Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
With Greg looming behind me, I didn’t twitch a muscle as Caroline took a series of pictures of my face. The whole time she degraded me like the meanest of mean girls, told Greg how ugly I was, and marveled that I’d managed to hide my gruesome face from poor Mark. Tears filled my eyes, which she further mocked, reminding me chillingly of my mother. But when Caroline started to tell me all about the wonderful life she would have with Mark, sorrow turned to anger and I wanted to slap the shit out of her. A possessive, raw rage that filled me at the thought of this crazy bitch touching my man.
With a content smile, she pressed a few things on her phone then said in a peppy voice, “There, sent!”
My rage took over, and I wanted to hurt her. “You know, it doesn’t matter what you do. He’ll never fuck you. Crazy and desperate isn’t his type.”
Caroline’s head jerked up, and the cheerful mask she’d been wearing slipped away.
“What did you say?” she hissed like a pissed off snake. “Half your face looks like you’ve been dragged across the pavement. You look like you stepped out of a horror movie.”
I bared my teeth at her. My rational mind broke beneath the stress, allowing the crazy I kept carefully hidden within myself to surface. The part of my psyche I’d inherited from my mother.
An evil, dark side that liked to hurt people with words.
“I may be ugly, but I know what it feels like to have Mark cum inside me—something you’ll never experience.”
“You cunt!” Caroline screamed as she lunged at me, but Greg caught her about the waist.
He whispered something in her ear, and her rage turned to demented giggles.
“Fine, you have been good lately. Only leaving me one mess to clean up. You can have her.”
I felt ill as they both turned on me. “Wait, what are you doing?”
Greg said nothing as he began to strip. His overweight, pasty skin seemed to glow in the bright lights of Caroline’s room. While Mark was big and took care of himself, this guy was just big. When he got down to his underwear, I began to shake, helpless in a way that threatened to rob me of my sanity.
“No, no, no, no,” I moaned. “Please, no.”
“Oh yes,” Caroline hissed as she moved just behind Greg, like a shadow or a little demon on his back. “Greg loves unwilling women. It’s his thing. And one of my things is watching him rape mouthy bitches who don’t know when to shut up.”
Tears began to pour down my cheeks as Greg paused before me, rubbing his erection through his underwear.
I struggled against my bonds. Caroline turned on this bright, peppy teen pop music and began to dance around Greg and me while he crouched before me, studying me. I stared back through my tears, terrified as I begged him not to touch me. He simply glowered back with this weird, cold distance in his gaze like I wasn’t even real. Like he wasn’t real.
Oh God, please let this not be real.
Caroline began to sing along with the chorus as Greg placed his hands on my thighs, not moving them. Just laying them there. It was an intensely threatening move somehow, making me feel his touch, knowing I couldn’t get away. Knowing what was coming.
His lower jaw dropped open a little as his touch began to inch closer to the edge of my skirt almost touching my pussy, and I wanted to throw up as I began to scream for him to stop, to please stop.
I was so focused on Greg that, at first, I was utterly and completely thrown by the feeling of warm water raining down on me.
Warm, red water.
It misted everything in my vision momentarily, and Greg and I shared a confused look right before his head exploded, and I passed out.
Seven weeks later
Joy shifted so she could hold her tiny nursing daughter in place as she adjusted the pillows surrounding her. While she said she was a hot mess, I thought she looked incredibly beautiful. Her blonde hair was up in a loose bun, and she wore velvety green lounge pants and a plain yellow nursing tank. She also glowed with happiness and good health. Despite her complaints about lack of sleep and Renee, her daughter, wanting to breastfeed eight hundred times a day, she obviously loved her life.
I envied her, deeply.
I was not loving my life.
In fact, I was miserable.
Something my friends had noticed.
Hannah came back into the living room of her house, carrying a tray filled with snacks and bottles of water. Evidently, nursing made Joy ravenous for food, and a hungry Joy wasn’t something anyone wanted to endure. After handing Joy a cookie, Hannah sat next to me on the sofa. Her long, embroidered turquoise silk skirt pooled around her.