Page 2 of The Price Of Possession

I ignore the throbbing ache between my legs. Painful memories I wish I could erase replays in the forefront of my mind. I was doing so good. I have no one else to blame for my self-inflicted destruction but myself. I willingly came upstairs with the voracious beast.

His hold on my wrists is bruising. He grunts in frustration, ditching the mask entirely. His teeth graze over my breast. Instead of nipping, he clamps down hard along the tender flesh.

Blood pools against my milky skin. Angry red marks immediately blotch on the surface.

A deep rumble of satisfaction leaves deep within his chest. He laps at my blood. He turns frenzied. Sweat drips down his washboard abs onto my stomach. Each thrust is more punishing than the last. His control is slipping and I'm on the receiving end. His one hand winds around my wrist. His other around my throat. He cuts off my air supply. Stars blur my vision. Panic sets in. He's going to kill me. Is this what I deserve for living this life? I desperately try to break free. He grips my throat harder. My breaths turn shallow before I'm met with darkness.

***

“Wakey wakey,” a sinister voice pierces through the silence. The voice is muffled, as if underwater. I blink a few times. My eyes flutter open. The hellish beast slips his mask back over his face. It takes me a moment to process where I am again. My mind is jumbled and fuzzy. How long was I out?

“There she is.” He cocks his head, dissecting me through his mask. “I finished in that mouth instead when you passed out. I watched it drip down your plump lips and onto those tits.”

I lick my lips instinctively. I, so used to being used, don't flinch at his crass admission.

As much as I wanted to leave this life behind, this is a stark reminder I'll never escape it. His viridian eyes light up, waking the beast within. Despite his confession, my mouth is still as dry as cotton. From the drugs no doubt. I stanch the fear rippling through me. The effects still linger. He administered such a heavy dose even I, a causal drug user, still feel it.

“I'm gonna play with you a bit.”

My heart rate picks up. It's then I realize my limbs are tied to his bed posts. I tug at my restraints just to be met with resistance. A knitted look of pure confusion masks my internal terror. This guy is a predator. A joker in a deck of cards. The definition of a wild card.

He throws his head back and releases a supercilious wheeze. “You—you think I'm done with you? No, no, not yet. I want to hurt you first. Man, you ladies look delightful when panic falls over your harrowed faces.”

The air turns stagnant. Something foreboding fills the air. A warning. Pure consternation fills me. The hammering thump from my heart is so loud I think he can hear it. My skin breaks out in a sweat.

I still when he drops his ear against my chest cavity.

His fingers dance along my ribs to the beat of his words. “Thump, thump, thump.” he lets out a charred susurrus against my sore, bare skin. A sibilant threat.

Keep it together, Clara.

He makes my body jolt when he wrenches back, fishing for something on his dresser I can't see. I take the opportunity to scan over his features. The same ones that led me down this path, into his waiting arms. I have a bad habit of landing in bed with the bad ones. Something appealing calls me.

His jeans are hanging carelessly on his hips, undone. Probably from fucking me senseless. I shake my head to cure the blur that still hazes my vision. The drugs are still commandeering my system. His T-shirt is still plastered on his body like a second skin, only now it's coated in sweat. He turns around holding a whip in his hand. A pliable leather with multiple tails. His curls fall over the top of his mask. His chest rises and falls in anticipation.

“Break for me, Nightshade.”

Present

The thumping bass blasts through the room, shaking the walls. My body sways along to the music blocking out all the lacerating doubts. This is the first party I've been to without Vesper. She's been staying with Zain over break and meeting with scouting agencies. I have hardly spoken to her, so instead of going insane inside my own head filled with loneliness, I came out to the latest campus party. Bold of me considering this is exactly what started this endless spiral of bad decisions. The devilish monster himself resurfaced my trauma. Now, I'm in an endless vortex. I'm frantically trying to keep myself on track, but he took the last bit of strength I had left, leaving me with remnants of his depravity as a reminder of what I am.

Broken.

Silas and Val are sandwiched on either side of me. I'm on my fourth drink and on the precipice of a blissful delirium. It's just the pick me up I needed after the shit month I've had. First, my computer shit the bucket, and despite being in a prestigious school, I don't have money like these rich kids. Secondly, with Vesper gone, my mental health has taken a dive leading me down the path of heavy use. I've always been the occasional user, up until recently. It isn't her responsibility to keep me grounded. Hell, I don't even open up to her about my problems. What good would that do? No one wants someone to constantly unload on them. Plus, with her background, I don't think she could fully grasp the shit I've gone through. Of course that's no fault of her own; she's still an amazingly caring person, but she couldn't understand my struggles, so I keep them locked tight. I don't need anyone to know my weaknesses.

I grind my ass on Val while I thread my fingers through Silas's thick, dark curls. He shoots me a wolfish grin. Everyone knows drinks lower my inhibitions and shatter my walls. Then I can feel something. Anything other than self-doubt. It's a perpetual cycle. I know I need therapy, but that costs money. Money I don't have. Instead, I use sex to numb my past memories and calm the flurry of thoughts with the occasional alcohol and drug induced coma. They say time heals wounds, that's bullshit if you ask me. If anything, it gives you more time to dwell on the demons.

Clara. Age 8

I lay under the bed in the corner of our musty hotel room and play with my dolls. It's like a secret hide out. I like my dolls. Even though one is missing an arm I just pretend she had a bad accident.

“How much for one hour?” A man's voice cuts through the air. And I see his black fancy dress shoes on the colored carpet. He sits on the bed with mama, but I can’t see their faces. She always has friends over, but they never stay long. I wish I had friends. Mama says I will start school soon if we can find a house. I've always wanted a house; to be a real family like on TV. I wish I had a daddy. Mama says she doesn't know who he is. “Two hundred,” mama tells the man. The scent of cigarettes fills the space above me, wafting down in my hiding spot. I don't like that smell. It smells dirty and gross.

I know when mama starts talking numbers, I have to put my hands over my ears until he leaves. She said the room gets loud and she doesn’t want to scare me. The man takes his shoes off. The bed dips above me. I listen to Mama because she loves me.

Colors and faces blur around me. Ritualistic movements catch my eyes out of my peripheral. Val's hands slink around my front and roam over my exposed stomach. Silas drags his teeth along my strappy top. I'm unsteady on my feet. My heels almost cause me to tip over. Their touches stimulate my pleasure receptors. I close my eyes, focusing on the rush.

“Ready to play, darlin'?” Val whispers along the shell of my ear; his hands envelop my body in a dominating, forceful squeeze. The smell of his leather jacket wafts in my space joining Silas’s woodsy scent. I close my eyes, grounding myself.