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Silly, he thought, telling himself, but it couldn't hurt to afford her a safe space for a while. He'd had the feeling she could vanish at any moment, and disappear into thin air. He wanted to keep her for as long as possible.

More and more, he wondered what her story was, resenting the presence which prevented her from speaking her truths, but he knew, with certainty, that he would protect her, should her demon ever make an appearance.

Gizelle had spent six months with an alcoholic monster who had imprisoned and terrorized her in every way imaginable. Meeting the devil for a quick drink had been a mistake, which had cost her six months of her life and, in truth, much more than that.

Ultimately, the price of that decision was that she was forever changed. He had beaten her, abused her mentally and physically, and she would never again be the light-hearted girl who had left her dorm room that night.

Gizelle had prayed, day and night, for a savior who wasn't coming, and then prayed for a tool to end her life. Finally, she ceased, scarcely caring what fresh hell would be inflicted each day, telling herself, he's a pure demon and this is punishment for something, though she couldn't imagine any behavior which would warrant this. She no longer believed in God, with ample proof to the contrary.

He'd drunk himself into a stupor and passed out cold, with the front door ajar. At first, she thought it was just a trick of shadows and light. She rubbed her eyes and checked again. It was open just a crack. With nothing more than a few dollars in change, and the keys in her pocket, she'd bolted, running through the door, knowing that she might never stop.

Her SUV was right where she'd left it, and she prayed the gas tank was full. It was full enough and she floored it down the highway, with no other goal than getting the hell out of town, and running like the wild wind.

She drove like the red devil himself gave chase, meaning to claim her soul, weaving recklessly, running red lights and stop signs, too panicked to check the rearview mirror. With daylight breaking, and two hundred miles to her credit, she pulled into an abandoned campground, exhausted and still shaking.

She checked the car for belongings, or anything resembling a phone, and found nothing. With nothing left to do, she pulled into the brush and overgrowth, ensuring the car was out of sight, crawled into the backseat, and slept.

Gizelle woke on a new day, unsure of how many hours had passed. Her stomach rumbled, and she dug into her pocket for the few dollars resting there. She returned to the highway and found a sign:

Mataeo's Diner Help Wanted

She asked for an interview and Mataeo gave her breakfast and a job. She was jubilant, and a tiny amount of her faith in God was restored. She had cleaned up at the campground, and plugged in an old curling iron, still in the back of her car. Finally, she felt slightly renewed and walked back to her car, with unclenched hands.

Gizelle went to work early, and cleaned out a back storage room, hoping to surprise Mataeo. She smiled softly, thinking, he always seems so thrilled with the little things I do.

She had studied him, in small side glances, now and then, and even caught him staring once. She wondered why he was watching her, with everything in her warning, don't get close. Always be prepared to run. She knew it would be a fight to stay distant, knowing how much she treasured the moments after closing, when he had opened up to her. She forced her attention back to organizing, sweeping and mopping.

Gizelle hung up her apron and dropped her bag, spilling the contents around her feet. As he approached, he leaned down to lend a hand. As he handed the items to her, he found himself staring straight down her blouse, and he was instantly hard. Jezuz, she looks better than I had fantasized.

She straightened up and slung the bag over her shoulder, but Mataeo couldn't let her leave. He placed hands on the wall on each side of her, telling himself, I'm not touching her. It's not a threatening posture, but she can't immediately run away either.

He leaned in and kissed her softly. Gizelle looked up at him, with sexual heat smoldering in her eyes, fisted his lapels and pulled him down for a hungry, visceral kiss, denoting a longing which encompassed more than just this moment. As they came up for air, she tried to bolt.

"I need to get going."

"Where to? Perhaps I can drive you."

She combed her mind for a believable lie, but he kissed her hotly and she forgot herself. His hands were on her, finding the places where her flesh was weak, and he lifted her and laid her atop a table.

Her hair splayed out around her, and the length fell off the opposite end, as she pulled her knees up to the edge. Mataeo leaned in and pushed her dress up, to kiss her belly, and then explored her with hungry hands.

She writhed as his fingers lingered on her exposed flesh, and then he knelt, lightly dragging his fingertips up her thighs, and kissed her craven need. Gizelle shivered and fought the voice in her head, warning her to run away.

Mataeo gripped her ass cheeks and pulled her to him, burying his tongue in her molten depths, and she wrapped her silky thighs around him. When he'd had his fill, he sat on a chair and pulled her across his lap.

"Mataeo, what are you doing?"

"Shhh. I'm going to give you pleasure like you've never experienced before," he breathed raggedly.

Mataeo removed her dress, rubbing her back and buttocks, whispering soothingly until she relaxed, and then smacked her buttocks sharply, and she fought him then, twisting and meaning to escape. He repeated the process, holding her wrists, and forcing her to stay put, as desire hummed in her veins, and she squirmed, whimpering.

"Let me pleasure you, baby girl. Surrender."

He smacked her again, raising a red handprint, and then massaged her until she went limp. Then deftly, he worked his way down until he slid a thick finger into her volatile cunt, wiggling hard and deep, and watched her squirming, lost in need, presenting a lovely erotic picture, draped over his lap.

He ground his fist into her and pulled back. She arched her spine, desperate for him to fill her. He slammed two fingers into her fiery canal, and began a rhythm, forcing her open wider, each time adding a finger, until her sweet, little cunt throbbed around his fingers.

He pulled her up to face him and hugged her tightly. Gizelle clung to him, not understanding what had just happened, but needing his arms around her. Finally, he pushed her back slightly to look into her eyes, whispering, "That was your first lesson in trust, baby girl."

Her eyes were wide, searching his face for answers, to questions which eluded her. He released her gently, and she pulled him to her, just needing to cling to him. Mataeo stroked her back, and asked her, "Come home with me? I want to wake up next to you."

Gizelle was half tempted to bolt, and she started to get to her feet, but he pulled her back down, saying, "No you don't. We're going to have a conversation one day about what makes you want to run, but tonight you're coming home with me. Yes?"

"Yes." She heard a voice whisper, thinking it sounded like me. Where the hell did that come from? Run, damn it!

She tried to force one foot in front of the other, and made very slow progress toward the door.

"Whoa, where are you going, love?"

"I don't know. Away."

He caught her in his embrace, asking, "Why? Why can't you stop running?"

"Feelings are a trap. I won't be able to escape. I'm too tired. Let me go."

He held on tighter, wondering how she had come to this.

"Mataeo, please let me go."

"I will not. Do you hear me? I will not let you go. I realized, last night, that you are everything to me. I've never known anyone who needed love so desperately, yet refused to accept it. What happened to you?"

Gizelle bit her lip and turned away, "I can't. It's too... Let me go, please."

"Jesus!" He picked her up and sat her on the bed. "If I could, I'd nail your feet to the floor."

He held her tightly, until she relented, resting her head against his chest. "Please, Gizelle, give me some idea of where to begin. I want to love you, but I'm scrambling in the dark. Let me in, just a little bit. Please?"

Gizelle wondered how she could lay these horrors at his feet, and felt guilty for even wanting to.

"Please, baby girl." He brushed the hair from her face, and looked into her terror-filled eyes, all the way down into her soul.

She tried to think of a way to begin. "I was in college. It was the night before finals. I accepted a date. No, not a date. A quick drink."

Her eyes were riveted to her hands clasped in front of her, and she took a deep breath. Mataeo pulled her closer, holding her head against his chest.

"And what happened, love?"

She wrung her hands, fighting for words. "And I thought, what could it hurt? One drink? It was the worst decision I've ever made."

"I'm so sorry, sweetie. Talk to me. I'm right here. Lean on me."

He waited patiently, knowing instinctively that to push her was to lose her forever.

"He drugged my drink. I don't remember anything, until I woke up. I was in a storm shelter underground, I think. I screamed and screamed but no one heard me."

"Holy God Almighty! Gizelle, really?"

"Yes. Do not invoke God. I prayed every day and he abandoned me. I have no forgiveness for him."

"I'm so sorry, love."

"Thank you. He tortured me and eventually, I hoped he would murder me. I wasn't that fortunate."

"We have to call the police. You have to report this."

"No! I'm not repeating this to a bunch of cops! They're all worthless! They abandoned me!"

"Okay Honey, calm down. Let me think for a minute."

Gizelle wrapped her tiny hand around his fist, just needing to touch him. "Mataeo, I'm sorry. I just can't."

"Okay love. I'm going to go to the authorities and explain what happened. I will ask if we can record your answers in advance. You don't have to face any of the cops. I'll do it for you."

Gizelle shook her head vehemently.

"My love, we do have to involve them, or you'll be running for the rest of your life. Let me help you, please. Trust me just a little bit?"

She thought about it, letting his assurances wrap around her, and she arrived at her conclusion, I want a future with him. I'm tired, and I don't want to have to keep looking behind me.

"Do you promise I don't have to face the cops?"

"I promise. I'll figure out how to get this done."

It was the worst confession he'd heard in his life, far worse than anything he had imagined, and he held her for a long time, holding her together, while enormous pieces fell away from her. He let her weep silently, lending her all of his strength.

Gizelle was petrified, and not strong enough to do this alone. She wondered if Mataeo could handle it this way, asking herself, What do I do if I have to testify? And she tried to drive the thought from her mind.

Finally, she straightened her back, looked him in the eye, and said, "Okay. I'll try."

"That's my girl!" Mataeo was thrilled. He'd finally penetrated her walls, and he kissed her deeply.

Weeks passed and Gizelle buried herself in work. She'd designed new menus, ordered kitchen supplies, scoured floors and walls, and painted the interior. It was cathartic, and she'd needed every minute of it.

Closing time neared, she hung up her apron, and Mataeo cleaned off the tables, when the large man with black hair walked in, blocking the light behind him in the door frame. Gizelle froze. Oh, God!

She flew out of the room, through the kitchen, and bolted for the back door. Mataeo caught her by the waist, just as she blew through the door. She squeezed her eyes shut, screaming to bring down and stir up Heaven, earth, and hell, writhing and fighting him like her life depended on it.

Mataeo shushed her, hauled her into a room upstairs, and slammed the deadbolt home, keeping one hand over her mouth.

He put her back down on her feet, and held her tightly. "It's okay, Gizelle. It's just me. I'm here, love."

She shivered with wild eyes flashing, and he knew she was beyond comprehension. He pulled a flask off a nearby shelf, ordering, "Drink, it's going to calm you."

She couldn't pry her hands from around him, and he took it as a good sign that she recognized safety in him. He held the flask to her lips, giving her as much as she could take. Finally, he laid her down on a cot, told her to lie still and left the room, bolting it behind him.

He went to address the man, wanting to punch him right in the face. "Sir, we're closed."

The man stood and laid down the menu. He fished a photo out of his pocket, asking, "I'm looking for her. Have you seen her?"

"No, never seen her before," he lied.

"Take another look. People in town said they seen her here."

"No sir. She's pretty. I'd remember her. Now, it's time for you to move on."

Mataeo shuffled him out the door, ran to bolt the front and back, grabbed a bottle of liquor from a locker, and returned to Gizelle. She was weeping into a pillow, and he sat down to hold her, thinking, however long it takes, I'm in. "You're okay, love. He can't hurt you. I'll kill him before he can get near you."

She wept for a long time, and he replenished the flask at least once, thinking, it's sure as hell not the best solution, but it's the only one I've got right now.

Gizelle slept for twenty-three hours, and he checked on her every hour, worried he had given her too many shots from the flask.

Mataeo stood by the cot watching her chest rise and fall, ensuring her breathing was even, and he brushed a strand of hair back, just to touch her momentarily. He knew she hadn't slept well since before her ordeal began. He let her rest, bolting the door behind him, just to ensure her safety.

He never saw the man again, but never stopped feeling like he was lurking in the shadows, waiting. He thought, I'm exhausted from a few weeks of this. She's lived it a lot longer than I have.

Finally, word arrived that the police had made an arrest. Mataeo went there alone, to make sure they had the right man in custody. They did.

He returned home with flowers, and the card tucked inside read, "It's over. The demon is in custody. You're free."

Gizelle was filled with trepidation. "What if it's the wrong guy?"

"I checked. He's the right guy."

He took her hand, saying, "Let's close the diner for a week. We can use a vacation."

She readily agreed, finally accepting that her torment was over, and she hugged him until she was scared she would squeeze the life out of him. "Thank you, Mataeo. I could never have done this without you."

"You're welcome, baby girl. I'm going to make the reservations, and leave it up to you. Do I book a honeymoon suite?"

"Yes!"

"Yes! She finally said yes!"

He lifted her up and spun her around, and she asked, "Will there be another lesson in trust," with her eyes sparking a challenge.

"Abso-fuckin-lutely, baby girl!"

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