Chapter Five #3
Derek’s hand clamps around my throat, squeezing hard as he throws me down on the bed.
His fingers graze my pussy—cold, clinical, searching for nothing but his own satisfaction—before he thrusts into me, rough and unyielding.
There’s no pleasure, only pain, a raw, burning ache as he takes away my air.
I can’t breathe—I’m gasping, clawing at his arms, panic rising as black spots dance behind my eyes.
I don’t want this, please—the only thing I feel is the agony radiating through my body as he fucks me, his grip on my throat making it impossible to scream.
My vision dances in and out, and my body goes limp.
When he finally groans and cums inside me, it’s a relief and a humiliation all at once.
He lets go, and I gasp, gulping in air, my chest burning.
He climbs off without a glance, tossing a t-shirt at me.
“Clean yourself up,” he snaps, already getting dressed, walking out, and leaving me alone.
I stumble to the bathroom, numb, every step heavy and disconnected from my own body.
My hands shake as I clean myself up, scrubbing at skin that doesn’t feel like mine.
The harsh light of the mirror finds every mark—tonight’s fresh red handprint, the bruises already blooming on my throat, the faint shadow from the last time I dared to say no.
I barely recognize my own face. Each mark is its own humiliation, a silent scream I can’t let out.
I want to cry—scream, even—but I choke it down, swallowing the pain because there’s no one left to hear it.
A single tear slips down before I can stop it, but I swipe it away fast, refusing to let it linger.
My father’s old words creep in—‘this is what you were made for, my princess’—and I shove them down, burying the ache with all the others.
Shame and rage twist together inside me.
I want to disappear, to be someone else, someone unbreakable.
But all I can do is wrap myself in a towel, sit on the edge of the tub, and wait for the shaking to stop.
I don’t know how long I sit there, staring at the floor, but the ache doesn’t go away.
It just settles deeper, a hollow, gnawing thing that might never leave.
Derek storms in, turns on the shower, and barely spares me a glance before barking, “Get out.” I slip from the bathroom, closing the door behind me, numb and invisible.
My hands shake as I walk down the hall to my room, shutting the door softly behind me.
I move on autopilot, pulling a T-shirt and baggy sweats from the drawer and slipping them over my skin as if the soft fabric might shield me from everything raw and exposed inside.
The clothes don’t make me feel safe; they just make me slightly less breakable.
My mind flickers back to the shadowy figure outside.
For a moment, I almost let myself believe it could be Alex—that maybe, impossibly, he’s come back for me.
But I know that’s ridiculous. He’s been gone for a year, silent and unreachable.
If he cared, he wouldn’t have disappeared without a word.
I sent a few texts after that night at the club and in the weeks after—just a few, all delivered and unread, never a response.
Still, my fingers hover over his contact as if muscle memory alone could conjure him back.
Against my better judgment, I type out, Was that you?
—but deep down, I don’t believe for a second it really could be.
I don’t wait for a reply. I step out onto the back porch, needing air, trying to steady my nerves and banish the impossible hope nagging at me.
There’s no way it could be Alex. He’s just a ghost in my head, a memory I can’t let go of.
But then, out of the darkness, someone steps forward—and it’s really him.Holy shit.
He looks even stronger than I remember, more real and solid than any dream.
My mind refuses to believe it’s actually him—I’m convinced my exhaustion is playing tricks.
I can’t speak. My heart races, my mouth goes dry, and all I manage is to stare at him, completely stunned.
“Hey, darling,” he says, his voice sending a shiver down my spine, as familiar and unreal as a song from another life.
When I finally find my voice, it’s sharp and cold—anger spilling out before I can stop it. “What the hell are you doing here, Alex? You have no right to just show up after a year. You disappeared without a word. You don’t get to waltz back into my life as if nothing happened.”
Alex just smirks, not missing a beat. “Why? Is it gonna piss off that piece of shit inside? I saw what he just fucking did.”
“Leave,” I bark, my voice sharp with fear—Derek will lose it if he finds me out here with Alex.
“I just wanted to see you, and I’m glad I came,” Alex says, his tone growing more lethal.
“Why now?” I snap, anger still bubbling over as I keep glancing anxiously at the door. “You disappeared, Alex. You don’t get to just show up.”
Alex steps into me, but his voice softens. “Darling, how can I help?”
How can he help? The question almost makes me laugh. He can’t fucking help me. The universe seems hell-bent on putting me in impossible situations.
“I’m getting married,” I bite out, my jaw clenched. “You need to leave. I’ve done just fine without you. I don’t need your help.”
Alex lets out a low, humorless huff. “Yeah? Says the bruises on your face and throat. He do that often, Ayla?”
“This is none of your fucking business,” I snap, my voice shaking with fury. “You need to go. Now. Leave, Alex. And don’t come back—I mean it.”
I don’t wait for him to answer. I turn, storm inside, and lock the door behind me without looking back, hands trembling with anger and heartbreak.