14
mckenzie
The glassof ice water sweats in my hand as I raise it to my lips. Cold flows down my throat, sending a pleasant chill throughout my entire body.
I’m equal parts nervous and excited for the game we’re about to begin. It took a few days andmanydetailed conversations, but Austin finally gave in. And saying yes seemed to lower his inhibitions to the point where he could allow himself to feel anticipation alongside concern.
But before we can play, I have to drink every drop of water in this glass, and then bring the glass to the sink. That’s how I signal I’m ready for what comes next.
Am I ready? I desperately want to be, though I’m not sure whether that qualifies as a yes. So I sip my water rather than gulp it, taking a moment to study Austin’s broad, bare back and tapered waist. His black track pants sit deliciously low on his hips. He wouldn’t normally wear his running shoes inside, but tonight isn’t a normal night.
Tonight, we’re going to recreate one of the most traumatic experiences of my life and attempt to revise it.
My pulse taps at my neck like a concerned friend trying to get my attention.
Are you sure about this, McKenzie?
I am sure, whether or not I’m ready. The fact that I’ve been plagued by the exact same nightmare for two years tells me this sensory experience holds power. If I can retrain my brain to associate the memory of being chased outdoors at night with strongpositiveemotions, maybe I can loosen the hold the initial experience has on me. That’s the theory, anyway.
Austin rests the clean frying pan on the dishrack by the sink. I down the last of my ice water, take a deep breath, and rise to my feet.
My arm brushes his arm as I set the glass at the bottom of the sink. He catches my hand as I try to pull away, his gaze searching mine.
“You’re good?” he asks, his voice husky. I understand his caution. He doesn’t want to hurt me in ways I don’t want to be hurt. But I know I can trust him to not blow past my limits.
I have my safe word. Now, all I need is for both of us to commit.
“I’m ready,” I say.
His gaze darkens as he kisses the valley between my knuckles. My pelvic muscles clench like a fist.
My body is ready for this... Let’s hope my mind follows.
Austin keeps his back to the room as I exit through the kitchen door. Rough wooden boards nip at my bare feet. My heart’s already pounding, and I haven't even left the back porch.
Adrenaline heightens my senses, filling my head with the scent of honeysuckle and freshly mowed grass. I pick up on cicadas chirping in the trees, frogs warbling in the pond. The night air sticks to my skin, making me glad for my thin tank top and cotton shorts. No bra or panties tonight; they would only get in the way.
I want there to be as few layers between me and what’s about to happen to me as possible.
The actual chase begins when I take my first step off the porch.
I jog around to the side of the house. The woods on Austin’s property are far across the meadow and dense with underbrush, so we thought it best to have me head toward the orchard.
The backdoor slams.
My heart pounds.
Run.
My heels slam the soft ground. I could have worn shoes, but in my nightmares, I’m always barefoot. The cloud cover is sparse tonight, allowing moonlight to slip through. I spot the first pair of peach trees just up ahead. For a second, I think maybe I’ll get to the orchard before he sees me.
Then I hear the thunder of footsteps—a terrifyingly familiar sound. However, since I wasn’t caught, I can only assume those footfalls were either my own feet slamming against the ground, or a trick of the mind to keep my adrenaline pumping.
But the footsteps I hear tonight are very real...and growing closer.
Excitement and fear braid together down my spine. I break into a sprint as I enter the orchard, ignoring the sting of sharp sticks and dried leaf matter beneath my soles.
Air chafes my throat as I force myself to breathe, to run, to not stop for anything—