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Her dark blue eyes came alive once more, still wet, but this time tears started to streak across her skin, mixing in with clumped mascara so it looked like she was weeping blackness. It didn’t make sense. Their fucking was like fighting most of the time, animals in heat, pain and blood and submission the things that got both of them off. A small part of him knew this was different – that this wasn’t good for her, that she had said no, that she was crying as if he were raping her – but he pushed that aside, because it didn’t matter what she needed in that moment. It only mattered that he get rid of this feeling inside, that he get rid of the image of Stephanie lying in the tub begging for her fucking life, and replace it with something else.
Mariana struggled underneath him, her nails digging into his hand that was clasped at her throat. She took in tiny sips of air, her eyes streaming with tears, the fear inside them both comforting and nauseating at the same time. The only sound was skin slapping against skin, the small choking sounds coming from her throat, and the bed banging against the thin stucco wall with every brutal thrust into her pliant flesh.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
MARIANA
It felt like my wrists were about to snap in two. My throat, though, was where most of the pain blossomed from. I could take in shallow breaths, but Dornan’s weight crushed me into the lumpy motel mattress, and my lungs burned, begging to be filled with oxygen. The room started to spin. There were tears in my eyes. He’s supposed to love me. And I guess the most fucked-up part of all was that he did love me. Even as he held me down, he loved me in the only way he knew how. With violence. With anger. With pain.
I’d become hardened over the years but I’d never, ever felt this torn beneath him. I’d wanted to tell him about the baby for a split second there, but after what I’d seen – how he’d butchered his ex-girlfriend – everything inside me said to shut my mouth, to give nothing away.
And my heart. My heart was hurting, because it was breaking in two. I still loved him, deep down in the dark places inside me. But I was afraid of him. I hated him. I was terrified of this man.
And John. I wanted John. He was safe. He was gentle. He didn’t look at me like a possession. He didn’t lock me up and have me followed and hurt me. He didn’t murder women – not that I knew of anyway. He was tender. He was loving.
Love. I choked tears back, clinging onto consciousness by a tattered thread, as Dornan finished with one final thrust and collapsed on top of me.
I sucked in a breath the moment his hold on me loosened, coughing and choking as fresh air burned my lungs.
In the shock that came after, I imagined stepping onto a plane with Dornan’s baby nestled inside my belly, safe and hidden. I imagined the utter relief as the plane took off. And then he would be there, dragging me from my seat, shoving me inside a toilet stall and killing me with his bare hands while his dark eyes burned with Why?
I lay on the edge of the bed, not daring to move, until the last of the sticky liquid had seeped from inside me and turned cold beneath my thighs. I waited until Dornan was sleeping, his breath coming in slow increments, his form still. Rolling my legs off the side of the bed, I moved slowly and silently, heading for the bathroom. Once I was in there, I locked the door and stepped into the shower, turning on the hot water.
I’d never been raped before. Is that what it was like? It had been less traumatic letting Murphy fuck me than it had been begging Dornan not to. I was shaking and I couldn’t stop.
I held my wrists up to the weak light the bare bulb was throwing off overhead. I saw fresh bruises blossoming across my skin, and marvelled at how close love and death could become. Dirty, messy, inexplicably intertwined. I didn’t cry. I was numb. My heart beat in a steady rhythm, and I imagined the second tiny heart within me. Pressing a hand against my flat stomach, I said a silent prayer for the life inside me.
I remembered the piece of paper the ultrasound technician had handed to me, the one I’d been supposed to give my doctor.
The baby inside me was a girl.
She was a girl, and I wanted her more than anything, but at the same time my heart told me it was utterly selfish to bring a little girl into this world I was imprisoned in. Would she be corrupted? Would she be sold? Would her father end up destroying her?
Weary but warm under the generous hot water, I said a silent sorry to my daughter, whatever her fate might be. I pleaded for her forgiveness – for my carelessness, for my selfishness, that I wasn’t even sure if I had the strength to be her mother. Because she might be inside me, but I’d never stared into her eyes, never held her in my arms and begged to keep her as she was ripped away from me. No, at the moment she was nothing more than a blurry picture and a plus sign on a pregnancy test.
It wasn’t too late for an abortion. I still had time. But that time was fast running out, and if I decided to terminate I’d have to make plans. Get help. John. It would always come back to John.
I could terminate the pregnancy, but I’d heard her strong little heartbeat thundering along in my ears. I’d seen her move. She had arms, and legs, and a heart. She’d already survived Murphy, and Allie shooting me. She was a fighter. She deserved a chance.
On the other hand, she had a father who was a murderer. A grandfather who was a monster. A family wrapped up in lies and death and torturous pain. She’d either become one of them or be imprisoned by them, and I didn’t know which one was worse.
Whatever happened, if she even survived long enough to be born, her life wasn’t going to be easy.
The merciful path would be to make the choice for her, to lie down on a hard hospital bed, spread my legs and let a stranger vacuum her from me. To let her fade away before anyone ever knew of her existence.
But I knew I couldn’t do that.
I couldn’t bear to destroy the one good thing Dornan and I had left.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
MARIANA
Dornan rolled over and kissed me on the mouth, tasting like stale whiskey and lies, before closing himself in the bathroom. The motel would have to burn the sheets, streaked with blood from where he’d slept.
While he was showering I dressed and headed outside, making sure to wrap a scarf around my neck to hide the bruises Dornan had left. I couldn’t bear to spend another moment with him, but I was ashamed that I’d been so fucking weak. I could have yelled for John. But I hadn’t, because being forced was preferable to watching John and Dornan kill each other if I’d cried out for help.
I just wanted to be alone for five minutes, so of course as soon as I opened the front door I ran smack bang into John.
