Chapter 4 #3
He raised it high, bringing it down towards my stomach. He cut through the material of my dress, and I screamed. He’d accidentally punctured my skin. A wound that was only a centimeter deep bled out. I blinked away tears, taking in the assault through blurry eyes.
My staggered breaths hit him in the face; they were my only retaliation against his violence.
He pulled the blade from my skin and tossed it to the ground, planting the hidable droplets within the red fibers, just like I’d thought.
I practiced controlled breathing, but my breaths still came out harsh and fast. Red tears ushered themselves from my open wound. He dipped his hands inside the skirt of my dress and ripped apart the material. The rip sounded in the air; the dress flayed at my sides.
He slid down my body, his lips moving to my fresh injury; he licked away the blood before sliding further down my body, taking my French briefs with him.
“Your skin is so soft,” he said, staring at my crotch before looking back to my stomach. “It’s so easy to make you bleed.”
“Why do you always want to hurt me?”
“I like the taste of your blood. The sound of your screams.” He licked his lips, disappointed to notice that there were no traces of me left there.
He lowered his body a little more. The heat of his mouth was too close to my naked pussy. I forced my ass into the mattress, keen to get away.
He took the hint, for once.
He moved his mouth to meet my stomach. His fingers held me securely in place as he circled my penetration with the tip of his tongue. He dipped inside me, slowly stretching my wound another centimeter, and I struggled to conceal the squeal lurking in my mouth.
He pulled back, his lips a bloody mess. He’d never eaten my pain before; he had no interest in the taste of my blood. . . just my fear, and that was layered on a plate before his very eyes, ready for him to swallow whole.
He laughed at my misery. . . sadistic and cruel. A haunting sound that was painful to my ears.
My fingers twirled the bedsheets around my hands, my thumbs brushing over the soft material, giving me something to focus on to get through this.
He slinked between my thighs, parting them. Lowering his mouth, his eyes dropped, studying the shape of my intimate area.
“Messy. . . well, that’s unfortunate fucking timing, isn’t it?”
My eyes moved, trying to see what he was seeing without me moving. Blood was staining the bedsheets below me. White sheets were becoming red.
It was too much to be from his assault earlier. It was heavy. It was a period.
“Well, I guess my wedding gift will have to be owed.” He took another glance, and he smirked, undecided on his next move. “Unless. . .”
“You don’t want to do that.”
“No. I don’t. You’re right. Your blood isn’t quite that tasty. And you don’t really deserve the pleasure, do you? Not after your behavior at the casino earlier.”
“What did I do?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know. It’s why our fun evening was cut short. Did you think there was no reason for my outburst? Did you think I wanted to destroy the pretty little room for fun?”
“I don’t know what I did. . .” I told another lie.
And he saw through it instantly.
Hell
She was always such a shitty fucking liar. A dirty liar. A whore. Worthless, to everyone but me, but her value was lessening each time she fucked me off.
“I won’t be made a fool of.”
“I haven’t tried to make a fool of you.” Her fingers moved to her bleeding stomach, concealing the pain. Her hand acting like a band-aid on her punctured skin.
“Are you in pain?”
Her nostrils flared; she struggled not to blink, not to let the pain obviously express itself by allowing more tears to slide down the roundness of her cheeks.
“Let me. . .” I diverted her touch, guiding her down to her bloody cunt. “Keep your hand there; get yourself excited for me.” My stare dared her to disagree, but she didn’t. She nodded. How compliant. . . such a nice fucking change to her constant need to challenge me.
My eyes stayed on her cunt, forcing her cooperation. She was glad I wasn’t looking at her face. Her shame was heavy, resting on each of her pretty features. Because she knew as well as I did, she’d been eyeing up another fucking guy.
She played with nervous hands, her middle and forefinger dancing in her own blood. She beguiled me, but I couldn’t let her into my head. If she got in there, she’d worm her way through my body, until she found what she was looking for.
And if she did that, my fun would be over.
The bleeding of her wound slowed as I moonwalked my fingers to her injury.
“Do you want to lie to me again?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Jolie. . . I’ve been fair. I’ve given you chance after chance. I’ve given you a long rope, and yet, you’ve chosen to try and hang yourself with it, repeatedly. Stop fucking lying to me!” My tone grew violent. My eyes lifted, meeting hers as a wandering pinky pushed inside her small stab wound.
She screamed—another for my collection—as my finger hurt her more than the blade. I moved slowly, stopping at my first joint.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. . . I don’t know what I’ve done, but I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”
Another fucking lie. I pushed in another finger and debated stretching my fingers apart.
Her skin was already ripping under my violent touch.
I was so tempted to stab my fingers inside her.
The need to do so had me shaking. The temptation to damage someone who hurt me taunted me in ways I never could repress.
“This is your last chance. Remember, the other punishment!”
Jolie
The room was dark. Black, like his soul.
The silhouettes of modern furniture glowed under the illumination of the busy street beyond the glass.
I didn’t look to the window, to the people below on the other side.
I couldn’t. I was far too jealous of their lives.
. . lives, I knew nothing about, except for the fact that they were better than mine.
I’d rested, if you could call it that, on this bed for hours.
My eyes flicked to Hell. His body had slumped at my side, both of us buried beneath a thin sheet; his arm—a dead weight—lay draped over my waist, proving his claim on me. He was out of it. Lost in a deep sleep. . . somewhere without me. . . if only I could be somewhere without him.
He was huddled close to my left side, like a lover holding me close. But he was the opposite. A hater. A man who thrived on my agony and misery and pain.
I blinked, capturing the image of his face, peaceful and unstrained–the opposite of how I was feeling.
“Why couldn’t you have fought harder to be the better version of you,” I whispered, hoping he wouldn’t hear, but secretly wishing that if he did, he’d have a justifiable answer.
“The person I loved so much. Why couldn’t you be what I need you to be?
Why couldn’t the hero come out on top, not the monster? ”
A flurry of tears danced through the dark, creating clear trails over my skin. My still made-up image would harbor streaks in the morning, putting more stains on my appearance.
Tonight, had been a hard night. . . for me.
And lingering pains continued to echo throughout my body.
After Hell enjoyed my wedding gift to him, one I didn’t want to give—my body—he gave me a gift of my own.
Something to keep me quiet when my turmoil kept me awake tonight—a tablet, that allowed me to read books from online stores.
An escape from reality and from my daydreams. For a split second, I liked that he remembered my passion for reading, and then, for the whole night, I hated myself for feeling that way.
The device was preloaded with untraditional romance stories. Initially, I was relieved that it wasn’t horror. I’d seen so much of that already, and not on the pages of a book but in the real world.
The big, bad world.
Now, after reading half of one of the romances, I wasn’t sure horror was any worse than romance.
That said, I wasn’t sure the story I’d chosen to read was actually a romance.
I couldn’t understand how the woman in the story was falling in love with the man holding her prisoner, but with sleep evading me and me already halfway through their story, I’d soon find out.
Sullies of red still coated my fingers as they tapped against the lit-up screen, turning the page of my eBook.
Hell
It was easy to pretend to sleep while she was quiet, lost to a land of make-believe.
. . just like always. Transported to a world I’d sent her, but this time, she wasn’t alone.
She was accompanied by the words on an electronic page; they guided her way into a story she didn’t understand yet, but maybe in time, she would.
I let out a heavy breath, but I kept my eyes closed.
I didn’t want to see the rage on her face if she was to find her courage and try to smother me with the soft pillow from beneath her head.
I didn’t want to see the hate that I’d seen so many times before.
I just wanted to feel something else. Something I’d been denied since my conception.
Something different. . . before it was too late and life snatched her away from me forever.