Henry’s hand grips my hair and yanks me violently out of bed.
“I told you not to mess this up. And what do you do, you stupid bitch?” The pain exploding on my scalp is intense, but nothing compared to when he swings his fist and hits me in the stomach. All the air is forced out of my lungs, I whimper and collapse forward.
God, it hurts. So badly.
“Please… Henry, no… please.” But my pleading goes unheard. On the contrary, it only fuels him even more. He undoes his belt and drags me to his chair, and I struggle. My toes dig into the carpet, but it’s no use. None at all.
Tears stream down my face as he bends me over the chair. He presses his hand to my neck and leans over me.
“If you move even one inch, I will kill you. Understand?”
I nod. I just nod.
He has been drinking again. A lot. His meeting did not go as planned, and then I spilled coffee in front of his business partners, right on one of the men’s shirts. At the time he laughed it off, but now, hours later, I am paying the price.
I hear the belt sliding free from his pants loops and squeeze my eyes shut.
“You know you deserve this, don’t you, Amelia?” he asks into the silence, but it is purely rhetorical. He does not want an answer from me.
Silently I wait for what is coming and press my lips tightly together as my back bursts into flames. As he strikes me blow after blow.
“DON’T”
Strike
“YOU”
Strike
“EVER”
Strike
“DO”
Strike
“THAT”
Strike
“AGAIN!”
Strike
My back is on fire, making me feel like I’m being torn apart. My fingers and nails dig deep into the wood of the chair as darkness creeps into my vision.
“You”
Strike
“Deserve”
Strike
“This”
Strike
