But I didn't stop fighting, either.
The second I could breathe again, I lunged. I bucked beneath him, twisting with every ounce of strength I could find. My fist landed somewhere solid. Maybe his ribs, maybe his face. And for a split second, his balance faltered. I heard him grunt, felt his grip slip.
I almost threw him off.Almost.
I twisted again, elbow driving up, knees kicking at anything they could reach. My pulse roared in my ears, and all I could think was,Get him off. Get out. Now.
Then something pressed tight against my neck. A second later, I felt it digging into my windpipe. My breath stopped. My hands flew up instinctively, clawing at leather, fingers scrambling to find something to grab.
A belt.
I didn't even know where it came from. But it was cutting off my air, and his weight held it there. Both of his hands pulled it tight on either side of my throat.
I thrashed harder, nails digging into his wrists and arms, legs kicking blindly. My body screamed for oxygen, for leverage, for anything. But every second that passed made the fight tougher to hold onto.
His grip didn't ease. The belt dug in, sharp and unrelenting, and the edges of my vision turned into static. The roar in my ears turned into a high, keening pitch that made it impossible to think. My limbs flailed, then faltered. I bucked again, but it was weaker this time. Too slow. Too sloppy.
"You keep fighting," he muttered, low and sharp, "and Iwillmake you sorry."
My lungs burned. My hands slipped. I tried one last desperate twist, but my body wouldn't follow through. My vision tunnelled. I couldn't see his face anymore. Just shapes. Shadows. Pressure.
Everything in me started to go limp. My chest jolted in a useless attempt to suck in air. My fingers twitched, but they couldn't catch anything. The edges of the room faded, washed out by the hot, black weight pulling me under.
Finally, he lifted the belt.
Air rushed in too fast. I choked on it. Coughing, gasping, sputtering through the burn. My whole body jerked as I tried to breathe again. My vision cleared enough to see Marcus go still over me, breath steady, eyes blank.
He grabbed my shoulder and flipped me onto my stomach like I weighed nothing. My arms moved instinctively to brace myself, but they barely had a chance to hold me up before he yanked them behind my back. The belt slid around my wrists and cinched tight. Rough, fast, practised.
The leather bit into my skin. I winced, but it barely registered past the pain in my throat and the ringing in my ears. My body tensed out of reflex, but the fight had already bled out of me. I couldn't stop him. I couldn't even sit up. My chest heaved as I tried to draw air in steady again, but my head still spun, and everything felt off-kilter.
The mattress dipped as he leaned over me. I felt him move closer, and his hand slid along my back. Then up into my hair. I forced myself to stay still, even as the panic threatened to claw its way up my throat.
I couldn't get out of this. Not right now.
So I shut it down.
The walls came up, and I pulled what was left of myself behind them. I wouldn't shout again. Wouldn't beg. Wouldn't give him the satisfaction of another reaction.
He leaned down, breath hot against my neck. "Next time, I won't be so gentle."
I didn't move. I focused on the pillow under my cheek, the sting of the belt around my wrists, the numb ache where the leather had dug into my neck. I counted my breaths. One. Thenanother.
Just hold still. Let it happen. Get through it. Deal with it later.
I suddenly became aware of his hand as it drifted lower. His fingers curled around the waistband of my trousers and pulled.
The panic hit, sharp and absolute. It filled my throat, crawled up the back of my skull, clamped around my ribs. I pulled at the belt even though I knew it wouldn't budge. My legs twitched, but there was nowhere to go. Nothing I could do. I was exposed. Helpless.
I managed to stay quiet. But in my head, I was screaming.
* * *
I stared at the wall, barely blinking and lying as still as I could manage. Everything hurt, and I felt wrung out. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears in the heavy silence. The belt still held tight around my wrists, digging into already sore skin every time I took a breath.
I listened to the faint sounds of movement in the other room. The creak of a floorboard. Then the soft click of a light switch. I held my breath as I waited.
Then, finally, I heard his bedroom door close.
