For the Dream of 5 Years: Chapter Thirty-Four: Unconscious

"Here, some baby oil curvy girl. I need a massage, please," Dan said, handing Michelle a bottle of baby oil. She used a reputable brand with Dave whenever they needed a massage or applied after a shower. It would be all giggles and laughs when they massaged each other. This time, with Dan, it would be a willing client and unwilling service provider. For a moment, she did not see the attractive biceps, triceps, and six packs. She did not notice the full beards on his well-defined chin. She barely noticed his brown eyes, the tender and gentle voice. She was no longer drawn to him; he was a bad person that held her captive. "Some other time, I am not in the mood right now, Dan," she said, turning away. "Okay, too bad, coz I am in the mood for two things, sex and massage. I need you to massage me first because I need to rise to the occasion physically because my mind is already there," he said, turning her to his side. "I will do no such thing! I will not have sex with you ever again!" She shrieked, sitting up on the bed. "I have never forced myself on anyone, Michelle, don't turn me into an animal. I want you to ask for it, to want it, and to get wild with me. I don't want to hit you. Don't make me hit you," he said, holding on to her thighs so tightly that he left his fingerprints on her tender skin. She watched as blood rushed back to the fingerprints on her thighs when Dan let go. "Do what you must! I will not consent to it. I don't want it; I don't like it, and I won't have it with you!" She yelled. "Okay, you leave me no other choice! Remove your clothes!" He yelled, unbuckling his belt. "I said I will do no such thing! If you are a man enough, make me! Tear them like you did the first day," She screamed, moving closer to him. She could feel her adrenaline rush to all parts of her body. She was breathing fire. She was ready to fight and get her freedom. She shoved Dan by the chest with a violent push, and he staggered and fell to the floor. There was a loud bang, his head or back had hit the table next to him, but Michelle proceeded to hit him between his legs so violently with her foot. He didn't move, and he didn't make a sound; he just lay there, legs apart and hands on his sides. Michelle ran fast to the bed cabinet to look for the keys. They were not there. "If the keys are not here, and the door is not locked, I could find them in another room," she mumbled, picking up her clutch bag and heading out of the door. The hallway to the table room was nothing like she had seen the previous times she had passed there in Dan's arms. It was as big as an entire street. She was amazed by how sparkling clean the floor and the walls were. She wondered how a house could look so clean without any cleaning employees. She opened one room along the corridor; it was a replica of the room she had spent a few nights. She opened another room; the same. They had the same arrangement, the same furniture, and were of the same size. She didn't open another room; she ran to the living room at the end of the hallway. She had glanced at this room before, just like the others, sparkling clean and white as snow. The only difference was the arrangement. It had two big theatre-size screens on the walls, one near the door and another at the other end of the room, just where the hallway started. The seats were massive, and the 'good wood' tables were well designed. It was a room full of pieces of art. She was amazed by its beauty. A round table in one corner, near the wine bar, had all sorts of wooden animal carvings. It was beautiful, artistic scenery. She stayed here longer, admiring every piece. Then she looked at the wine bar with expensive wine brands worldwide. Dan had never given her wine; she had never seen him drunk. She wondered who they were bought for. She looked for the key all over the place; it wasn't on the seats, the tables, the bar, or flower pots. She decided to get inside a room opposite the living room. Her jaw dropped to her chest when the door pulled ajar. There were tens of photos of her on big posters on the walls. Her photos were taken as a baby, in school, in her wedding gown, and alongside her jeep! There was nothing more beyond the Jeep day, which made Michelle realize he had taken those photos from her social media sites before she pulled them down when she learnt about Shanice. The photos had been enlarged; some had been technologically edited to strip her sexy body in a bikini. Some were airbrushed, making her look like a fairy-tale princess. Some had Dave cropped out, and Dan fixed in. It was an art gallery full of one celebrity, Michelle Kagiri. She was lost in thoughts; she wondered if Dan was a stalker, had bipolar, OCD, and was a psycho, all at once. Then suddenly, a thought flashed in her mind. "If the keys are nowhere in the house, then they must be inside his pocket," she thought and started walking back to the room, so quietly not to alert Dan of her return. Maybe Dan was already looking for her, perhaps carrying a gun or a machete ready to attack. She was scared but went inside anyway. To her shock, Dan was still in the position she had left him in, his feet and hands unmoved. He moved over and lowered herself to search his pockets effectively. Then suddenly, her eyes caught the blood behind Dan's head, seeping into the carpet underneath. She let out a scream. "Oh my God! Don't die. What happened to you? Where is my phone? I need to call someone. You need to go to the hospital," she said, turning him over to inspect the extent of the wound. "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, this is bad. This is bad; how do you stop bleeding in the head?" She panicked, holding her head in disbelief. "Dan, Dan, please wake up! Dan, where are the keys or the phones?" She asked, shaking him gently on the shoulder, but there was no motion to indicate he was alive. She bent over and placed her ear on his nose, but all she could hear was the loud poundings of her heart. She put two fingers on the side of his neck to feel his pulse and suddenly released a long sigh of relief when she felt a sign of life. She took a pillow from the bed and turned him to the side. She raised his heavy, bleeding head to push the pillow under him, but something stopped her, her clutch bag still under her armpit. She threw it at the wall angrily and gently managed to put Dan's head on the pillow. She took a bed-sheet and used it to put pressure on the wound. She studied the wound to see if she could see the brains seeping out, but luckily the wound was minor. "Why is he unconscious? She wondered. Then she rushed out of the room to the Wine bar; she had seen in a certain TV program that when a cloth soaked in alcohol was placed in front of the airway of an unconscious person to sniff, they regained consciousness. She poured a substantial amount of alcohol on the bed-sheet and placed it near his nose. He did not move; he did not regain consciousness. Michelle panicked. She could not control her trail of thoughts. When the authorities eventually arrived, she thought about hurting herself and claiming it was self-defence. She thought of pouring cold water on him. She thought of finding the keys, running away, and leaving him to fate; after all, nobody knew she spent the night here. Then she remembered one of her first aid lessons in primary school many years back, about not moving someone with a spine injury, putting pressure on the wound, and tilting a patient's head back to open the airways. She turned him to face the ceiling, tilted his head back, and bent his top legs, so his knees and the hips were at right angles. She prayed to God, crying. Then she remembered about CPR. She removed the pillow beneath his head and performed CPR on him. "One, two, three, four, five, she counted, then gave him a mouth-to-mouth kiss of life. She was unsure if it was okay to give mouth to mouth to someone other than those of drowning cases, but she took no chances and gave him anyway. "One, two, three, four, five, she counted between sobs. When she couldn't get him conscious, she lay beside him, placed his bleeding head on her chest, and cuddled him, waiting for death to take him in peace. She cried and prayed for him, asking God to bring him back. He didn't.