He guided me from the hotel, past the pretty fountains for the second time. The water no longer danced; it lay still, peaceful in its wet bed.
My stomach churned. Thoughts rushed in my head as we rushed through the fresh-scented lobby of our hotel. He hurried me. We were both eager to get me out of this outfit, for different reasons.
The elevator doors opened instantly. He pushed the button to our floor. He let go of my hand, turning to face a mirror on the wall. He fixed the straying strands of his dark hair, as I rubbed away the pain.
I pulled off my glove and gifted it to the carpet. The discoloration of my bruises stood out against my skin. I thought over a painful past, and in that very moment, I knew I wanted a different future.
Bing.
The elevator sounded as we reached our stop.
“After you.” Hell motioned for me to step out, figuring I wouldn’t disobey.
I thought he’d have known me better.
I didn’t turn to see his anger as I took off down the hallway, praying to find a staircase.
Lifting my too-long dress as I ran, I struggled in my heels. My heel caught on something I didn’t even see and like the most useless character in every horror movie, I stumbled to the floor. The predator neared. . . my horror movie was just about to start.
He rolled me over, his hands groping fiercely at my body as he positioned me to sit on my sore bottom. He crouched between my open legs and spoke, his voice heavy with his accent and exasperation.
“Jolie, Jolie, Jolie, Jolie. I’m trying so hard to give you a little freedom. But you keep proving to me that you don’t fucking deserve it. Don’t make me kill you before I have to. We still have some time to be together.”
No one was around to see him pull me from the ground and toss me over his shoulder like I was a bag of rubbish, ready for the trash. No one saw him drop me into the princess position and carry me over the threshold to our room, placing a kiss in my hair as he held me close. No one saw him drop me to the ground, causing pain to my internal injuries before he kicked me like a soccer ball, hard into my ribs, causing more. I rolled into my corner. Into a space free from penalties. . . or so I thought.
I closed my eyes, drifting away. . . far a-fucking-way as he bellowed across the room, smashing and breaking everything in sight.
I trembled in the darkness of the room for what felt like hours. I sat, alone and scared, facing the painted walls. His words echoing on repeat in my head. . .we still have some time to be together.He was already anticipating my death, something he’d never done before. . . was that a cursed fate or a blessing disguised?
A touch graced my skin, and it didn’t cause me pain. . . it brought peace. My fantasy was here to save me, to transport me to a made-up land, where pain didn’t exist between us.
My subconscious tried to encourage my dream man to shift to my side. But he didn’t move. . . I did, as I was pulled from my dream into a nightmare.
I was thrown onto the bed, recently changed of its wet sheets. Bedside lamps werelit to reveal the creature moving around the room. His luminous skin glowed in their light, persuading me he wasn’t all darkness.
I didn’t believe the lies.
His shirt was off, his pants slipping down, revealing his defined Adonis belt. He looked like a god, a warlord who fed on pain. . . mine.
“It’s our wedding night. We should be enjoying this time together.”
I resisted the urge to voice how much I hated him. But the look on my half-hidden face screamed of everything I was holding back.
I was frozen on the bed when he loomed above me. His fingers were wrapped around the knife from his earlier threat. . . his promise.
He raised it high, bringing it down towards my stomach. He cut through the material of my dress, and I screamed. He’d accidentally punctured my skin. A wound that was only a centimeter deep bled out. I blinked away tears, taking in the assault through blurry eyes.
My staggered breaths hit him in the face; they were my only retaliation against his violence.
He pulled the blade from my skin and tossed it to the ground, planting the hidable droplets within the red fibers, just like I’d thought.
I practiced controlled breathing, but my breaths still came out harsh and fast. Red tears ushered themselves from my open wound. He dipped his hands inside the skirt of my dress and ripped apart the material. The rip sounded in the air; the dress flayed at my sides.
He slid down my body, his lips moving to my fresh injury; he licked away the blood before sliding further down my body, taking my French briefs with him.
“Your skin is so soft,” he said, staring at my crotch before looking back to my stomach. “It’s so easy to make you bleed.”
“Why do you always want to hurt me?”
