Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
"I'm going to release you so I can wash you properly. But I swear, if you try anything, you will regret it.” His voice is sharp, a barbed wire digging into my skin. It’s not a warning; it’s a promise.
I remain silent since I know it's what he wants. We’ve played this game before.
He grabs a washcloth and a bar of soap from the counter and then stares at me with a look of malice-tinged glee. "Let me clean you up, Little Dove.” He scrubs me with the cloth, his fingers spreading and working through the scratchy cotton until my skin is raw.
I’m helpless. It’s how he likes me. All I can do is stand here, swallowing soft cries, while I keep my eyes trained on him, watching...waiting...for the inevitable signs things will go bad.
My skin crawls as his hands skim up and down my sides, dipping between my thighs. I barely resist the urge to clamp my legs closed but remind myself of the consequences at the last moment. If I do, he'll punish me for denying him what he wants, what is his.
The longer I hold out, the easier it will be to escape.
He dips his fingers up to prod between my legs and then further back, and this time I can’t hold back the tears. Shame burns through me as those tears escape.
"Little Dove, he hasn't fucked you here yet?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond, and merely continues as if he hadn’t asked me a question. “Hmm. Nevermind, I already know the answer. Good. This hole will be mine. All mine."
Gently, almost reverently, he prods against my asshole. Breathing becomes impossible as fear claws its way through my insides, using my ribcage as a ladder.
He’s going to hurt me again. Take until there is nothing left.
A whimper slips out of me, and his mouth slides along the side of my neck, and then it happens. Suddenly I’m outside my body, watching like a bystander on the street. I don’t get what is happening as I watch myself reach up and grab the shower head. A cold wave washes through me, soothing the aches and pains. Calming me in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. It detaches from the wall after a brief struggle, and I stare at myself bringing the metal piece down on Yanov’s head.
He stumbles backward, as if dazed. A longing for revenge and peace rips me apart from the inside out. An anguished cry filters through the pounding drum of my heartbeat, and I lift the shower head and bring it down again, smashing it against his skull. I do it again. And again. More. Harder. Faster. Watching as he falls to his knees. Water continues to spray down on us, washing some of the blood splatter down the drain, while the rest smears and dots the tile wall.
Fight back, you coward. Be the man you always said you were. Hit me.
I want to scream the words, but they never escape. In the end, there is nothing left to say. Nothing will change what must happen. To truly be free, you must break the chains holding you in place. My hands are trembling as an involuntary shiver skates down my spine. I sink back into my body, the cold giving way to pain, a deep dark ache in my chest. Oh my God. What have I done?
Some part of me always knew how this would end. One of us dead. I should be thankful it’s not me...and yet. Nausea churns deep in my gut. His leg twitches, brushing mine.
End it. End him.
Raising his hands first, then he lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine. “Ely, don’t do this. You aren’t a killer. This isn’t you.”
His words slur, and he tries to stand, but he can’t seem to get his legs to work.
But his eyes. Those dark, soulless orbs tell another story. Even with his life hanging in the balance, the evilness inside of him bleeds through.
The promise of pain and retribution reflect back at me.
No. This ends now. Today. I will never be his plaything again.
“You have no idea who I am.” I grit the words through my teeth, and then I pull back and smash the metal against the side of his head again. Blood splatters across my stomach and the wall, and I stare down at it.
I should be freaking out, worried about what will happen next, but none of those things matter. A strange sense of calm coats me from the inside, healing some of the deep wounds he left so many years ago.
I’m safe, protected. After today he’ll never hurt me again. I’ll never be faced with running again.
I don’t think, don’t even feel as I raise the shower head and let it fall, hitting him with it again...over and over. Each blow is harder and faster than the previous. My lungs heave, and my muscles burn, my heart galloping in my chest.