Page 22 of I’m The Worst

“I’m a man.” I rip the blanket out of her hands and throw it across the room. “It’s fucking biology. I don’t give a shit about you.”

She stares blankly, face pale, hands trembling. Then, she reaches for me. Like a challenge, her fingers graze over my cock.

My anger detonates.

I snatch her arm in a death grip, tempted to snap it off as I haul her down the hallway and shove her into the bedroom.

His green eyes pierce through me, cold and merciless. He closes the distance in two strides, his hand wrapping around my throat. I gasp, my hands flying to his wrist, nails digging in when I can’t breathe.

“Don’t touch me like this,” I choke out, clawing at his arm.

“You’re going to learn to fucking listen.”

He shoves me onto the bed. My body bounces, the mattress creaking beneath me. I roll, trying to escape, but he’s faster, and his heavy weight pins me down.

His scent engulfs me. Pine. Smoke. Heat.

I thrash, kicking, but it doesn’t matter. He reaches for a bag on the nightstand, ripping it open. A second later, zip ties bite into my wrists, locking me to the headboard. I yank, but they only cut deeper.

Trapped.

I shudder, a mess of fear and something worse—something darker that coils low in my stomach. The part of me that’s been craving him. A moan rips from my throat as I arch against his body, trying to take more, needing more of his heavy weight.

He freezes.

Tears burn my eyes, my body writhing beneath him. “Please. Use me. Fuck me. Please.”

“They didn’t have to teach you much, did they?”

Humiliation burns through me as his eyes scan my body in pure disgust.

“I-I⁠—”

He shoves off the bed. The mattress dips as he leaves, the zip ties cutting into my wrists as I pull against them.

“No! Wolff, you can’t fucking leave me like this!” I shout, yanking at the ties.

He doesn’t answer.

The door clicks shut.

Tears stream down my cheeks as I pull at the restraints harder, my wrists burning, skin rubbed raw. My breath is ragged, chest rising and falling too fast.

Desperation. Agony. Shame. Need.

They’re all ripping me apart from the inside. Until eventually, exhaustion drags me under.

I wake with a jolt.

The ghost of his hand is around my neck. His voice still in my ears. His weight pressing me down. I don’t know what possessed me. What drove me to touch him, beg him to rape me.

The nightmares. The memories. The withdrawals. Everything is consuming me, transforming me into someone else entirely.

I just wanted to forget. For one fucking moment, I wanted to feel something else. Something other than pain and fear. Even if that meant being fucked by him. More tears slip down my cheeks. There’s a void inside me, a gaping, endless hole. Where my sanity is slipping, piece by piece.

I don’t know who I am anymore.

Don’t know what’s real and what’s not.