Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

Naked.
Clenching my thighs together, I cover my breasts with my palms,
glancing around the room for my clothes. The backpack I had on at the house
sits unzipped on a dresser beside the bed, empty.
There’s a single, circular window in the wall beside my head, and I reach
out, pushing the shade up to look out, confirming what the dread in my bones
already knew.
I’m on a plane.
My stomach leaps into my throat, blocking the air from my dry mouth; I
struggle to inhale, an image of plummeting through the air playing on repeat
as I stare into the white clouds, marring my view of the earth below.
Gathering the sheet around me, I slide out of the bed, standing still for a
moment while my body gets its bearings. My knees wobble, my entire being
rebelling against our airborne state, but also powerless against it.
Using the mattress as an anchor, I shuffle to the dresser and pull open the
drawers, hoping to find something of mine inside.
But they’re all empty.
Why would he tell me to pack, just to take my things away?
Frustration spills into my bloodstream, bringing heat to my cheeks as I
spin in a circle, trying to figure out what to do now. One peek into the
bathroom shows an immaculate granite shower stall, toilet, and a compact
sink in the corner, but again no clothes.
Well, not my clothes, anyway.
A single pair of black boxers and a black T-shirt hang on the shower
door, the plexiglass wet with condensation. My belly cramps at the thought of
Kal stripping bare and showering mere feet from my sleeping form.
He never fully undressed during our one night together, as if still trying to
keep some of his mystery intact. It always made me wonder what he thought
he was hiding.
I’d been flayed wide open, literally, while he’d remained as tightly
wound as ever, making my body bend for his in ways I hadn’t known it
would.
Flushing at the memory, I move so the inside of one thigh rubs against the
other, sensitive, mangled flesh grating against smooth skin.
I should’ve run the second he drew the blade against me, but the slight
pain it caused was erased by the immediate feel of his tongue trailing after,
keeping me from bleeding onto my bedsheets.