Theodore ate my pussy on the kitchen island before fucking me bare on the stair's railing. I can still feel the harsh wood cutting into my stomach with each powerful thrust before he carried me to the top.
Right where I saw Beth’s bloody face, Theodore laid me down, pinning my arms above my head where her body rested. I know it’s in my imagination, but it’s like I can feel her, the warmth that leaked from her insides heating my spine.
That sensation didn’t last long because as soon as my back hit the floor, Theodore shoved himself to the hilt, impaling me on his throbbing cock.
I begged for more while he punished my body, needing my tears of ecstasy to wash away the memories of our crime. He needed it too, the violence, the pain. It’s the only way to feel okay… by fucking the demons away.
I saw it in his eyes, the desire to fuck this night out of existence.So I let him. I allowed him to ravish me wholly until I was nothing but pounded flesh. He drank down my tears while stealing my very last breath. I let him give me life, breathing his into mine. Theodore was gentle and vicious, loving but hateful. I became his toy to use and abuse, and I fucking loved it. I would happily bleed for this man, because everything I am belongs to him anyway.
Still on the hardwood floor, Theodore flipped me onto my knees, propping me up like an animal in heat. Then, he slowly shoved his angry cock in my ass, using my dripping juices and spit as a lubricant.
His tip was almost too much for me, but just as I was ready to quit, his skilled fingers started to play with my aching clit. Soon, what was a fierce, overwhelming pain became the most unbearable pleasure.
Taking his time, Theodore filled me from both ends, gliding two fingers into my core while his length took the only part of me untouched.
“You’re mine now, pretty girl,” he said, pledging it with a bruising kiss.
I can still feel him in every part of me as I rouse from my sleep. There isn’t an inch of my body that he hasn’t claimed as his. He made sure of that last night.
It’s ten in the morning now. Only two more hours until my interview with Detective Rubio. I should be nervous, but instead, I’m the most relaxed I’ve ever been.
Feeling untouchable, I rise out of bed. Then, wearing nothing but Theodore’s clothes, I prance to the bathroom, needing to do my morning routine before showering.
I showered around four-thirty at his house, leaving all my clothes behind with the promise that he’ll take care of them. I also left the tools with him, bringing nothing but my empty backpack back home.
Other than the angry swelling around my ankle, raging bruises along my chest, and the palm-sized welts on my ass, there’s no proof last night even happened. As far as anyone knows, I was locked in my room with no method of communication.
I feel bad for lying and deceiving my parents, but they should know better. After all, they raised me to be this way, resourceful, driven… too clever for my own good.
After a speedy shower, I stand in front of the mirror and pinch the skin around my eyes, making them appear swollen and red, as if I’d spent my night crying instead of burying a body.
I hear my mother’s steps coming up the stairs through the bathroom walls. They’re lighter than my father’s and yet, that much more terrifying. It’s definitely because she’s my mom, and everyone knows there’s nothing scarier than a pissed-off mother.
Her knock comes as I’m throwing on my favorite dusty blue pullover sweater. “Come in!” I shout, stumbling through the door with my leggings wrapped around my ankles.
I always thought my mom had kind eyes, especially when she looked at me. The love she carried shined through the brown and golden swirls of her hazel stare. She always gazed upon me as if I was her greatest joy, like I could do no wrong.
I wonder if that’s how she feels about me now? Am I still perfect in my mother’s eyes? Or am I ruined because I crave a man’s touch?
The love she used to display isn’t there anymore. Now, all I see is the detached stare of a woman searching for a girl she used to know.
“Come down for breakfast before your interrogation.”
Her steps are as silent leaving as they were coming, only this time, she isn’t simply walking out of my room. I can picture her walking out of my life. I hope that isn’t the case, but honestly, I don’t know how they’ll accept Theodore and me now, not after all the lies.
The strain around the breakfast table isn’t only felt, but witnessed. I catch it in the pulsating vein on my father's temple, its vibration so strong that I can see the blood flowing under his skin.
My mom displays her stress differently. Her entire body shakes while she rips at the skin around her nails. Blood begins to drip down her finger, staining the floral porcelain plate before she even notices what she’s done.
I feel like I should say something. No matter what I’ve done, I don’t want them to hate me or Theodore. If I could get them to understand what he means to me, maybe they’ll alter their views on the situation.
“Theodore never hurt me….”
“Scarlett,” my father warns, bending the fork under his ferocious grip.
I ignore his cautionary tone, continuing with my defense. “He made me feel good. He took care of me.” Emotion begins to clog up my throat, but I push through. “He-he loves me.”
“He doesn’t love you, Scarlett. He never did,” my mother hisses, slicing me with her savage stare. “He was using you because you’re pretty and young. You madehimfeel good! Not the other way around.”
