Sitting up, I look around and see it’s light outside. How long have I been out? Minutes? Hours? Days?
There’s a bottle of water on the nightstand with two Advil and a note that says Take these and drink this.
I want to write back and tell him to go to hell. Instead, I guzzle the water and take the pills. Getting to my feet, I stumble to the bathroom. Fuck, places on my body I didn’t even know existed hurt.
After using the bathroom, I push my back into the wall and slide down it to sit by the toilet.
I feel sick.
Disgusted with myself. Why can’t I control it?
I don’t blame Kashton. I blame myself. It’s my body. I should be able to deny it what it wants. I’ve done it for years now. I shouldn’t want to be his pathetic plaything.
My eyeline drops to my thighs, and I see the bruises. They wrap all the way around, and then there’s a bigger one in the center. What did he have on my legs? I see the ones wrapped around my wrists, and they look just as bad.
You’re a fucking whore.
That bile rises, and I swallow it down as my eyes begin to sting.
You’re nothing but a fucking useless whore.
“No,” I say, leaning forward to bring my knees up and place my head on them. My fingers dig into my hair, pinching my scalp, trying to drown out his voice, but it’s no use.
The devil demands to be heard. Even if he whispers into your ear for only you to hear.
Sixteen years old
I’m sitting in my bed when my bedroom door opens. I scramble to my feet when I see who enters. He slams the door shut and locks it.
“No…please.” I run for my bathroom door, trying to put more space between us, but he’s faster.
Just as my hand wraps around the doorknob, his fingers fist in my hair, and he yanks me back against his front.
I scream, kicking my legs out and digging my nails into his forearm. His other hand slaps over my mouth and nose, cutting off my air as his fingers dig into my skin.
“You think they give a fuck if you scream?” He laughs, dragging me back over to the bed. “They’re just waiting for their turn.”
He throws me onto the mattress, and I suck in a burning breath as I crawl across it. He yanks me back by my ankle and pins me down with his heavy weight, shoving my face into the bed.
When I no longer have the strength to fight him, he turns me over, and I blink my blurry vision away while I cough and choke, sucking in air.
He stands at the end of the bed, unzipping his jeans. “Now let’s see if the hormones that bitch has you on are working.” He slaps me, and I lie before him, taking it, knowing there is no escape from this hell.
He’s the roughest. He just likes to beat women. They are nothing to him. Grabbing my ankle, he pulls me off the bed and onto the floor, knocking what little wind I had left out of me.
“Whores get fucked on the floor.” He chuckles. Then he flips me over onto my stomach and pulls my arms behind my back, where he holds them in a tight grip that will leave me bruised. “Don’t you dare fucking come. This isn’t about you, you stupid bitch.”
Silent tears fall down my face when he spreads my legs with his and the sound of my screaming fills the room over his grunts.
“Eve?”
My hands are grabbed and pulled from my hair. “No.” I kick my legs out, shoving him away.
“Eve.” Hands grip my face and force me to focus on what’s in front of me. “Hey, angel.” Kashton speaks softly; his pretty blue eyes are full of concern while they search mine. “You’re okay. I’m here.”
My shoulders fall, and I bury my face in my hands, trying to hide from him. Unable to look him in the eyes.
In a perfect world, he would love me.
