2. Chapter 2 Kamilla
Chapter 2: Kamilla
L ife was now a special kind of hell. I had known it would be bad, but even in my darkest moments, I could never have imagined the depths of depravity that Piotr would drag me to. The first time he took me was an exercise in brutality. He fucked me like he was trying to break me, like he wanted to punish me. I lay there and took it, my face buried in the pillow to muffle my screams of pain. I let him use my body and when he was done, when he had spilled his seed inside me with a grunt of satisfaction, I curled into a ball and wept silently into the blood-stained sheets.
Piotr quickly realized that it would take more than a rough fuck to bring me to heel. He set about making my life a waking nightmare, determined to crush my will.
"You think you're so tough, don't you?" he would sneer, his fingers digging into my arm. "It’s been two days. No one is coming for you and no one cares about you. Natasha has left you. She saved herself and gladly sacrificed you.”
I would meet his gaze without flinching. "And what does that make you, Piotr? A sad, small man playing at being a king?"
His face would darken with rage, his grip tightening until I thought he might snap my bones. I never let him see me wince, never let him know how much he was hurting me. I had learned long ago that men like him got off on pain, on fear. And I refused to give him the satisfaction.
He took particular delight in tormenting me about Natasha, in using my love for my niece as a weapon against me.
"I wonder how she's doing, your precious little princess," he would ask. "Do you think she's happy with the Irish, as they use her as I’m using you? Do you think she hates you for sending her to them?”
I would clench my jaw so hard my teeth ached, fighting down the urge to scream at him. To tell him that Natasha was better off with the Irish than she could ever be with him, with any of us. I knew the Emerald Queen would protect her in a way that I never could. She had power. I had none.
"The Irish are many things, but they would never harm a child. Especially not one under the protection of their queen."
Piotr would chuckle, his breath hot and rancid against my ear. "Ah yes, the Emerald Queen. Tell me, Kamilla - do you ever wonder what it would be like to be her? To have that kind of power, that kind of influence?"
I would go still beneath him. "I don't want power," I would say, as the truth would just bring me more pain.
"Liar," he would hiss, his hand tightening the grip on my throat. "You forget, I know you. I see the darkness in you. You're just like me, deep down. A predator wearing the skin of prey."
"I'm nothing like you, Piotr. I may be a monster for killing my husband, but at least I own it. At least I don't pretend to be something I'm not."
His face would twist with rage, his fingers digging into my windpipe until darkness blurred the edges and my lungs screamed for air.
The hours turned to days and the bruises on my skin didn’t have a chance to fade, before they were replaced by fresh ones.
I was so tired.
I only hoped Natasha was safe. I had never met the Irish Queen, but Anatoly and Natasha had once. I had gone with them, but remained in the car with my guards, as an Irish guard also stood by. He had starred at me through the tinted window. I hated everything he stood for, everything he represented. The Irish were our enemies, they were savage and uncivilized, barely a step above the basest criminals and thugs. That’s why I knew. I knew I was close to breaking when all I wished for was for the Irish guard, the one who had stared at me through the window, whose body I knew could protect and shelter me, to lean down and take me anywhere but here.