“Wash!” Sandman thunders.
I coast the fluffy white cotton between my thighs, tears pouring unchecked down my cheeks. He records, blazing irises cutting a path through the thick steam. He looks almost unearthly, like a fallen angel.
“Enough.” Sandman stands, stowing his cell phone in his back pocket. “Go lie on the bed.”
This is it. He’s going to take my virginity—violate me in the worst way possible.
I hobble from the bathroom, favoring my right leg, dripping puddles of water onto the floor in my wake.
Sandman is a walking tornado at my back.
“On your stomach,” he instructs me.
I climb on the bed and lie facing the wall, listening to him undress. Blood swooshes in my ears and more tears come. This isn’t real. I’m home, asleep in my bed, having a bad dream.
No, this is real, Zilphia.
“I don’t want to lose my virginity like this,” I say more to myself than to him.
Words won’t sway him. He craves vengeance and not even an extinction-level event is going to stop him from achieving it. The mattress dips as he straddles me, his rock-hard length sliding against my bottom. My spine snaps straight, my hands clutching the sheets in a death grip. A familiar sting just below my nape jolts me into action.
“No, please don’t cut me again!” I wail, thrashing beneath him.
The knife’s tip being pressed against my temple stills me. “Move again and I will gut you like a fish.”
“I’m sorry,” I sob, bawling my eyes out. “I’ll keep still.”
“Your body is my canvas and I’m going to paint it bloody red,” Sandman proclaims, then commences his torture, reciting each letter he carves down my spine. “L, Y, I, N, G, S, L, U, T. A fitting moniker for you.” I recoil at his derisive laughter. “You’re a lying slut, aren’t you?” He latches onto my nape, digging nails into my flesh. “Say it.”
“I’m a lying slut!” I cry out, wincing against the pain.
His big body covers mine, pressing me into the mattress. “I’m not going to take your virginity tonight,” he rasps in my ear. “I’m going to take it when you least expect it. I want you afraid every fucking second, not knowing when I’m going to claim that sweet little cherry.” I feel his dick nudging at my puckered opening. “But I am going to take this.”
Sandman thrusts forward, savagely ripping into my rimmed entrance. I scream the loudest I’ve ever screamed in my entire life, the impact sending a bone-jarring jolt through my body. He grunts and snarls, hips bucking wildly against me, but he’s too big for my virgin muscles.
“Fuck,” Sandman hisses, pushing to his knees. “Too tight.”
I look back, watching in horror as he smears my blood all over his dick.
“Please, no more,” I croak, barely able to speak. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want, huh?”
“Yes.” I let my head fall onto the pillow, fatigue overpowering me.
“Tempting offer,” Sandman states, sparking hope in my chest. “There is something I want above all else.”
“What?”
“Your pain,” Sandman growls before stabbing his erection through my muscular ring.
He violently rocks into me until he’s fully seated. I wail in agony, helpless under his pressing weight.
My former confidant is well and truly gone—and the blame falls on my shoulders. I created the perfect storm, and now I’m stuck in the middle of it.
“I know everything about you,” he taunts, slamming against my rectum with so much force my vision doubles. “Your father’s downfall. Losing your house. The tables have turned, and this time, it’s you who’s going to get burned.”
I black out again and again, my body’s only defense against his brutal onslaught. It’s never-ending. My screams cease, vocal cords too inflamed and swollen to emit sound. The sick rhythm of blood and flesh, his resounding grunts, and my broken mewls make for a dark symphony.
