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God knows how much I want to, but just like all the other times, I can’t go through with it. Turning around, I quickly spit the contents into the toilet behind me and watch as they sink into the bottom of the white porcelain bowl. And, there it is, another reminder of what a fuck up and coward I really am.
Why can’t I do this? Where does the will to live come from?
I look up, but my reflection in the antique mirror continues to taunt me, forcing me to get a good hard look at the truth. Desperation and misery are permanently seared into my eyes. I hate who I am, who I’ve become. What kind of future can I ever have? Who would ever want me?
I’m dirty.
I’m ruined.
I’m alone.
I’m already dead.
Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
DEVYN
Most teenage girls worry about what to wear or how to fit in. But, the thing is, I’m not like most teenage girls. While they’re busy worrying about how to impress a boy they like, I worry about whether or not my bedroom door is going to open up in the middle of the night.
Luckily, with Broderick gone for a short business trip, I’ve had two nights of blissful sleep. He isn’t due back until the morning, so I decide to enjoy my last night of freedom by crawling into bed early to watch a movie. Sometime after midnight, I’m jolted awake by a loud noise in my room.
The dancing light behind me reminds me that I’d left the television on. Relieved, I settle back into the comfort of my pillow. But just as I feel myself drift back off to sleep, the room abruptly becomes silent. The fierce shift in the atmosphere is beyond alarming. My chest tightens as the panic resurfaces, overtaking every single inch of my body until I’m lying there paralyzed with fear.
I hold my breath, struggling hard to conjure the courage to face my worst nightmare, the nightmare of my reality. Unable to put off the inevitable, I roll over onto my back, only to find Broderick standing over me, smirking, with his half-filled whiskey glass in hand.
No! He’s not real. This is a dream! Wake up!
The feel of his warm hand against my face only confirms that I’m not dreaming. Broderick steps away and turns on the small lamp beside me, momentarily making me cringe at the brightness of the light. That’s the thing about light. It always reveals what lurks in the darkness around us. Sometimes there’s comfort in the dark. Then again, sometimes the monsters stay there, waiting for us to close our eyes.
“Miss me?”
His greeting triggers every inch of my body to begin shaking uncontrollably. I struggle to swallow the fear that’s strangling me. I won’t let him see it. I can’t.
“W-what are you doing back?”
The wide smirk grows larger on his face. “Well, now, that isn’t an answer, is it?”
He studies me for a minute with those dangerous eyes that I despise so much. “I believe I asked you a simple question.”
Throwing back the rest of the amber colored drink, he places the empty glass down on my nightstand and moves to sit beside me on the bed. Using the heels of my feet, I frantically push myself back against the headboard, trying to put as much distance as I can between us. Desperate to hide my attire, I pull on the comforter in hopes of trying to shield my body from his heated stare.
“No, I- I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just surprised to see you, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting you back until tomorrow.”
“It’s past midnight… so technically, it is tomorrow.”
His ice cold blue eyes lock with mine, paralyzing me on the spot. I’ve had to stare down the evil in his eyes more times than I care to count. Nonetheless, every time he looks at me, I feel the sickening reminders of all the nights I’d give anything to forget.
Broderick leans forward to crawl closer to me on the bed. Out of options, I inch sideways until there is nothing but the back of the bed and wall behind me. Like a wild animal cornering their prey, he waits for the perfect moment to move in. With a sudden shift of his weight, he lunges forward, quickly pinning me beneath him on the bed. Panicked, I turn my head and desperately study the tight grip he has on my arms, frantically looking for some way to escape his hold, but there isn’t one. I can fight, kick, and scream all I want, but it will only make this worse for me.
I brave a look back into his eyes, catching the distinct way he’s looking at me. It’s sick, perverted, and epically twisted. I sometimes wonder, if somewhere, deep in his deranged mind, he’s in love with me. What I can’t seem to understand is why? He can easily have any woman he wants, so why does he want someone like me? Doesn’t he see how wrong this is? Unable to look at him any longer, I shut my eyes and turn my head to the side, praying the same worthless prayer I know God won’t answer.
Please, God, make him stop. Please.
“I’ve missed you, my beautiful girl.”
The heavy stench of the expensive liquor on his breath causes the first wave of nausea to hit me. Before I can turn away, he captures my face with his hand and holds it firmly in place. The revolting feel of his hot, rough tongue against my skin sickens me, causing a burning rush of bile up the back of my throat. Broderick’s breathing grows erratic as his arousal builds beneath me. Back and forth, he grinds his disgusting hardness into my stomach, while continuing to lick a trail from my jaw, down to the crook of my neck. He pauses for a minute before leaning up and flashing me a wicked smile.
I can’t control the sobs. “B-Broderick, don’t.”
He places his finger against my lips, trying to silence my crying. “Shh. There’s no need to pretend to be scared.” He brushes my hair away from my face. “I know you’ve missed this every bit as much as I have.”
No! Please, NO!
The muscles in my stomach clench and tighten as his icy fingertips rake across my skin. Little by little, he raises my short, sleep shirt up my body, until I’m completely exposed to him. A deep growl erupts from his chest just as his hand reaches between my thighs.
“I’ve especially missed this tight, little pussy.”
“No! Please, Broderick. Don’t!”
I writhe beneath him as I struggle to prevent his attack. Clenching my thighs together as tightly as possible, I barely manage to evade his advances. Surprisingly, he releases his hold on me. Again, everything in the room becomes silent, so fucking silent. I lay there, still beneath him, shivering as I await my harsh punishment. There’s no doubt my defiance will come at a high cost.
I study his hand as he raises it above him. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and stiffen to prepare for the first strike. Even though the fierce sting of his hand landing across my face was expected, the force of it steals my breath. When I open my eyes, the vehement expression plastered on his face is murderous, unforgiving. All to well, I recognize the evil that is now fully coming out to play a game, I know I’ll never win.
“You little cunt! You will respect me!”
Without warning, his hand grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling me up and off the bed like a limp rag doll. My lips part, but the pain is so overwhelming I can’t even scream. Before I can blink, I’m slung into the nightstand beside of me. The brutal force of the impact has my ears ringing and my head spinning. In agony, I grab the side of my head and roll over on the cold wooden floor. But, even with my eyes closed, I can still sense his dark shadow cast over my body.
I blink hard, struggling to clear the blurriness as the double vision fades in and out. Broderick towers over me, his fists clenched tightly to both of his sides. For a few moments, he remains completely still, watching me as his chest quickly rises and falls. The anger in his body is undeniable. My stomach plummets as I watch his hands unclench and move to his front zipper.
No!
Even though my tears blur my vision, the sound of the metal is undeniable, only confirming my horrific fate.
No. Not again. Please, don’t say those words.
“On your knees!” And, there it is. The trigger. It’s like turning a switch on inside me, and he knows it. r />
Those three fucking words make me surrender.
Those three fucking words make me another person.
Those three fucking words haunt me.
In an instant, everything in me starts shutting down. The excruciating pain in my head fades away. Nothing else matters anymore. No one is going to stop this. No one is going to walk in and rescue me. Like a snap of a finger, my knees automatically buckle, giving into his direct demand. Numbness slowly overtakes my body, allowing me to surrender the rest of myself over to him.
Within my next breath, I’m kneeling before him on my bedroom floor. As I stare into the shiny, silver belt buckle before me, I know I can’t change my revolting destiny. This is my fate. I’m a prisoner of my own body. On the inside, I’m screaming at myself to fight harder, but on the outside I am like a zombie, dead, uncaring, and unwilling to put up a fight.
The snap of his buckle releasing no longer has an effect. His expensive designer pants fall to the floor in front of me. Taking his erect penis in his hand, he begins stroking himself as he closes the distance between us. Broderick grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling me toward him. I know damn well what’s expected of me, and I can’t do anything to stop it.
“Open your mouth and suck my cock, you dirty little cunt!” He demands.
I slowly open my mouth to comply, but apparently, it isn’t fast enough to please him. Using the brutal force of his hands, he pushes my head down further to take all of him in. His sudden urgency doesn’t give my throat time to adjust to his length, causing me to heave in protest.
I hate the smell of him, the taste of him. I hate everything about this evil man. This is all my mother’s fault. I hate her for marrying him, but I hate her even more for dying and leaving me here to suffer through all of this.
“Fuck!” he roars, holding my head firmly in place.
With one additional hard thrust forward, he releases his foul, disgusting spunk into my mouth. I fight like hell to hold all of it in until he leaves my room, but soon, the salty bitter liquid starts to trickle down the back of my throat.
Leave. Please just leave!
“Swallow it!” he orders, struggling to catch his breath.
Panic-stricken, I don’t know what to do. He’s never demanded me to do this before. If I do what he says, I know I’ll end up getting sick. I’d learned to pretend to swallow and then spit it out once he left.
"I said swallow it!” He grabs my jaw and squeezes it tightly in his hand.
If I want him to leave me alone, I don’t have any choice but to do what he says. Breathing in through my nose, I close my eyes and swallow the vile tasting, mouth load of shit he’s given me. The thick stringy fluid unexpectedly hangs as it goes down, causing me to gag in response.
I have to fight it. I can’t get sick in front of him.
“Open up! I want to see.”
His command only pisses me off more. As if what he’s done to me isn’t enough, now I have to be subjected to this kind of scrutiny? I part my lips and allow him to inspect the inside of my mouth. Satisfied, the sick bastard grins smugly at me, no doubt proud of what he’s just made me do.
Broderick leans in and gently places a kiss on my mouth. Full of outrage, I fight the urge to sink my teeth into the flesh of his lips, to rip his lip completely off his face. After all, what do I have to lose?
“That’s my good girl. Now, go to sleep.” He yanks up his pants and fastens his belt.
That fucking belt.
For the past six months, I’ve become all too familiar with that thick black strip of leather and the shiny rectangular silver buckle attached to it. Night after night, I’ve lain awake, fantasizing about how to hang the son of a bitch by it. And, trust me, one day, I’ll do just that.
Like a winding rollercoaster, my stomach continues to twist and turn relentlessly. It’s inevitable. I know I’m going to throw up.
Please! Just leave!
Relief washes over me as Broderick ventures toward the door. But just as he starts to leave my room, he suddenly stops and turns back to face me, once again paralyzing me with fear.
“Oh, and Devyn?” His cold, dark eyes narrow at me. “Don’t even think of locking this fucking door tonight. You should know by now that it won’t end well for you, if you do.”
A terrifying shiver runs down my back as I’m forced to relive the memory of what he’d done the last time, Never again do I want to experience that horrific punishment. There are several sections on my lower back that are permanently disfigured from the lashing of his belt. Scars don’t matter to me anymore. Even if they heal, the damage on the inside will never go away.
When my bedroom door finally closes, I sit on the edge of my bed and anxiously await the sounds of his heavy footsteps on the stairs. The revolting contents swirling in my stomach begin their journey upwards. Covering my mouth with my hands, I bolt for the bathroom and drop down onto the cold ceramic floor, barely reaching the toilet in enough time.
Violent waves of nausea ruthlessly strike me until I have nothing left in my stomach to expel. Holding onto the sides of the toilet for support, the painful heaving persists for what seems like an eternity. By the time the vomiting finally ceases, I barely have any strength left to stand. Holding tightly to the wall behind me, I manage to walk over to the shower, weakly pulling the lever to start the water. No matter how horrible I feel at this moment, I have to do this.
A thick layer of steam engulfs me as I step into the tiled shower that I hate so much. Because of him, this is all part of a horrifying routine that I must do, all too often. With a trembling hand, I turn up the already scorching water to as hot as it will possibly go. Bravely, I step beneath it, hoping to sterilize myself of every touch he’d placed on my body.
Large bubbles slide down my chest as I add another layer of soap to my loofa. Scrubbing my mouth harder and harder, my irritated skin now burns as if it were singed by fire. It’s pointless. Defeated, I drop the loofa from my hand and stare down at it lying on the shower floor beside my feet. I’ll never be clean, never rid myself of his disgusting mark. The uncontrollable tears return as I press my head against the tile wall.
Why did you put me here, God? Why?
As I open the glass shower door, a trail of steam follows me and fills up the room. I quickly retrieve the plush white towel from the rack beside of me and tightly wrap it around my body. I’m so physically drained that each step I make towards the bathroom counter feels heavier than the last. With the side of my arm, I wipe the steam from the mirror, barely catching a brief glimpse of the fear in my eyes before the mirror mists again. Because of him, I have no life, no friends. Nothing. He’s taken it all away, every last bit of my control.
Since I turned eighteen last month, I’ve been waiting and planning for the perfect opportunity to run. When I’d overheard Broderick scheduling a business trip to Paris for the end of this month, I knew the time had finally come to put my plan into action. According to his calendar, he’d be gone for at least ten days, a perfect amount of time for me to disappear without a trace. With my bags already packed, and my savings safely tucked away, I just had to be patient for a little longer.
Just two more weeks, Devyn. You can do this.
Ignoring my reflection, I grab for my toothbrush and begin vigorously brushing my teeth. I must rid this nasty taste out of my mouth. After several gargles with some strong mouthwash, I slip a clean nightshirt over my head, change my sheets, and climb back into bed. The whole time, I silently pray that Broderick will pass out and leave me alone for the rest of the night. Little did I know how much my world was about to change.
WHAM!
I’m startled awake by the loud thud of my door hitting the wall. The bright hallway light spills into my pitch-dark room, blinding me temporarily. Terrified, I bolt up in the bed and shield my face from the light with my forearm. As my eyes slowly adjust, my heart stops at the sight of Broderick’s tall, broad figure illuminating through the doorway.
Pulling my l
egs up to my chest, I wrap my arms around my body and prepare for what’s to come. I don’t know what’s going on, but judging by his body language, I know it isn’t going to be good.
“What the hell is this?” he demands, angrily tossing a folded piece of paper at me.
I drop my eyes to where it lands in front of me on the bed. The UCLA logo on the top of the page is visible enough for me to recognize it as my acceptance letter. Lifting the letter up, I gulp down the fear that is strangling me inside. Broderick doesn’t know that I’d applied to different colleges all across the country. He has made it damn clear that I will be attending Northwestern University, his Alma mater, even going so far as to force me on a campus tour with him. Regardless of what he wants me to do, I’d still sent my applications off earlier in the term, determined to find some way to escape this hell.
