The Piccolo

Katie’s POV

A brief image of me licking away the sweet-smelling alcohol flashes through my mind, but I quickly push it to the darkest corner of my brain. He’s attractive, but he is a monster. I can’t let my physical attraction to him distract me.

Watching him more closely, I can tell he is of Italian descent, which explains why he used the word ‘piccolo.’ His dark complexion, along with his dark hair and eyes, tells me he is. His body and hands are large, his whole presence is large.

“I hope you think of this place as a home, not a prison.” His words are gentle, and his eyes are soft as he looks at me. Either he is trying to comfort me or give me a false sense of safety. I’m guessing the latter. He probably wants me to let my guard down so his attack will be more vicious.

“I hope you treat me like a person and not a prisoner,” I retort, taking a seat on the sofa and folding my hands in my lap. I don’t know what else to do or where I am supposed to go. I have been given no directions o