I take a step closer, my hand already lifting, hovering just above her forehead. I could brush the strands of hair away. I could press my lips to her skin, just for a second.
But I don’t.
Instead, I think of the ways I can ruin her life, just to have control over it, because that’s all that matters anyway.
Right?
Right.
I pull back, curling my fingers into a fist.
Then I slam the door shut.
The sound shatters the silence, a deliberate violence in the quiet of the house, not caring if it wakes her. I hope it does. If I’m not allowed peace, then she shouldn’t be allowed it either.
Two sides of the same coin.
Outside, the air is cold against my skin, but I welcome it. The car is waiting at the edge of the drive, headlights dim. I slide into the back seat without a word and light a cigarette.
The driver pulls away.
It’s going to be a long fucking night.
Martine Lilian Huntington-Russell
I wake with a jolt, realizing quickly I’m in the comfort of my bed, residual heat still clinging to my skin. My breath catches, disoriented, my fingers gripping the sheets as my mind scrambles to piece together where I am, how I got here.
The bath. Hayden. Hayden and I. Hayden inside me. God, I'm still aching from it.
Glancing down under the sheets, I notice the blossoming bruises on my thighs, deep imprints from his unyielding grip. Higher up, dangerously close to my most sensitive skin, lies a stark, unmistakable bite mark. My pulse quickens, a mixture of excitement and unease flooding my chest. I bite my lip, forcing down the shiver that threatens to overcome me.
Pressing a trembling hand to my forehead, I inhale sharply, willing myself to steady my emotions. I must have drifted off, my body too spent, too thoroughly exhausted from him, to resist the pull of sleep. That realization unsettles me deeply, not just that I allowed myself to slip into vulnerability, but that it was Hayden who put me here.
A chilled glass of water sits waiting on the nightstand, and next to it, a single pill. I recognize it instantly, a muscle relaxer. My mother used to rely heavily on these to numb her body, to blur the edges of her reality. Annoyance flickers briefly through me, suspicion prickling that Hayden is trying to keep me sedated, to ensure I won’t have the strength or inclination to leave.
But as I consider my battered body, still throbbing from what he put me through, my irritation melts away. I reach out, swallowing the pill without hesitation, chasing it down with a greedy gulp of water. I'm too tired to care about his motives.
Shifting slightly, I hiss sharply as pain radiates between my legs, a vivid reminder of Hayden's brutal possession. Carefully, I test the limits of my battered body, cataloging each bruise, every lingering soreness.
Unbidden, I recall the way Hayden's arms felt beneath me as he carried me to the bath, the unexpected warmth of his touch, gentle despite his harshness. He'd eased me into it, treating me with surprising care rather than disdainful dismissal.
That wasn’t nothing.
No matter how often Hayden insists I'm merely an object, his actions betray something else. There's intention behind his every touch, every cruel yet precise movement. But Hayden doesn't do tenderness, not truly. Any softness from him always comes layered beneath cruelty, disdain masking genuine care. It's his twisted way of tearing me apart, rebuilding me only to break me again. Unfortunately for him, I'll never grant him the satisfaction of witnessing me yield.
I’ve already lost the people who mattered most in my life. I'm all that remains standing. Ford and Dex ensured I was resilient, teaching me to withstand pain without flinching, head held high, spine straight.
I survived my father's controlling cruelty and watched helplessly as he inflicted endless suffering on my mother. I watched as Ford and Dex dedicated themselves wholeheartedly to a secret Society, only to see that same Brotherhood discard them without mercy, tossing them aside as if their sacrifices meant nothing.
If I'm sentenced to a life devoid of consent, forced from my home and everything familiar, I'll claim the choice as my own. I’ll twist it, manipulate it in my favor. I won't break, I refuse.
Blinking slowly, I brush damp strands of hair from my face, my heart still unsteady. My gaze drifts toward the doorway, half-expecting to see Hayden there, arms folded, face set in a scowl, ready to utter something cutting. He has a way of knowing how to say something devastating enough to shatter the moment we shared when he stole my innocence.
I refuse to believe his lie, to say this was mere practicality. I felt the care behind the cruelty.
But he's not there. Of course, he's not.
I wonder if he'll always be this cruel. I wonder if I'd even like him without it.
