For a moment she was so shocked that she could not do anything. She sat amazed, eyes wide open, not moving a muscle as he mashed his lips against hers and leaned in closer, pressing his body against hers. A hand settled on her shoulder and started wandering slowly along her collarbone.
That brought back to herself. Pulling back was not an option—she was caught between him and a small mountain of pillows. With difficulty, she braced herself against them and pushed against his chest, trying to to get free. His hands grabbed her wrists and pushed them back against the pillows. Fear fluttered in the pit of her stomach at the ease with which he was able to hold her down, and it was making her angry. She twisted her head back and forth, making angry noises against his lips. Finally she broke free and she turned to the side, gasping for air.
"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, breathless.
He ignored her and dove down again, capturing her lips in his and kissing her passionately. His fingers teased the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrists even as he held them back
She broke free again.
"Stop it!" she yelled. "Let go…" His lips cut her off again. Furious, she screamed against his mouth and bit down hard on his lower lip.
He roared in surprise and pain and sat back, bringing his hands to his lip. Wasting no time, Sarah sprang for the side of the bed. She managed to get one leg on the ground, but the other was still tangled in the sheets—the bed was high off the ground and it was difficult to keep her balance. As she fought to get her leg free, his hand closed her wrist with a bruising grip. She winced and bit back a cry as he yanked her towards him so that she half fell back onto the bed.
"How dare you!" he yelled, his face inches from hers and contorted in anger. Blood trickled down his chin.
"How dare you!" She tugged angrily at her wrist. "Let go of me, you sick—"
A hard, cruel blow caught her in the cheekbone, cutting her off. She let out a short, wordless cry of pain and froze.
Then he released her arm, and she curled into a ball and brought her hands, shaking, to clutch her cheek. It felt like that part of her face had exploded.
For a moment, all she could do is lie there, her face on fire and her heart trying to pound its way out of her chest. Through the blood was roaring in her ears she listened fearfully for any word or signs of movement from the Goblin King—but for there were none. The only sounds in the room were the soft, ragged gasps of her breathing as she took deep, shuddering lungfuls of air.
This is so wrong she thought. He's all wrong. I don't remember him being this way before. She had been frightened of him before, of course, when she was running the Labyrinth. But it had been a safe kind of fear. She remembered now that there had been something about him that had attracted her to him as well, a feeling that had budded and fluttered within her belly and made her feel awkward and uncomfortable when he drew close. She had been barely more than a child, with no experience with those kinds of things, and he had been so mysterious, so attentive. Afterwards, she had had dreams…
But she wasn't that girl anymore. She had changed, grown up; she hadn't thought about him in more than a decade! What had he grown into? Or had he been like this all along, only she hadn't seen it?
She tried to focus instead on how she might get out. He said this was a dream, she thought. That means I can wake up. What would it take to wake me up? After the punch she just took, she knew that pinching herself was not going to get the job done.
Ok—if I can't wake myself up, maybe I can wait him out. If I can get to the Labyrinth, I might be able to hide. She glanced furtively at the room's heavy wooden door—it was maybe fifteen feet from the bed? Could she get to it before him? Was it locked?
Hearing the low groan of weight shifting on a mattress, she flinched—he was getting up—he was coming around to her side of the bed. She scrambled backwards in the bed, pushing through the pillows, but very soon she felt the headboard against her back and there was nowhere else to go. She glared up at the Goblin King.
"Stay away from me!"
He paused, leaving a few feet of distance between them. She had expected him to be either apologetic or still angry, but the look on his face was one of exasperation, how she might look at a puppy that chewed on her shoes.
"Sarah," he said, sounding disappointed and a little resentful. "This is not how I envisioned our first night together." Her stomach twisted. Where did he get off saying things like that after what he had done—what he was doing. She couldn't look at him. She heard him take another step forward and flattened herself against the headboard. He sighed, and said patiently. "Let me help you, and I will explain."
She did not reply, but she was too afraid of setting him off to move away when he closed the distance between them and bent down. Gently, he took hold of her hands and pulled them away from her throbbing cheek. She shook as he touched her, but forced herself not to pull away.
He placed her hands carefully in her lap and smoothed the tangled blankets before sitting down on the bed in front of her. As he moved around her, Sarah kept herself as still as possible, sitting stiffly and staring back at him, wary eyes brimming with unshed tears. When he reached out a hand towards her face she flinched, and a tear shook loose and rolled down her cheek.
He frowned, as though the sight annoyed him, but he again said patiently, "I only wish to help."
He reached out for her face again. With difficulty, she kept herself still as his fingers brushed against the throbbing, already swelling place where he had struck her. She winced as he pressed firmly, but surprisingly his touch didn't hurt-where his fingers traced over her cheek, they left behind a comforting warmth. A strange, though not unpleasant tingling sensation gradually replaced the pain. When he took his hand away she touched her cheek and was surprised to feel only a slight tenderness, as if the injury had happened weeks instead of minutes ago. He chuckled.
"Sarah, Sarah," he sighed, smiling sadly and shaking his head. "I warned you I could be cruel."
Her mouth twisted, and more tears fell down her face. "What is going on?" she asked helplessly, holding up her shaking hands. "What am I doing here?"
He smiled at her fondly and patted her hand. "Allow me to explain."
He began an elaborate tale, starring himself as the hero. After the first few grandiose sentences she began to tune a lot of it out, but she got the gist. His proposal to her in the strange Escher room had been a sincere offer of partnership. How he had been shocked when she turned him down, but assumed she had misunderstood him due to her youth and inexperience. How he kept watch over her as she grew up—this was where she had turned away from him and stared into the fire—but how he had been unable to make any contact with her. It was forbidden, he said, for him to contact former runners. They were protected by rules he was bound to obey.
He stopped at this point, as if waiting for her to prompt him with questions. When she said nothing, did not even look at him, he continued, sounded somewhat disappointed.
"I searched for thirteen years," he said, "until I found a way around the rules. So that I could see you again." He stopped again and stared at her, as though waiting for a reaction.
"Don't you understand now, Sarah?" he finally said. "Don't you see everything I've done for you?" He looked at her impatiently.
"For me?" she asked, her voice rough from screaming and tears.
"Yes, Sarah," he said urgently, "For you, it was all for you. From the beginning! Do you think I answer the call of every fifteen year old girl?"
"You didn't have to take Toby?" she asked, incredulous. "You took him…because you wanted to?"
"No, Sarah. Because you wanted it. I told you then. I only ever did what you asked!"
"What I asked?" Anger rose inside her again, overwhelming her fear. "What I wanted?! You can't possibly believe that!"
"Can't you see that everything I have done, all of it, has been for you?"
"You did it for yourself!" She cried. "You wanted me, so you took me. How can you sit there and tell me that I want this?"
"You still do not understand," he said urgently. "I did it for love."
"How can you say that?" She was crying again, tears falling freely down her cheeks. "All you've done since you brought me here is hurt me! How can you believe that stalking me and kidnapping my little brother—and now me—has anything to do with love?"
He stared at her, the color rising in his face. "Why do you insist on not understanding?" he asked heatedly.
Sarah looked into his blazing eyes and could only shake her head. She wanted to put her hands over her ears and pretend this wasn't happening. "Send me home," she said, sobbing, "I want to wake up-please, Goblin King-" His hand whipped out and he struck her across the face. She screamed.
"Stop calling me that!" he roared. Sarah cowered and cradled her face. Warm blood smeared against her palm; one of his rings must have torn the skin. A split second later he was grabbing her shoulders, bending over her, trying to kiss her again. She struggled.
"No!" she screamed. "No—stop it—God damn it, stop! I don't love you!"
He stopped as soon as the words left her mouth, letting go of her shoulders as if she had burned him. Not stopping to see his reaction, she launched herself off the bed and hit the ground running for the door.
She didn't make it.