11. LEO

I waited in my room until I heard the bedroom door across from mine close. I didn't want to leave this place, it was so nice, but I also didn't enjoy feeling like a prisoner. I thought he'd wanted me to do that for him, touch him perhaps, but I was wrong, clearly.

I'd also only ever experienced the death of a grandparent before, but I was too young to attend the funeral. I hadn't experienced the death of someone close as an adult. Sure, I'd witnessed one today, and then I'd seen the pale blue hand of his father on the armchair, but I hadn't really seen him.

Opening the bedroom door, slowly, I creeped out into the hallway. His flat was huge, I'd explored it briefly when he was out. There were two doors that were locked, his bedroom and another room, I assumed an office. Perhaps that's what the key was for. He also had a gym, and he'd told me I'd need to use if I was going to be eating all the food I'd listed for him to buy.

On my tiptoes, I walked to the window and looked out over the park. It was early autumn with some warmer days, but most of them were chilly. I didn't hate the cold weather, since I could always add layers.

I tried not to touch the windows. I knew he'd probably shout at me for leaving fingerprints and streaks on the glass. The way that Derek had at the pawnshop. I didn't mind making Derek mad, but I didn't want to make Samuel mad. He was the first person who looked at me, just stared without my body feeling like I was about to be attacked. When he looked at me, it felt like he was still deciding, but it was oddly warm.

Snapping a picture on my phone, I sent it to Susie.

—Can you believe the place I'm in? I sent her.

Her response was immediate.

—No. I'll have to visit and make sure you're not being used as a drug mule.

—Send me a picture with you in it.

I didn't want to. My face was still bruised, and it ached when I touched at it. I didn't want a picture of my face like that existing forever.

Pulling the selfie camera up to view myself for any potential picture, I noticed him standing in the hallway far behind. He leaned against the side of the wall; his head cocked as he stared at me.

"Are you taking pictures of what you plan to steal?" he asked, stumbling forward.

I walked over to him, shaking my head. "No, I was sending my friend a picture of the view."

He kept his balance as he planted his palm firm on the wall. "Why are you staying?" he grumbled. "You had all the time to leave. What's keeping you?"

I lulled my head, scared to make prolonged eye contact.

"Come on," he said, grabbing my upper arm and squeezing. "What's keeping you here?"

"I—I—I thought you were going to teach me, take me under your wing," I said, my voice weak as I spoke. "You were going to help me, and I was going to work for you. Then I could be more like you and stuff."

He took his hand and grabbed my other arm, shaking me. "You don't want to be more like me," he said. "Why would you want that? I'm not someone you aspire to be, not any normal person would anyway."

Forced to look him in his crazy pink teary eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said. "Don't be fucking sorry. I'm never sorry. I'm—" he hesitated, his grip on me loosening. "I'm not good. You can leave. Go on."

I had that chance earlier, and I didn't want to go. Sure, selfish reasons told me to stay, but now, I wanted to stay because he was upset, and I didn't know what he would do when he stopped being upset. He'd probably come back for me like an unfinished project. "No," I offered weakly.

"But look at you, you're special with your—stuff."

He was talking about my little space, the way I liked to dress in comfort and how I had my stuffed teddy. I didn't know if he knew about my love for cartoons, or how I enjoyed drawing like I was a six-year-old unable to hold a pen. All those things brought my happiness and joy, but they didn't complete me. Those were just the things I could do for myself. "Do you—do you want me to leave?"

Samuel was silent. His breathing hitched in the back of his throat. He slowly shook his head. "Why would I want you to leave?" he asked, raising a hand to my face, he stroked me clumsily. "You're—you're my new obsession."

"I think you might need to go to sleep," I said.

"No, I'm serious," he said. "I—I'm an asshole. You should run. You want me to get you some money. Go travel. Go do what you want. There's no reason anyone should have to be saddled with me."

I licked my dry lips wet. "I think you're drunk."

"Drunk," he scoffed. "I don't get drunk. I'm an adult. I'm thirty-seven. I can handle alcohol. I'm like—like what, fifteen years older than you?"

"Fourteen," I said. "And that's ok if you are, you know. Today's been stressful. Let me help you into bed."

He pulled me into his arms, pressing my head against his chest. The mix of vanilla and tobacco from his cologne was almost overpowering, if it wasn't for the smell of alcohol on his breath. I wondered how much he'd had to drink. There was the vodka, the wine, and possible more while he was out. He squeezed. "You just want to get me in bed."

"No, I don't."

Letting go of me as I pulled away, I dropped to the floor.

"You don't—you don't think I'm attractive?" he asked. "You don't think I'm strong? You don't think I'm—protective?"

He seemed like he was all three things, alongside aggressive, a murderer, and somewhat unpredictable. "Yeah," I mumbled, dusting my hands off. "But I don't want to do anything with you like that. Not if you're drunk."

Holding out a hand, he helped me to my feet. "I'm not drunk."

It was a lie, but I didn't want to call him out more than I already had. "Maybe you could go for a nap then," I said. "Just because of how busy today has been."

"Sure," he grumbled. "I'll take a nap." He turned and walked into the wall.

I didn't want to show him to his room, we were only a couple feet away from the door. But there was something in me that told me I had to take him. I held his hand and guided him into the huge master bedroom. It was breath-taking with the dark wood, completely contrasting the white of the flat. There were heavy blackout blinds, and on the ceiling, a mirror, right above what looked like the world's most comfy bed.

"I've got something to tell you," he said.

"Yeah?"

He pulled me in his arms as we fell on the bed. He placed his mouth to my ear. "Is this what you want to hear?" he asked, his voice and breathy rasp tingled my skin. "I'm your Daddy now little boy, and you'll do whatever Daddy says."

My body tensed, not in fear, but with excitement. His words had power, they set my teeth on edge and my toes curling, trying to suppress the growing erection in my pants. "I—" I pulled away on my feet and looked at him, laid on his back, his shirt lifted by his waist to reveal the cum gutter V-shape. "What did you say?"

"I'm going to sleep," he grumbled as his eyes fluttered back.

I backed out of the room, my body slick with a coating of sweat. I stared at him as he laid there and the mirror right above him. I left the door ajar and walked back to my room, wondering what I was supposed to do now.

"I can't leave," I mumbled to myself as I cuddled Tuffy. "He's going to be helpful." I reassured myself and the teddy that we were fine. I didn't expect for him to say what he'd said. My little space was my safe space, and I didn't know how he knew about it, or whether I even wanted him in it at all.

In the past, I'd had older men who liked to take on that dominating Daddy role. It was hot, sometimes, but most of the time they lacked the true care and touch of the role. It's where most of them failed for me.

A buzz rang at the door.

It rang twice before I hopped up from the burrow in the bed and checked what it was.

There was a phone and a button. "Hello?" I answered.

"Mr Maxwell?" It was Kelly, I could tell by her voice. "I've got what you wanted."

"Oh. It's Leo," I said. "I'll buzz you." I placed the phone down and pressed on the button. I couldn't let her see Samuel. Hopefully, he'd stay in bed asleep.

Kelly arrived at the door with three bags of shopping. "Where's Mr Maxwell?" she asked.

"He's sleeping."

"Oh, ok," she said, quieter. "I was going to check if he needed anything else. Has he said anything about his dad?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I think it's all been a lot for him." I knew as soon as I spoke, I had said too much. I should've left it at no. "But thank you for bringing the food."

"That's ok," she said. "When he wakes up, let him know I got everything from his list, including the extra something he asked for."

"Ok, I will do," I said, taking the shopping bags and pulling them inside. "See you later."

I unpacked the shopping and explored more of the kitchen. I didn't know if I was overstepping, but I also knew that Samuel wasn't in the right place, mentally. His father had just died, I needed to be accommodating to him like he was being for me.

He'd also really got me everything I'd listed. Including the energy drinks. It was sweet. He was probably a decent person hiding under all those menacing expressions.

And one more thing, that wasn't on my list. It was a small bar of white chocolate, except, it was heavier than normal. It didn't look like any white chocolate I'd ever had. I opened it up to see a thin layer of plastic wrap around it, it was white, but I knew immediately what this was. It was cocaine.

Surely, it made sense, he was a criminal, not a petty thief like me, but he dealt drugs, and he probably did them as well. I didn't know how to feel about that. My mother had been addicted for years, and the only reason she kept me as a kid was because the government gave her money for me. It all went on drugs.

Seeing them, open on the table. The rush of emotion slithered up my back and wrapped its tight coil around my neck. I cried, running off to my room as I buried my head in a pillow and cried.

Trauma was a beast when it hit, and today it knocked the wind out of me.

Now, I didn't know if I could stay.