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I needed a cup of tea.
I felt faint.
And that was only the start of why I was terrified of going home.
The last couple of days had been okay. Lewis had been late back, and when he had rolled in, he’d gone straight to bed. Then last night, he’d come home drunk and tried it on but hadn’t managed to finish, leaving me sore yet relieved. I hated it. Hated my life. But I had nowhere to go. No friends. Lewis had made sure of that. I was utterly bloody trapped in an existence I had no control over apart from trying to make sure nothing bad happened. Still, bad things happened. In the end, it didn’t matter if I followed every goddamn rule.
I walked through the door holding my breath, and before I even got my shoes fully off, his hand struck me across the face and almost made me lose consciousness. Everything spun as my knees gave way and my body tried to slump downwards.
He wouldn’t even let me do that.
“You’ve been sneaky again, Hugo,” he hissed, breathing stale fumes into my face, his fist firm around the hem of my hoodie. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Probably a good dose of other things too. I couldn’t always tell them apart. Some things made him mellow. Others made him like this.
“I’m sorry,” I said weakly. My saliva tasted weird. Metallic. My hand had automatically risen to shield my mouth as the second blow hit. The other side this time.
“Don’t fucking play innocent. The rent payment bounced. What the fuck are you playing at?”
I was trying to make my brain work. The rent went out every month, straight into Lewis’s account. It was his apartment. His parents owned it. I was sure I’d paid it. Almost sure. I couldn’t make my thoughts knit together.
“The fucking rent, Hugo!Yourresponsibility. Do you know how bloody embarrassing it is to get a phone call like that, eh?”
I wasn’t prepared for another blow, as his face was right up in mine, yet he’d still managed to swing his fist into my ear.
This was bad, but I wondered how much worse it would get. He loved fucking me when he was angry, violently banging away at me until I would be begging him to stop.
One. Two. Three. Four. I counted. It helped me keep my head clear. Sometimes I would get to two hundred before he was done with me. Other times, he couldn’t get an erection, and that would usually make him even worse. It would be my fault.
Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.
My body got shoved over the back of the sofa. My joggers were ripped down. Nails scraped over my skin. I would have marks. He loved marks. Would show them to me in the mirror. Mock me for being so weak. For bruising too easily.
Ten. Eleven.
Sharp jab. No condom. I’d once begged him to at least use condoms. He wouldn’t. Never had.
Hard slap over my kidney. The blow made me shudder as my head fell forward, hoping for something soft to rest on.
Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.
Still jabbing at me. Too drunk to actually get his dick up my hole. I needed to stop. I needed to make everything stop. I half wanted him to hit meharder so I would pass out. Wishful thinking, because I never did. I just took it. Like a fool.
Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen.
Sharp stabs. Rips. Another blow across my back. Slurred words I wasn’t taking in.Bank. Rent. Embarrassment to mankind.
I suddenly wanted to laugh, throw it all back in his face, but what was the point? It would just make it worse.
“You fucking laughing?” he growled into my ear as his fingers ripped at my hair, bending my neck back until I whined in pain. “Fucking slut. You love this. You love it when I’m rough with you. You want this? With other men? Would you? Two cocks in that tight arse of yours? Ripping you apart? You’d love that. Screaming as you get ripped…”
Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one.
“Not that any other man would ever have you. Look at you. Pathetic. Skinny. Pale. Crazy fuck.”
I’d zoned out. He always talked about other people fucking me, getting me whatever he called it—spit roasted? Choked. Gagging on cock. Then he’d add that in the end, I was just a mental case, someone he took pity on. A pity fuck.
I hated it. I hated the words pouring from his vile mouth, the stench of his breath on my neck. The pain as he…
As he raped me.
