Chapter 1 #2
If he tried to touch me the way men like him always did—like my body was something to take, to test, to own—
I would rather die.
A violent spasm seized my stomach, as though some unseen hand had twisted a dagger deep within.
Because some things didn’t leave scars you could see.
Some things stayed buried under your skin, rotting quietly, waiting for the smallest trigger to drag you back into that dark, suffocating place you fought so hard to escape.
I had buried those memories.
Locked them away.
I would not let him dig them out.
Not again. Not ever.
Bruno’s rough, iron grip snapped beneath my chin.
I gasped sharply as he forced my head upward, the pressure immediate and bruising, his fingers digging in like iron.
My entire body went rigid.
Bruno’s breath hit me a second later—damp, and foul. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Something bitter underneath it all.
It turned my stomach so violently I had to fight not to gag.
“You truly are a fascinating creature, aren’t you?” he said, his voice low and mocking, amusement curling through every word. “A prodigiously capable blind woman—that’s what they call you.”
His thumb pressed harder against my jaw, tilting my face as if he expected my eyes to meet his.
As if I could see him.
As if I needed to.
“I’ve heard all the stories,” he went on, his tone shifting into something almost conversational—like this was entertainment. “The blind intern who works twice as hard as everyone else. Never complains. Never asks for help.”
His grip loosened suddenly, and I sucked in a quiet breath as he let go.
But the relief didn’t last.
I heard it then—the slow, deliberate sound of his shoes against the floor as he began to circle me.
One step.
Then another.
Unhurried.
Like he had all the time in the world.
“Walks home alone every night,” he continued, his voice moving with him, shifting around me, forcing me to turn slightly to keep track of him. “No escort. No protection. No fear.”
He moved behind me.
I felt it instantly—the change in the air, the subtle pressure of his presence at my back.
Too close.
My shoulders tensed, every muscle locking as instinct screamed at me to move, to create distance—but I forced myself to stay still.
Running would only excite him.
“And lives all by herself...” he added, his voice dropping lower, closer to my ear now. “...in this quiet little apartment.”
My pulse spiked.
“...like she’s normal.”
The word landed like a slap.
He stepped in front of me again, so close I could feel the heat of his body.
Then—
Click.
The sharp sound of a lighter flicking open cut through the silence.
A second later, the faint crackle of flame.
Then the inhale.
Deep. Slow.
And the smell hit me almost instantly.
Smoke.
Thick. Acrid. Suffocating.
It curled around me, seeping into my hair, my clothes, my lungs. My eyes—useless as they were—still stung reflexively.
I refused to react.
Refused to cough.
Refused to give him even that.
Bruno exhaled slowly, deliberately—right in front of my face.
I felt it.
Warm. Violating.
Like he was marking space that wasn’t his.
“Well, well, well...” he murmured, satisfaction threading through his voice. “I see you are still standing. Still clinging to your pride.”
A pause.
Then his tone shifted—mocking.
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’m feeling generous tonight.”
My stomach dropped.
“If you apologize to me right now...” he continued, dragging the moment out, savoring it, “...properly—on your knees, maybe—I might go easy on you.”
He went on, his voice dripping with cruel amusement:
“Something like...” he drawled, exaggerating every word, “‘Oh, Sir Bruno, I had no idea it was someone as powerful as you who honored me with a touch. Forgive this stupid blind girl.’”
My hands curled slowly into fists at my sides.
“Say that,” he finished softly, “and maybe I’ll only make you pay a small price for embarrassing me in front of everyone.”
I said nothing, but inside me, fear coiled tighter and tighter, squeezing my lungs, clawing at my ribs—yet beneath it, anger burned hotter.
I let out a slow breath.
And then—
I smiled defiantly and tilted my head slightly toward where his voice had last come from.
My fingers curled tighter.
“Mr. Bruno, you assaulted me publicly, in front of everyone,” I said calmly.
“You treated me as though I were someone without dignity, without rights. I know exactly who you are—the brother of the richest man in this city. I know your family’s name opens doors, buries scandals, perhaps even makes people disappear. ”
I tilted my head slightly toward him, my smile faint but unyielding.
“But I am not someone you can humiliate and simply walk away from as though it meant nothing. What you did was wrong. It was a violation. And if slapping you bruised your ego...” I let out a slow breath. “Then perhaps it was deserved.”
My voice remained far too calm for the speed at which my heart was racing.
“I’m not sorry for it,” I said evenly. “And I will not be apologizing.”
“Oh... really?” he murmured.
Before I could react, his hand lashed out again.
His fingers clamped around my chin, harder this time, forcing my head back sharply.
Pain shot through my jaw.
A soft sound escaped me before I could stop it.
My skin crawled violently, a wave of revulsion crashing through me so strong it nearly knocked the breath out of my lungs.
“Mr. Bruno...” I forced the words through clenched teeth, my voice strained but controlled. “Bullying a blind woman alone in her own apartment is hardly a display of strength. You know perfectly well I am not your equal physically.”
I swallowed hard, my nails digging into my palms to anchor myself.
“And for the record, I do not enjoy being touched. Not casually, not forcefully—not at all. Especially not by men. So I would appreciate it if you stopped gripping my chin as though you intend to leave your fingerprints carved into it.”
His hold tightened anyway.
“Take your hands off me,” I managed, each word edged with steel despite the tremor beneath it.
For a split second—
He let go.
The sudden absence of his grip was so unexpected it almost felt unreal, like the air itself had shifted.
My chin throbbed where his fingers had dug in, but the pressure was gone.
Relief rushed in—
And vanished just as quickly.
Before I could even draw a full breath, his hands seized my arms with rough, violent force.
A sharp gasp tore from my throat as he wrenched them behind my back, forcing my shoulders into a painful angle that made my muscles scream in protest.
“Ah—!”
Cold metal snapped shut around my wrists, the unmistakable clicks echoing one after the other before the realization struck me—handcuffs.
The realization settled heavy and suffocating in my chest.
The chain between them tightened as he pulled my arms higher, the metal biting into my skin, unforgiving and deliberate.
My first instinct was to struggle.
To fight.
To twist free—
But I stopped myself.
What was the point?
I couldn’t see him. Couldn’t predict his movements. Couldn’t calculate distance or timing the way I usually could with everything else in my life.
Blindness didn’t make me weak.
But in this moment—
It made escape nearly impossible.
So I stilled.
Forced my breathing to steady.
Words were all I had left.
He dragged me backward across the room.
My heels scraped against the floor, unbalanced, disoriented, my shoulder joints protesting sharply with every step he forced me to take.
Then—
He shoved me hard.
I fell into the armchair awkwardly, the impact knocking the air from my lungs as my bound hands trapped behind me twisted painfully against the backrest.
A broken breath escaped me.
The cushions that once felt safe now felt like a cage.
I tried to adjust, but the position was wrong—my shoulders pulled back too far, the chain cutting into my wrists every time I shifted.
The room filled with thick, heavy smoke that swallowed the air around me.
Each breath tasted contaminated, making it harder to think clearly.
“I see you’re stubborn,” Bruno muttered as he paced back and forth in front of me, each heavy step carrying the sharp edge of barely restrained anger while he sneered, “Just like they said—the blind intern with too much pride.”
He moved even closer to me—so close I nearly retched from the suffocating proximity—before stepping away again.
“But that’s alright,” he went on, almost thoughtfully now. “I like breaking things that think they’re strong.”
My jaw tightened.
The chain between my wrists shifted as my fingers curled slightly, testing the restraint.
No give.
Of course not.
“I’ll break that pride,” Bruno said, more quietly now—but the softness made it worse. “Piece by piece if I have to.”
He stopped moving.
I could feel it—the stillness, the focus of his attention locking onto me like a weight pressing down on my chest.
“I’ll crush every bit of ego in you,” he added, voice dropping lower, darker, “until you’re crawling at my feet... begging.”
Silence stretched between us while my heartbeat filled it—slow, loud, and painfully controlled.
“And tomorrow...” he continued, his tone shifting again—colder. “At the office—”
“When I walk in, you’ll drop to your knees right in front of everyone who watched you fight back today, and you’ll apologize loud enough for every person in that room to hear exactly how badly you were broken.”
“You’ll tell them,” Bruno continued, almost lazily now, like he was reciting something already decided, “that you’re nothing but a worthless, blind little slut who doesn’t know her place.”
The words hung in the air—ugly, rotten, and waiting to crush whatever was left of me.
I said nothing.
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of the response he was waiting for.
Instead, I faced the darkness that had been my world for months.
I had survived things far worse than Bruno and whatever twisted method he intended to use to break me.