“Maybe now you’ll stop pretending you don’t know what you are,” he growls as he lines himself up behind me.
A feral scream bursts from my lips as I feel his dick tear through my asshole, shattering the last shred of hope I had of getting out of this in one piece.
Time stills, and suddenly I’m not me anymore. I’m not Tyler’s or any of the men I’ve fucked before. I’m empty, something for someone to use and dispose of once they’ve had their fill. A lifeless body bending to their will. Alive but not.
Just a dream dressed in flesh and bone, beautiful only when I’m breaking beneath them.
The tears don’t stop falling downmy face, a small puddle forming on the cold tile as he assaults my ass and pussy over and over again. Flipping me around into every position he wants me in.
At some point, his friend joins, as well as a knife that Tyler had stashed somewhere. I can hear the tearing of my panties and my skin as he drags the blade across my flesh, creating bloody reminders of his touch wherever he wants.
By the time he’s done, it feels like hours have passed. I can barely feel the bottom half of my body when he stands over me, covering my stomach in his final release. It’s stickiness mixing with the blood and dirt coating my body.
I feel so fucking disgusting.
His eyes darken as he looks down at me.
“My dick looks so good covered in your blood, slut. Too bad it didn’t make very good lube. That probably would’ve helped, huh?” He taunts as he leans down and spits onto my chest, the warm liquid spreading over me like a disease, seeping its way into my being.
A constant reminder thathewas there.
Tyler stands abruptly, the movement so quick it causes me to flinch. He stares at me for just a moment before releasing a deep chuckle as he begins to straighten his faded band tee. Turning around, he heads toward the door, his friend following not too far behind.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back for you soon, little slut,” he says as the door clicks shut.
I hold my breath, the sudden silence is deafening–my least favorite enemy.
I reach for the edge of the sink and pull myself off the grime-coated floor, my muscles screaming at me in response.
Everything. Fucking. Hurts.
My eyes drift up slowly to the mirror, a reflection I don’t recognize staring back at me. Tattoos of all shapes and sizes cover my body, bruised and scratched through. Blood and tears coat my face. It’s a macabre piece of pain, the layers of dirt and tinycuts showing a battle I lost but never wanted to be in to begin with.
I grip the edge of the sink so hard I know my knuckles are turning white. I’m trying, searching to find some sort of stability as my world starts to spin. My breath hitches, and I can feel my muscles starting to panic.
No. No. No.
Not now.
Breathe, babe…breathe.
I try to distract myself by fixing my makeup in the mirror, while somehow also trying to avoid my own gaze as much as possible–a goal that’s not easily attainable. The tears linger at my lash line, waiting to spill over, but I won’t let them. I refuse.
He’s not getting any-fucking-thing else from me.
CHAPTER 5
Ronan
“Woah, what the fuck?” I say as my hand catches the bathroom door just inches before it slams into my face.
“Oh, shit, I-I’m sorry.”
A pair of red-rimmed deep blue eyes peek around the corner, catching mine, and time itself freezes, like someone clicked pause on a remote or something.
Standing in front of me is the embodiment of darkness itself, a vision I’ve only ever seen in my dreams.
It’sher.
