“Fucking stop it, Swan.”
I halt from his forceful voice, my streaming eyes darting in his direction. He turns around but does not look at me as he strolls toward the desk by the window. He sets his glass down on it and walks quickly in my direction.
I try to back away from him as far as possible as he climbs onto the bed, but he reaches over and grabs my legs before violently forcing them back down. He crawls up on me before sitting on my thighs, completely restraining me and I begin to scream in panic while trusting my body around.
When he suddenly grasps my exposed breasts into his hands tightly, biting his short nails into my skin, I squeeze my eyes shut with a hiss before facing away, the feeling of his unwanted touch making me feel sick. I start sobbing again when he leans down and speaks horribly against my ear.
“I am going to have so much fun taking all that fucking goodness out of you. After this and I am done with you, you will be just as fucked as me. A match made in fucking hell.”
I shake my head as I whisper, and I don’t care how vulnerable I appear; it’s exactly how I feel beneath him.
“Maddox don’t—”
“Here’s a couple of rules: every time you kick me or attempt to stop what I am doing to you, no matter what it is, no matter how much pain I am causing you, I will hurt you so much fucking worse, Swan. That is for you to decide, so you should think very carefully before you do.”
When he suddenly forces his hand between my thighs and cups my core, my terrified eyes ping open.
I am lying on my front with my eyes closed after he has finally finished viciously raping me for what felt like an eternity. My body is bruised and battered from the fight; I am throbbing between my legs and my breathing is erratic. My skin is saturated in perspiration and my own blood, and I feel as if I am going to pass out again. I cannot move; I feel as if I am paralyzed and numb; I am dead inside from what I just endured. As I vaguely hear him pull his zipper up, he speaks from the foot of the bed.
“I felt you fucking come for me, Swan. I think you’re into this shit.”
Tears fall from my swollen eyes, soaking into the pillow because of his hurtful words; what is left of my heart crumbles as he makes me feel disgusted with myself. When I hear the door open, my mind is a blur, and I barely hear the words he says.
“Take her to the fucking shower to clean up the mess she’s made.”
I hear heavy footsteps approaching before they suddenly stop, and my wrists are cut free with a knife. My limp, naked body is forced onto my back, and I am scooped up into an unknown person's arms. My arms and head sway around as I feel like a dead weight, but my eyes remain closed the entire time.
Everything goes blank until I am being lowered onto the floor of a shower and the warm water pelts down on my injured skin. Ilay curled up in a ball for some time, attempting to coach myself to do better, when suddenly Nana’s voice enters my head.Get up and do not allow him to break you, Charley.
I gradually open my stinging eyes and the bright spotlights blind me instantly. I squeeze them shut again as I attempt to sit up; crippling pain becomes apparent in my ribs, possibly broken from where he delivered hard blows to them when I attempted to kick him away and stop him from trying to force his hand inside me.
As I lift my body on my shaking, weak arms, I gently drag my dead legs over to the corner of the shower. I turn myself around to lean back against the glass, groaning from the excruciating pain while I bring my knees up to my chest before resting the side of my head on the tiles.
I breathe heavily, fighting to get air into my lungs, but when I carefully open my dazed eyes once more, I discover a river of blood streaking from between my legs, aiming for the drain. I lift my head as soon as my glazed lenses shift to my thighs, noticing all the huge bruises and welts decorating them from his powerful strikes.
A sob rises in my throat as I lay my head on the tiles again, attempting to swallow it back down and trying not to feel sorry for myself. I cannot allow him to have any more of my tears; he has already taken so much of me. I sit there for a while in silence, the darkness enveloping me, while I attempt to think of better things and times.Chaos, Reign, and my Nana.
As the sunbeams filter through the window, I reluctantly raise my heavy eyelids, feeling the weight of exhaustion bearing down on me. It has been three days since I last slept—or perhaps it's been longer; time seems to blur together while in this state of mind.
My body breaks with every movement, it has been pushed to limits that are not normal and I cannot shake the feeling of being utterly drained, both physically and mentally. I sometimes wonder if it will ever repair itself.
Maddox gave me a single day to "recover" before returning to his horrific ways. Once he is done, he leaves me to pick up the shattered pieces of myself that he continues to scatter in thewake of his brutality. He doesn’t linger, he does not acknowledge the havoc he wreaks; he doesn’t want to witness the devastation he leaves behind.
He simply uses me to satisfy his twisted desires and I often wonder if he feels even a shred of remorse, if my agonized screams even register with him, but if they do, he doesn’t reveal it; he shows no signs of stopping and will continue relentlessly torturing me, no matter what.
I have kept my eyes squeezed shut most of the time, trying to escape into any other thoughts than what he is doing to me, but it is useless. He has not only stolen a huge portion of goodness within me, but he has also seized my sight. Even with my eyes tightly shut, I continue to see his face, haunting every corner of my mind.
When I notice a pop of color in the corner of the dull, bleak room, my attention wanders to it. My stomach churns when I realize it is a bowl of fruits and some water. I must have dozed off because I do not recall seeing or hearing anyone come in.
I should probably eat something, but why should I? To give me energy to face more of this shit? I will be content when I wilt and drift away to join my Nana. I am so empty right now; that the air passes through me, and it is only a matter of time before I disintegrate completely.
After a while, I turn onto my back and gather a white sheet up to my chest, covering my naked body with a deep breath. I groan as I struggle to sit up after finding some strength and I slide the lower half of my body over to the edge of the bed before standing up on my weak, aching legs. I wrap the sheet firmly around me and slowly stroll across the room toward the window, the white fabric trailing behind me.
On the way, I catch my reflection in the wall mirror and come to a standstill. I stare at myself from a distance before striding toward it and coming to a halt when I reach close enough. My gaze circles my pallid and sunken face, noticing the shrinkage of the lump on my jaw and the gradual healing of my busted lip.
My focus moves down to my neck, where the once vivid purple lined bruise is now fading to a yellowish hue as it attempts to heal. I continue to my collarbone, where I observe the angry bite marks that he had inflicted on me the night before, and I loosen my fists, allowing the white sheet to release from my grasp and slip down my body.
As the sheet pools around my feet, I can't help but notice the blackness of my ribs and my once pristine skin that now bears his marks. Scattered across my body are wounds and bruises, each one a reminder of the suffering I endure, but it is the invisible marks, the ones he leaves deep within me, that weigh the heaviest. Those marks will never fade, reminders of the pain and trauma he inflicts on me with every touch.
