“You did good,” he says. “Don’t mess it up now.”
The words taste like poison. I want to spit them back, but I nod instead.
Screaming would only earn me another locked door, another man explaining who I’m supposed to be.
So, I go back. Sit beside Rory. Smile until my face aches.
I survive the rest of the night by going numb.
When I finally escape, the silence hits harder than the noise.
Matteo’s still there, in the back of my mind. His mouth. His hands. The way he looked at me like I was worth saving. He’s still under my skin. A bruise that won’t fade. A promise I never asked for.
Now the blue dress clings like punishment, the ring slicing my finger raw.
I’m reaching for the sink when the door opens.
No knock. No pause. Just Rory.
He shuts it behind him, slow, deliberate. “Thought we could celebrate properly,” he says.
My stomach drops. “No.”
“Don’t be like that.” He steps closer.
“I said no.”
His fingers dig into my arm. “We’re practically married.”
“Get off me.”
He doesn’t. He grins instead, empty, cruel and his hand cracks across my face.
The sound splits the room. My vision flashes white. Blood fills my mouth. “You’ll learn,” he says. “When it’s time.”
Then he walks out.
I lock the door with shaking hands and slide to the floor.
“I’m not yours,” I whisper. “I’ll never be yours.”
Outside, thunder rolls. I look up at the storm and wonder if Matteo feels it too.
I sitat the edge of my bed. The sting’s gone, but the heat under my ribs hasn’t cooled. It burns steady, like someone pressed a cigarette into my ribs and walked away.
They’re going to kill me.
And they’ll get away with it.
I crawl to the window and shove it open. The air hits hard, sharp as glass. The cliffs whisper below, same as always.
Matteo.
His name alone hurts. I see his face without trying. Feel his touch, the heat of it that refuses to fade.
I type fast:
You saidyou’d send me to the slaughterhouse if you kissed me again.
