The men who owned my nightmares.
When my dad’s voice didn’t call me from my purgatory–the nightmare I lived while desperate for death—I’d slip away into a wonderland that wasn’t real. An alternate reality, where I was different, where I was loved. A place where Woodrow was always loving, and this entity never took him over.
I faked courage, opening my eyes to face the man–no, the monster—in front of me. “What am I doing here, Hell?”
“I’m glad to see you recognized me.” He smiled like it meant the world to him. “Family are meant to stay together, Jolie.” His eyes moved back to my face, ignoring the mess I made of the sheets.
“We are not family.” Those words were easier to voice.
“I thought you might say that.” His touch lifted as he moved from the bed where I lay.
I sat up, trying hard to disguise the vibration in my limbs, caused by my trembling nerves. But it was impossible. I was almost bouncing off the bed with tremulous fear.
I didn’t move from the bed as Hell stood in the window, his tall stature and dark aura blocking out any sunlight as he watched me watching him.
A concealed outfit rested on a chair at his side, the bag zipped up to the hanger. He pulled on the zipper, his eyes still on me as he moved his arm to reveal a dress.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for my answer. “Beautiful, black, beguiling. . . just like you.”
His words would be soothing if they were spoken by any other human, or without such hate lingering on each vowel. I shuffled with discomfort, moving upwards and away from my wet patch. My handstried to rub the chill from my icy skin, but I was colder than ever, despite the stuffiness of the room and the heat from the bright sunshine outside.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. As I said, family should be together.”
“And as I said, we aren’t family.” I faked more courage to voice those words.
“The hard way? I guess you’ve missed the discipline; I was told you rarely caught attention back at your previous housing. Always so well-behaved.” He paused for a moment. “It’s just my hands you like on you, huh?”
I remained silent, having nothing to say to a man who didn’t deserve my words.
“We aren’t family,” he repeated. Walking towards me, the dress in hand. “Yet. We will be by tonight, my darling bride. Now, put on the fucking dress. Don’t make me tell you twice. I wouldn’t want any more bruises put on your body before the wedding pictures.”
Hell shoved the dress into my chest, his touch caused me to gasp. My legs rushed me back until I hit the giant headboard.
“Wedding pictures!” I think my heart stopped for a whole minute when those words registered.
“Wedding pictures not something you’d want?”
“I don’t want the wedding!” I spat my hatred around the room, unable to keep it inside now that I knew his plans.
Jumping to my feet while my knees still shook, I rushed for the door on unsteady limbs, tossing the ugly dress, that probably wasn’t that ugly, to the floor.
It had been years since my running days; years since I’d barely moved, at all. I spent so much of my time with my head bowed, praying to the gods of hell who owned my tortured soul, never to be sold or even touched again.
I got to the door, proud that I’d moved so quickly. It was hard after suffering a knee injury at eighteen—one that never fully healed.
My fingers were quick to wrap around the golden handle.
I released the latch, and my shaking fingers pulled back the wood. My heart raced in my ears, preventing me from hearing anything else. I didn’t hear him rush behind me; I didn’t hear the laugh that left his lips as he slammed the doorshut while my fingers were still holding it.
I heard nothing until my scream pierced the bubble of hope I had floating around me.
His hand wrapped around my mouth, around my face, large and overpowering, and silencing me. He could feel my scars. He could feel my pain as my wracking sobs echoed from my chest into his, where they’d have plenty of space to roam in the heartless cavity, and plenty of company because he harbored so much of my pain already, treasuring it all like his greatest memories.
“Are you going to shut the fuck up? Or shall I give you a real reason to scream? There’s no getting away from me. It’ll never happen, Jolie. Never. I’ll never let you slip away again. You are mine. Always have been.” His tone was sinister, promising. “Nothing you do will ever change that; do you understand?” his inflection altered as he moved closer, nuzzling into my neck.
I cringed but ignored him as best as I could.
For all of a minute.
