Bound

By: N

Being bound tightly by a rock was Rosslyn’s dream, ever since she had been a little girl this is what she had wanted. The thought of a man coming into her life that she loved and would sweep her off her feet. Feminists thought she was brainwashed for wanting a man to take care of her, but what was wrong with wanting something that your heart yearned for? Deep down she enjoyed the feeling of having a man that could do everything she could ask him to.

    The date had gone as planned, and she knew that this was the day that Morgan would propose. She could tell that he had been devising some plan for the past few weeks, all those mysterious outings he had been taking. It was foolish of her but she had actually seen the rock placed in gold, he hadn’t hidden it very well. The mere thought of this man, Morgan Farragut, being her husband was joyous.

    The lighting was low over their little table, the candles flickering as the mood was set. It was after the first bit of food that she noticed the change in her man, the nervous speaking he had been doing was cute in it’s own way. The champagne had arrived and she noticed he had taken both glasses quickly and tried to pour out her own share. Such a cheesy way of proposing and she loved it too. Shaking like a leaf he handed her the glass, and at the bottom she saw what she had spied many days ago. The gold shimmered under the liquid as if it was a nugget in a stream near California. The rush from seeing it was just like that of a gold digger’s.

    She squealed in delight, taking out the rock and sliding it on so easily, and she yelled yes as loud as she could, though it was merely a mumble. She just couldn’t speak, and she started to shake in happiness.

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    The lighting of the basement was dim, barely a little bit of a light from the single lightbulb that shorted out every now and then. The card table had been brought out, and a bed sheet tossed on top of it with stains from “incidents” in the night. The ready-to-eat food had been microwaved, tossed onto the set without a care.

    Morgan sat across from his love, greasy hair and all. The outfit he wore was dirty and barely fit him, the suit wrinkled from being tossed away without any consideration for it being messed up later down the road. His glasses casted a rather disgusting look onto his pale face, the acne not boding well either with the lighting.

    “You look lovely deary…” He let out with a wheeze, fixing the position of his eye-wear on his nose. There was a mumble across from him, and he realized she wasn't’ there any more. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was somewhere else entirely. Slowly he moved from the seat and to her spot at the table, taking her duct-taped hands that were behind her back and he slid on a cheap five-dollar vending machine ring on her finger.

    “You’re mine forever…” He breathed into her ear. With a lick on the cheek, he tasted the salty tears. To him he could have sworn that under the tears and duct-tape on her mouth he could see a smile. She had lost will to fight long ago, and he was happy with her obedience. She could think whatever she wanted in her head, but reality was harsh and he owned her. Morgan, whether he was in her head or in real life, was bound to her with a rock just like her hands were bound together by duct tape.