Page 70 of Petite Fleur

She’s curled up in a little ball in her sweatpants and a baggy shirt; her hair is still partially wet and in that adorable bird’s nest bun that she always wears at home, but her eyes are puffy and red, and it’s obvious that she’s been crying.

Fuck, I hate that.

I hate that I wasn’t here sooner.

I slowly gather her ankles and tie them together with the sports tape that I brought, making sure it’s tight enough not to break free from but loose enough not to hurt her.

I’d never want to hurt my girl.

Next, her wrists. I gather them very carefully and secure them in front of her, giving the tape a light pull once she’s secured.

I want her to see that she’s finally being saved from this miserable life, but I also don’t want to ruin the surprise, so I carefully wrap a few layers of sports tape around her head to cover her eyes.

I sit back and admire my handiwork for a moment before deciding to end this beautiful sight in front of me, and I drag my knuckles down her cheek.

Maeve jerks when I touch her, harshly thrashing her head around when she realizes that she can’t see or move her limbs very much. “You’re not going to scream; I won’t hurt you.” I promise her.

I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but my girl screams.

A deep and guttural scream from deep within her chest that I’m almost certain people in the next town over could hear, soI quickly grabbed the ball gag I had packed as a precaution. “Open.” I demand.

Oh, so now she’s quiet.

“You know, if you would’ve just listened to me, we could’ve talked the whole way home.” I say with a sigh.

Maeve shakes her head and clenches her jaw so tightly that I’m surprised it doesn’t hurt.

Stubborn woman.

I pinch her nose shut, waiting a few seconds until she finally opens her mouth and sucks in a desperate gasp of air, and shove the ball gag into her mouth.

I take the opportunity while she’s subdued to pack her things. I gather up all of her clothes and her shoes, but she won’t need any toiletries. I’ve bought everything she enjoys and even a few nicer brands of things she might like.

I think she’ll be happy that she no longer has to use the store-brand shampoo or that her perfume came from a store that also sells carrots.

I think she’ll be happy to realize that every aspect of her life will improve once she’s with me.

She just needs a little time to adjust to all of the changes.

I also grab everything that looks sentimental: blankets, trinkets, pictures, her computer, books, and jewelry.

By the time everything is gathered up, my girl’s room looks empty, and she is hysterical on her bed.

“Oh, petite fleur, you’re alright. Things are only going to get better from here, you’ll see. Now you’re going to be very good for me, okay? If you continue to scream, I’m going to drug you. We don’t want that, do we?” I ask calmly.

Maeve shakes her head, still sniffling and crying, but she seems to calm down a little bit.

I stroke my knuckles down her cheek again, wiping away the few tears that hadn’t soaked into the sports bandage wrapped around her head to cover her eyes. “That’s my girl.” I coo.

I leave Maeve on the bed while I make trips to the car, filling my trunk and the front seat with all of her things until I’m out of space and her former room is finally empty.

I jog back up the steps to get my girl, seeing she’s obviously still where I had left her. “Alright, up you go, my love.” I say before picking her up and cradling her in my arms.

She seems to be taking this well up until the moment we get to the front door, and she feels the humid air of Texas hit her; that’s when she gets hysterical again.

Fuck.

I know she’s going to make a scene if I try to carry her outside like this; I have to drug her.