Page 51 of Apathy
It was his favorite position. Me defenseless, crying out, begging for release, begging for something I couldn’t even voice. And tonight… Tonight he was more vicious than ever before.
“You are such a good slut,” he groaned as he kept dragging his dick through my folds, teasing me, taunting me, poisoning me over and over and over again. Tonight, he refused to give me what I needed.
Tonight, he wanted me to feel everything, to scream, to cry, to remember the viciousness he bestowed upon me. Tonight, my happy little pill was nowhere to be seen, and my skin kept shattering under his touch.
The dark mahogany headboard in front of me became blurry as my eyes filled with tears again when he slapped my ass. The pain, the shame, there was no escape tonight. My cheek still throbbed from where he slapped me as soon as I walked through the door. My throat felt raw, and I kept swallowing the sobs threatening to erupt from my chest.
He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of hearing my pleas for mercy, because this monster behind me, he didn’t know what mercy was. He only knew pain, suffering, and the eternal damnation he was condemning me to.
He pinched my clit, drawing out another scream from me, another painful reminder that all of this wasn’t a dream, but a nightmare, and I was never going to wake up. His labored breathing mixed with the sound of the pounding rain on the outside was like a symphony of terror.
Piano, mezzo forte, fortissimo, he went through the stages of quiet, louder, and extremely loud breathing. I remembered all those piano lessons Ms. Andrievich tried to drill into my brain, and Beethoven’s symphonies I could never remember.
I focused on my fingers gripping the white sheets on the bed. I focused on the memories from the time when life wasn’t so tragic, and when I thought that the future held something beautiful. I never thought I would end up here. Battered, bruised, broken, only looking for salvation in the form of oblivion, because I couldn’t live with myself. I couldn’t live with what he did to me. What I did to myself.
So, I ran.
I ran from my mind. I hid from my friends. I lied to my brother, and I kept searching for something that would take away this despair coating my insides.
“You’re dripping wet for me,” he murmured as he kneeled lower, placing his face in front of my pussy. “I’m gonna lick you, but you don’t get to come.”
No, no, no.
“You don’t get to come, because you couldn’t do one simple thing.” Another slap against my ass. “You couldn’t get the information I needed.”Slap. “And for that, you will be punished.”
“Please,” I moaned as he slapped my pussy. I almost jumped, but I knew that would only anger him more. I gripped the sheets and braced myself. I accepted the punishment, even though it wasn’t necessary.
“You had one job!” Another slap. “One fucking job!”
He massaged my ass where he slapped me earlier, and I couldn’t help myself, moaning when he dipped one finger inside me. No matter how much I hated him, my body always betrayed me. My mind was screaming, my heart breaking, but my body wanted the release he could give me.
And I needed it now.
If I couldn’t forget, if I couldn’t pretend that this depravity didn’t exist, I wanted to at least bask in the glow of an orgasm.
He wrapped his hand around my throat, pulling me backward, nestling his dick between my ass cheeks. “What are the St. Clares planning?” he asked again, as if I knew the answer to that question.
He wanted me to get closer to Kane, to use him and extract the information, but Kane was more fucked up than I was. He couldn’t remember his own name most days, and extracting any additional information about his family was useless.
“I don’t know,” I cried out, choking on my tears, on my despair. “I swear, he didn’t mention anything.”
“Then maybe I should kill you both and get the information myself.” He snickered in my ear and licked my neck, still holding me captive. “Maybe I should fuck you in front of him and break his heart.”
No.
“That boy is in love with you.”
Wrong. Kane thought he was in love with me, but he didn’t know what love was. Love wasn’t supposed to hurt. It wasn’t supposed to suffocate you, chain you, trap you… It was supposed to be pure, freeing, not toxic and caging. We didn’t know how to love.
What we thought we had, that wasn’t love. That was lust. A need to have somebody else drown with you, so that you wouldn’t be alone. And we were drowning.
All of us were drowning, we just didn’t want to admit that. All of us had demons to fight, we just didn’t know how.
I stopped fighting mine when Zane’s body was found that night. I stopped wishing for salvation, for redemption, because those would never come.
“Did you like his dick, pretty girl?” he asked as the tip of his dick pressed against my opening. “Did his dick leave you hanging, or did you manage to come?”
He impaled me in one thrust, painfully stretching me, cutting through my soul. Every time he did this, he managed to tear pieces of me, and he loved it. He knew what he was doing. He knew I would never be able to go back from this.
