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Made-up doctor, made-up excuse. Being secretly on the pill while pretending to try and get pregnant is probably what makes me sick with worry. Being with a bigot, sexist, abuser is most likely what makes me ill most of the time. But something still makes me proud, for I can easily fool Conor without him even having an inkling of a doubt. I might not be the sharpest tool in the box; I graduated with less than okay grades and I’m not going to college, but I’m still just a little smarter than Conor. And that alone is a win.
“Come on, Rach,” he groans a complaint. “How long is that shit going to last? You went to the doctor yesterday. Shouldn’t you feel better now?” He tries to grab me again, and I flinch.
Shit.
“Why are you recoiling from me?” He scoffs and wipes his face with his hands. “You think I have fun fucking a girl who just lays there and takes it? Get off your high horse, you’re not even that hot.”
“Stop,” I snap back. I cross my arms across my chest, keeping my robe tight against me. “If you don’t want to have sex, that’s fine with me. My family isn’t in a rush for grandchildren before the wedding. Only yours is.”
He huffs, like it’s a pain to discuss with me. “God, do you know how tiring it is to have conversations with someone as brainless as you?”
My eyes dart to the side, the insult hitting deep. At school, because I wasn’t loud, people assumed I was smart. I went along with it because I was too ashamed to tell anyone I was simply dumb. That’s what my parents always said. That’s why they want to marry me so quickly, because I’m not good for anything else anyway.
“You’re not intelligent. You’re not beautiful. You might think you’re hot, and maybe you are to all your other dykes, but you’re not to us guys. And the worst thing is you don’t even like dick. You never had any experience pleasuring a man, and you suck me like a fish choking on air.”
“Shut up,” I murmur, too scared to say it with vehemence.
His words are too believable. I’m not just stupid, I also was never able to keep the only person I fell in love with. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m just not beautiful enough. Not smart enough. Not good enough.
He comes closer to me, and I attempt to take a step back as tears fall down my cheeks. I feel the edge of the bathtub against the back of my knees and have no choice but to let him close to me.
“What do I get out of our families’ exchange, Rachel? Not much, believe me. No, the only thing I can get is your dad’sfuckingcompany, so I can at least make it worth my time.”
He grabs my jaw in a bruising grip.
“That’s something to talk about with my dad, not me,” I yelp. I don’t push his hand away, the fear of provoking further violence freezing my movements.
“I don’t need to talk with your dad. He doesn’t like me. He doesn’t want to give it to me because he doesn’t want to lose his hard-earned company to a stranger.Unless…” He tightens his grip as his other hand goes to my robe. He pulls at my arms until they fall by my side and pushes the silk away from my breasts. I’m thankful for the knot around my waist that stops the robe from opening entirely.
“Unless his little cunt of a daughter gives me a son that he knows will take over me eventually. Blood is so important to your dad. I just need to give him an heir.”
He grabs one of my breasts in the palm of his hand, hard enough to make me squeal.
“Come on, Rachel, what makes you wet? Tell me.”
The little demon in me wakes up.
Blood on Rose’s body. Controlling her into an orgasm. Hurting my doll until she’s screaming my name.
“Not you!” I shout as I attempt to push him away. He’s too heavy and I end up pushing myself backward, falling into the bathtub, and hurting the back of my head.
The world becomes dizzy, my ears ring, and black spots cloud my vision. I hear his mocking laugh, then I feel his hand in my hair.
I scream when he pulls me out of the tub by my hair.
“You hurt yourself falling in there. Are you gonna put that on me as well?”
“Let go!” I screech as he takes me to our bedroom. He throws me toward the bed, but I miss it and end up on the floor. I feel dizzy from hitting the bathtub and am struggling to get my bearings. I’ve got no time to avoid the first kick to my ribs.
Fuck. Fuck, it hurts.
“Remember when I told you I’d fucking kill you if you saw Rose again? You should be on your knees thanking me for letting you live. For not bringing up sooner that she had your phone and fucking hung up on me.”
“Nothing happened,” I lie. “I-I promise.”
“Get up.” The way his voice changes makes the flow of tears accelerate.
“Please, I don’t want to do this,” I plead with him as I get up slowly.
