Thump. Thump. Thump.

I feel it. Feel him.

When I woke up, he was gone. I’d called twice, and he didn’t respond. I’m not sure where Callan went, but my post bliss was gone, and panic was setting in. And then Hudson strolled in. I’m not sure what he gave me, but my body is boneless. I can’t move as I lean against the cabinet in the bathroom.

I want to run, but I can’t leave. My father sent a message telling me the wedding has been moved up to tomorrow, and that’s when Hudson wandered into the bedroom, holding me down as he injected me with something. Anger fizzled into sadness then into fear. My heart aches for the man I’ve grown to love, and now I’m here, stuck with a man I hate.

There’s no way for me to get out of here. I have no driver or car. The two men who were watching the lake house have left, and I’m alone with someone who’s trying to hurt me, and I’m fearful that he’ll get it right.

It’s far too quiet. I don’t know where he went, not even a sound comes from the kitchen which makes me wonder what’s going to happen to me. I’m alone with my thoughts. The memories both steal my breath and hurt my heart. The memories of last night with Callan are forever emblazoned in me.

Like a scar. A tattoo that will last long after I take my final breath.

He wasn’t here to love me. He made me cry and scream.

But it was his ruthlessness that made me fall for him.

I glance down at the ruby color on my thighs. And for the first time in my life, I’m not the one who’s done it.

I’ve been so strong, but now that I watch the open cuts drip, I allow it to release the pain in my chest. Long ago, before I’d attempted to do it, I read about the act of cutting. Had seen the horrific images on the internet, but it didn’t stop me. At thirteen I still took a razor blade to my flesh and watched as the deep-red liquid trickled from my wounds.

It was a release.

I felt as if all the bad things that happened to me were finally being expunged, and I got addicted to the feeling. The same way a drug addict or alcoholic feels when they shoot up or take a drink. It’s scary how much you need it, crave it. Since I was young, I’ve found release in it. I was okay when I’d woken up with Callan gone only an hour ago. I thought perhaps he was just out at the store, or something. But Hudson arrived and dragged me in here, then took a blade to my thighs.

I’ve struggled all my life with the pain inside. When Callan was around, I forgot about it, pushed it aside. But with him gone now, and Hudson here, I think my father had something to do with it. I’ve learned one thing about Daddy — whatever he wants, he gets. I glance at my phone which was hidden in the pocket of my shorts, pressing send on the message to Callan. It may be the last one I ever get to him.

A tear trickles its way down my cheek. I hear the door. And then the footsteps.

It’s Hudson, and he’s here to finish what he started. He’s wanted everything my father has for so long, and now he’s taking it, piece by piece.

The depression clouds around me. I feel it again, niggling away at me. Wanting to be let out, to drip from my skin. My sadness stemmed from a childhood of being bullied, from parents who didn’t care, and from a mother who walked out. Left before I had time to even know her. Some people may think it’s an excuse. They look at me and wonder how someone who’s had everything her heart could desire could ever feel like I do. But material things don’t offer solace. They don’t hold you when you’re scared.

But Callan did.

He somehow mended those shattered pieces of me.

With his rough exterior, harsh commands, and his gentle soul, he hid behind high walls, I felt whole for the first time in a long while. I’ve never allowed anyone to get close enough to give something of myself. But he saw it. He filtered through my words, my smiles and sass, and he found the girl beneath.

Somehow, in our differences, we fit perfectly. His jagged edges with my soft curves. It’s as if he slotted himself inside me, and now, I’ll never rid myself of him.

It’s been a long while since I sat in this position on my bathroom floor. When I finally went for help, I didn’t think I’d ever find myself here again, but the pain has returned. He’s the one who walked out, and I let him. I told him to leave, and he did.

What did I expect?

The silver glints at me. It reminds me of the high. The freedom from pain.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Hudson hisses when he sees my phone on the floor beside me. “You’re a stupid little bitch just like Amber warned me.” His hate-fueled words swirl around me. I feel drunk, drugged, my limbs are limp, and I can no longer move them. There are hands on me, but I’m weak. I can’t fight him this time. He drags me by my arms to the bedroom. Lifting me easily, Hudson places me on the bed.

“Amber,” I whimper when he leaves me and heads back to the bathroom. I’m confused. What is he talking about?

When he returns, he’s carrying the blade he had earlier. “You see, I’ve been fucking your beautiful blonde friend for years.” His words slice into me like the razor blade itself, the pain acute. It’s his tone, that vicious anger, that hurts me. I don’t care about Hudson, but deep down, that teenage girl who wanted to be beautiful like the other girls rears her head.

“Why are you doing this?”

He smirks. Moving onto the bed, he straddles me, pressing me into the mattress. Hudson lifts my arm, pushing the blade into my wrist, and I can’t help wincing.

“Don’t you like this?” he questions, and I watch in horror as he slices into the caramel flesh of my wrist.

“No, please! Hudson,” I cry out, but it’s no use. I try to punch him, to shake him off like I learned in self-defense classes, but he’s learned my moves. And I can’t shake him. His fist connects to my face so painfully I cry out in agony.

“You see,” he starts, “when they find your lifeless body, nobody will care, because you did this to yourself.” He informs me of this confidently. And he’s right. I’ve been doing this for far too long to hide it, and he knows it. He knew it all along.

My head is spinning from the loss of blood and the harsh attack from his large fist. “Please.” My voice sounds weaker than I want it to. The clothes I’m wearing are turning red from the blood dripping onto me. He grips my neck, tightening his hold on me, and I can feel my lungs protest.

“Fuck, you look so pretty all broken. I should’ve done this a long time ago. At least Amber lets me have my way with her,” Hudson hisses. His hips undulate above me, his erection pressing into my body. My stomach convulses as he jerks himself off against me.

“Stop. Please?”

“One more time? For old time’s sake,” he says, ripping my tank top open, exposing my breasts. My panties soon follow, and he’s pushing my thighs apart. I’m not ready. My body is not responding, but he doesn’t notice.

I feel him nudge my entrance. “Please, no. No, Hudson!” I cry out when he drives into my dry core, and it feels like I’m ripped apart.

“You’re so tight, Madicakes,” he coos in my ear. My stomach rolls with revulsion. He’s kneeling, lifting my hips against him so his hands are free to maul my breasts. He tugs and pulls on my nipples. The blood from my wrist is no longer trickling—it’s rushing from the wound.

“Please,” I whimper, attempting to stop the bleeding, but Hudson rips my left hand away.

“I’ll cut both,” he warns. “Then I’ll make you come all over my cock like the little whore you are. Does it get you off?” he questions. “Cutting your flesh? Because fuck, your pretty ruby blood is making me hard.”

“Stop. Hudson.” My voice is hoarse, and I’m slowly losing consciousness. My eyes flutter as he continues to violate me. The thickness of him inside my dry channel bring tears to my eyes.

The light is gone. My eyes are closed. I think. I can hear him. The grunting. There’s pain in my stomach. I’m not sure what it is, but it hurts. I can’t open my eyes. He finally releases my neck, but I can’t pull in air.

I gasp, but it’s not helping.

“Goodbye, Madicakes. I couldn’t come inside you, or they’d know I was here,” he laughs. Evil. Sadistic. And then I’m alone.