Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“No . . . Nowhere,” I stutter, backing up against the wall as my heart races with terror.
He stands and slowly strides around the dining table as I awkwardly shuffle toward the stairs, keeping my eyes locked on every step he takes. “Who have you been fucking, huh? Now that your little boyfriend is gone.”
“Nobody.”
“LIAR!” he roars, launching toward me and grabbing my shoulders, before violently shaking me. My back slams against the railing for the stairs, but I don’t say a word about it. “You’re a fucking whore, and it’s about time I treat you like one. You go around here in your skimpy little skirts with your tits hanging out, begging me to do something about it like a little fucking tease.”
“Touch me and die,” I spit, trying to get out of his hold. “You’re drunk. Go to bed.”
My father laughs, and the smell of whiskey assaults my nose. “Where’s your little protection detail now, huh? You’re all alone with nobody to save you.”
“You’re an asshole.”
He backhands me so hard, I taste blood in my mouth, and as I cry out in pain, he reaches for his belt. “You want to get mouthy with me, you little bitch? I’ll give you something to get mouthy about.”
Oh fuck, no.
I shove him hard, not waiting to watch as he stumbles back, and with his body blocking the hallway to the front door, I’m left with no choice but to sprint up the stairs. I take them two at a time, not even having a moment to form a scream.
His big body crashes up the stairs after me, but if I can just get to my room and get the door shut behind me, I’ll be fine. I can barricade the door and jump out the window. It’ll be a big fall, but I’ll take it a million times over what he has in store for me.
I’m halfway up the stairs when his hand locks around my ankle and yanks me back. I drop hard, my face slamming against the corner of the step, and I cry out as my nose crushes beneath the weight.
Blood spurts from my nose, but my father still holds me down, bracing his hand against the back of my head, and squishing my face into the stairs as I scream in agony. I try to fight him off, but as he drops his full weight over me, there’s nowhere for me to go.
I scream until my throat hurts, and as he reaches between us and pulls my shorts down, all I can do is cry. “Stop acting like you haven’t been beggin’ for it,” he grunts.
I try to fight him off, try to slam him with my elbow and wriggle free, but it’s no use, I’m pinned under his weight. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to run. And when he forces my legs apart and slams viciously inside of me, tearing right through my virginity, I cry out in pain.
He presses against my head to get leverage, and not a moment later, he starts to move, painfully destroying my innocence and taking what little light I have left.
His grunts and groans fill the air as his body quickly grows clammy. I can smell the alcohol seeping from his pores, and I will him to stop, to die from alcohol poisoning, or at the very least make himself so sick that he has no choice but to pull away.
It lasts far too long, and I do what I can to focus on Ezra, to focus on the love I have for him and ignore my father’s brutal torture, but it’s impossible. Every deep thrust, every agonizing touch, kills me, and by the time he finally finishes emptying himself inside of me, any sense of my childhood is gone.
He pulls himself off me, using my discarded body as a crutch on his way up, and all I can do is continue staring at the carpeted stairs as blood gushes from my nose. My father gets to his feet, and I hear as he tucks his dick back inside his pants before scoffing at me on the ground. “How’d you like that, whore? Is that what you’ve been begging for?”
Fat tears roll down my cheeks, and I don’t respond, just wishing for him to leave, but instead, he laughs. “Tight. Just like your mother.”
Bile rises in my throat.
“Things are gonna be different around here now,” he says, kicking me aside on the stairs before continuing his way up.
I listen to his heavy footsteps as he reaches the top and rounds the corner to his bedroom, and the moment the door closes behind him, I scramble for my shorts and phone and sprint to my bedroom.
My whole body shakes as I slam the door behind me and use every ounce of strength I have left to push my old dresser across the room and barricade myself inside. I fall to the ground, feeling my father’s cum leaking from inside me, and I’ve never felt so dirty in my life. I need to shower, need to scrub the scent of his alcoholic sweat off me, but I won’t dare leave this room until I know he’s gone. Instead, I crawl across the floor and lock myself inside my closet, folding my knees to my chest as I cry, and cry, and cry.