Page 5 of Moss

Fuck her. Break her. Make her mine.

The thought in my head screaming is so loud it’s blinding. My ears rings as I let go of her as if she just lit me on fire. Confusion mingles with fear on her face as I turn away, locking the door behind me.

*This book is an advance reader copy and is to not be distributed anywhere. [email protected]*

3

Chapter Three

Crybaby - Lil Peep

Penelope

My eyes open slowly, as I blink away the grogginess. I panic for a brief second when I’m met with the darkness, only to realize the room itself is bathed in darkness. I slowly prop myself up, surprised to be met with the softness of the sheets. Flexing my wrists, I don’t feel anything around them. It’s confusing, but I’m grateful nonetheless.

I lean into my other senses, feeling the pillow under me, the soft blanket over my stomach. The air smells clean, fresh. Everything around me feels clean. My eyes catch on the soft glow emanating from what looks like a bathroom.

I pull the blanket off me, pushing my feet out and slowly standing on them, testing their ability to hold my weight. I lose my balance and fall back onto the bed. Determined, I stand back up and stay up this time. I wobble slightly, but keep my balance. I slowly move towards the bathroom and stop in awe when I see what’s producing the glow.

New York City stands in front of me tall, filled with the bright lights of life. I saw the city once. On my fifth birthday. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and it’s just as beautiful right now. I always lived on the outskirts of the city, never able to explore the beauty of the city.

The building lights shine brighter than ever. Turning back to the bathroom, I see a floor-to-ceiling glass shower looking like it could fit ten people with room to spare. It has marble sitting benches and little shelves on the wall behind it. A waterfall shower head sits on the ceiling. Marble tiles cover the floor, with a water drain in the middle.

I’m in awe of the beauty until the storm of the past couple of days comes flooding back.

I panic when I realize I must be in someone’s room. They seem to be powerful, having what I assume is the best penthouse in the city if the view is any indication.

My head snaps back to the dark room, my eyes trying to see if the boogeyman is lurking in the emptiness, waiting to grab me.

I move slowly into the bedroom, my eyes focused on the bed I just got out of until a soft green glow fills the air. I look to my right and see the green glow of a mask. The same mask Riot was wearing when he took me.

He tilts his head slightly. The small motion only causes my fear to intensify. He slowly stands up, and I see just how fucking huge this man is, making me shrink in my spot. My legs start to tremble beneath me as my feet drag backwards to the bathroom.

“Hi there,” His thick Russian accent cuts through the quiet air. My instincts take over, and I try to make myself look as small as possible, my eyes filling with tears.

He walks towards me slowly, but fast enough to make me panic. Frozen to the spot, his rough hands circle my waist, pulling me to him. I try my best to ignore his obviously growing erection pressing against my stomach, as my fear keeps growing, thinking he’s going to force himself on me.

I feel the warmth of his skin under my fingertips. Little zaps of electricity tingling my fingers.

His mask tilts to the side again. I can almost see his eyes through the mask. They look dark, but they search mine with something I can’t recognize.

Like a switch was flipped, he lets my waist go, and he pushes me away as he storms out the door, slamming it behind him. Locking me in here. Panic rises in my throat as I start to walk towards the door, my hands reaching for the handle. I twist and turn it with no luck. I’m still stuck. Still a prisoner.

I sink to the ground, crawling my way to the furthest corner of the room. The light trailing in from the bathroom is soft. My eyes finally close and I allow myself to give in to the exhaustion that never seems to stop plaguing me. It’s not comforting, but it’s better sleep than I’ve gotten since Mom died.

I wake up to the room brighter. The daylight finally peering in. The bedroom curtains are now open, revealing the jaw-dropping sight of New York City through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Looking around the room, finally being able to fully see it.

The bathroom door is on the right wall, the bed to my left in the middle of the room. A desk sits on the right wall next to a door, which I assume leads to the rest of the house. A huge plate of delicious-looking food sits on the desk, still steaming.

That gets my attention instead of the windows. The most I got with Dad was old, soggy eggs and some stale bread.

A slice of pizza sits on one plate, a slice of cake and some strawberries on another, and a third plate with breadsticks and marinara sauce. Just the sight of it makes my mouth water.

Greedily taking the slice of pizza, I start shoveling it in my mouth, barely chewing before swallowing it.

I haven’t eaten a lot these past several years, the single slice of pizza was the equivalent to what I’d eat in a week, so it quickly filled me up.

Ignoring the fullness, I chug the water and dive into the breadsticks. I quickly polish off the strawberries and make it halfway through the cake before I physically can’t eat anymore. I sat back, my stomach bloated from the food.