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He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small knife. It flipped it open to reveal a sharp edge. My eyes widened, I tried to fight against his hold but he held me down.

“Be still, my darling, this will only hurt for a moment. You need to know who’s in charge here.” Malakar brought the knife onto my skin, the spot above my heart. He began to carve. Blood spilled down my skin. Screams tore through my taped mouth, tears leaked from my eyes, but he still did not stop.

Just make it stop.

Just when I thought I would pass out from the pain, he pulled away. My body couldn’t stop shaking from terror, pain, the loss of blood. My flesh was painted with red.

When I looked at where he cut me, I was horrified to to see his name cut into my skin. Jagged, bloodied and etched onto me forevermore.

He pressed his fingers into the cut, grinding his name deeper. I screamed again, the agony splitting my vision into pieces. The world broke apart. There was only the knife, the blood, his hand on my chest.

“See? Now you’ll never forget,” he muttered.

My whole body flared white-hot, then hollowed out, like it was nothing but a meat sack for pain.

He ripped the tape from my mouth, and it burned. I tried to breathe. Nothing came in but wet, shaking sobs.

Malakar yanked my head up.

“Tell me you love me. Say it.” His voice was wild, almost pleading, but his grip was iron.

I whimpered, “I love you, I love you, Malakar, just stop, please stop, please, please.”

He tore the tape off my wrists, and the skin peeled with it. He ripped my legs apart. The ache of the whipping came back from the forceful movements.

“No, stop!” I begged him. He didn’t hear me. Or he liked it.

Something, something inside me broke.

“Don’t push me away, Starla darling, don’t you leave me too.” Malakar held my arms down with his hands, caging me into his hellish sin.

“You’re sick…please just go away,” I pleaded, helplessness in my voice. It was no use, he was too far gone.

He pet my hair, as if I was his favorite pet. “Don’t talk like that, bluebird, you don’t mean it. You love me, don’t you? Don’t you love me?” The pressure of his hand got stronger with every word that he spoke.

“I don’t know what I feel! I know I’m scared, you’re scaring me. Please, Malakar, don’t do this.” I was sobbing now. Hysterical. I don’t think he cared. If he did, he couldn’t show it properly.

“You’re scared? My mother was scared too when father beat her. She was scared when the flames devoured her last breath. She was scared when she realized she couldn’t fly away. She begged and begged but it was no use. There’s no point in begging, bluebird.” There was no light in his eyes. He was gone. “Fear is only an emotion. Once you learn to shut it out, everything gets easier. The dark becomes a friend. You’ll learn to love the dark too. You’ll learn to love my darkness.”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to love his darkness. I didn’t want to shut out the fear. Fear drove me, it’s what made me decide to leave Brandon. The fear of thinking he’d finally beat me to death one day. Fear saved me once, it would save me again. I had to believe that.

“I don’t want to love you, I could never love you, Malakar.” I knew I shouldn’t have said that, the moment the words left my lips and his gaze grew angry, I knew I fucked up. The truth was better than cowering and giving in.

“How could you say that?” He yelled. His hand choked me again, and I wheezed from loss of oxygen. “That’s not true. Don’t lie, bluebird, don’t fucking lie! We have something special, you and I, you’ll see it soon enough. You have to.”

He scooted down and slapped my core. I winced and shut my eyes. He slapped my pussy again, then again. “Tell me you love me, fucking say it, maybe then I’ll make you feel good.”

“No!”

He slapped my core again, then opened the drawer again to reveal a knife. He took the knife and twirled it in his fingers. “You’ll see what happens when you act like a bitch. Just like my mother. Women are only supposed to obey. That’s it. You don’t want to? I won’t give you mercy.”

He held the sharp part of the knife, and shoved the handle into my vagina. A scream tore through my lips. My pain and terror wasn’t enough to stop him, it never was. He loved it when I screamed.

“You’re so tight, little bluebird, so fucking resistant. I’ll change that, you’ll see.” He shoved the handle deeper, pulled out, then shoved in again. It hurt so fucking much. I was as dry as a desert down there.

He started moving the knife in and out faster. The whole time he was grinning like a maniac. His free hand came up to rub my clit at the same time.

The pain and pleasure was too much. Eventually, I felt myself starting to get wet. Not because I liked it, but because my body was reacting to the stimulation of his finger on my clit. He was rubbing on the perfect spot which lit my insides on fire.