrations out on her. "What?!" "Michael, I'm so afraid. . . . " Now that took him by surprise. "What?" He asked her, much more gently this time, as he turned his head to look at her. When he saw her, he cringed inwardly. He wasn't quite sure what he had expected to find, but whatever it was, this wasn't it. She was standing in the doorway, her arms lightly wrapped around her, her tousled hair falling around her bruised and tear-stained face, looking at him with big, pleading eyes, glazed over with more unshed tears. She looked so small and fragile, that all he wanted to do at that moment was to protect her and take care of her. "Sara. . . " He whispered her name, almost to himself, and for a split second reached out towards her, as if to touch her, before dropping the phone, rushing over to her, and wrapping her in his arms. For a moment she froze, not knowing what to do. A voice in her head, the same voice that told her she hated him, told her to back off, that he would use her just like everyone else if she didn't, but she couldn't make herself do it. It felt too good, so warm and protective. She couldn't remember when she had last felt this safe, and in the moment of weakness, the desperation took control, and she started to cry, burying her head in his chest, and giving herself over to him completely. |