Startling awake to heated voices, my hands were numb from their position and the cable ties biting into my wrists. My jaw ached, and angry red welts protruded like bracelets on both arms, but I still had some wiggle room to play with. I stretched my fingers, wincing at the sting, straining to hear who he was arguing with, to hear who else was in my house. Another person in the equation ramped up my fear exponentially, not a good sign, not for me by any stretch of the imagination. My time was rapidly running out and I couldn’t figure out my escape, it seemed impossible as long as my hands were tethered to this fucking bed.

A fit of anger overcame as I rattled the headboard, pulling at the binds, only serving to dig into already tender flesh. A feminine voice rose in irritation. I stopped struggling and made great effort to listen, recognising the voice. I’d heard her before, couldn’t quite place her. Not someone I knew well or had even spoken to often.  

“Finish it,” she barked angrily.

The door opened a fraction and although I heard her clear as day, I couldn’t catch on to his low reply. I wriggled on the bed again, the comforter slipping further down my body, the ties holding fast, nipping my wrists painfully. There was simply no way my hands were coming free without the ties being cut. I looked over at the door again and caught a glimpse of his back, the petrol can in his hand more alarming than the woman arguing outside my door. I slumped, defeated, my head crashing into the pillows on the bed.

God, I was so fucked. Monumentally fucked.

It was Stella. Stella was in my house which was not splendid news, in fact it was terrible news - the bitch was crazy. I was certain the woman had murder on her mind, after all, what was this? How was she connected to him, of all people? Stella must be the girlfriend.

She breezed into the room and I snapped my eyes closed. Maybe if I feigned sleep she’d piss off. Dealing with one deranged lunatic was better than two. The bed tipped to my side and the overpowering sickly, sweet smell of her perfume soured my stomach as she bent over and prodded my wrists, tutting.

“Bitch, please.” Stella’s breath wafted over my face when she spoke. “You’re awake. I’m not fucking stupid.” I kept my eyes shut, not wanting to look at the woman. “Have it your way, Laura.”

The bed shifted again, and I guessed she’d moved. The cold hand that gripped my ankle under the cover startled me.

“Oh, I could have some fun with you, sweet Laura.” Her fingers rubbed up my calf and stopped at my knee. “But, that’s not my style.” Stella squeezed then pinched my thigh so sorely I yelped out in pain. “How’s Lucca?”

My eyes sprang open and I was met with icy frigid ones. I hoped she saw the challenge in mine, I would not go down without a fight. Not this time, not ever again. I yanked my leg from her hold. “Get the fuck off me!”

“She always this feisty?” He said nothing while she cackled like a witch. “You’ll not be so mouthy by the time he’s finished with you, I guarantee it.” Stella moved her hand from under the comforter. Her hit came quick and fast, there was no time to prepare for the unexpected lash. Pain flourished on top of pain and blood trickled down my chin. “Let’s see how defiant you are with a busted jaw.”

She punched this time, a hell of a crack in the same place and I felt a tooth move. I spat the blood that had filled my mouth at her face.

She stood up, glaring at me. “Fucking bitch!”

Another punch, higher, the downward force adding more impact. My cheek smarted painfully with that one. I flashed a bloodied grin at her, unperturbed.

“He’s not gonna want you tomorrow, Laura.”

Howling with laughter, the hysterics came thick and fast. “He’s not going to want you ever.”

“You know, you’re not in any position to piss me off. In fact, I would say you’re in no position to be doing anything right now, wouldn’t you?”

She took a step back, “Take what you need, then finish it.” She waved a hand in the air and walked into the en-suite, leaving the door open, to clean herself up. I could see him lurking in the corner of the room, the can I’d seen earlier sitting at the door.

I should have kept my eyes on him though, in the next moment he was there, teetering at the side of the bed, staring down at me. His hand came around my throat as he climbed over me on the bed, his grip tightening when he straddled me much like earlier. He yanked the cover down and away from my body, exposing my breasts. I shivered violently, the chilled air and fear surrounding me only heightening the goose bumps travelling across my skin.

Tepid fingers tugged at my frigid nipple, his hand around my neck still, cruel and rough, a sharp twist then he let go. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a knife I instantly recognised. Finally, everything became too much, the slither of composure I’d managed to contain shrank to nothing. My breathing hampered through lack of air and warm fluid seep from between my legs. My bladder let go and I drenched my own bed with urine.

“Ah.” He flicked open the godawful implement I knew far too intimately and held it an inch from my face. “You remember this, I see?”

“So pretty, Jessie. Let’s see how soft that beautiful skin of yours is...”

I froze, eyes wide as the steel blade glinted before me. His grip loosened from my neck, his fingers peeling back then letting go completely. He yanked at his belt buckle and the zipper of his jeans, tearing open the denim and then shoved his hand inside, reaching for his dick.

The thought of being subjected to his brutality once more pushed me past my last point of sanity. I tried to buck him off, to wrestle his body from mine, the fucking knife coming closer and closer until he pushed the tip under my chin.

“Stop.” He leaned over me. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

What the fuck? Was he not already hurting me in the worst way?

I stilled underneath him, the wet sheets were chilly and stuck to my legs. When he pulled back up, he had his cock out and was stroking himself. I squeezed my eyes shut, the depravity of this man too much to bear. He was going to rape me, no matter what. The sick arsehole was taking it all from me again.

Stella returned, I’d forgotten all about her for a moment which wasn’t a clever thing to do. I knew what he was capable of. Her? I had no idea, which, in my mind, made her more dangerous. I shifted to face her, watching as she sat in the chair beside the bed. One leg was slung over the other, her high heeled foot swinging back and forth in obvious agitation. She crossed her arms over her chest and I didn’t fail to notice her attempt to clean my blood from her blouse. I took small satisfaction I’d ruined her silk top.

When I heard him grunt, my attention veered his way again and Jesus Christ, I wished I hadn’t looked. He was turned on and wanking on top of me, like he got off on the fact Stella was watching even more. His hand was moving up and down his angry, purple dick with a quick pace, he was engrossed, transfixed by his own hand.

Some of my fear abated as I lay morbidly fascinated with the unfolding scene, it was the strangest thing. Maybe because when he came - and he would - that he’d be vulnerable, that he would lose the semblance of power he held over me for a few seconds. The situation was futile, the knife beside my head as good as useless. With my hands still tied to the bed, I couldn’t make a grab for it.

A fierce grip on my breast yanked my focus back. I shrieked at the pain, twisting to be free. Stella held tight and grinned menacingly at me, a silent promise of more pain to come.

“You wanna fuck her, baby?” Stella said, her voice sappy and caring, like she was talking to a child. Oh yeah, she ruled him, he wasn’t lying when he said he’d do anything for her.

“Ugh...fuck...yeah...”

His weight pushed into me as he jerked himself quicker. As disturbing as the situation was, I managed to find the humour and screeched like a deranged idiot. If you didn’t laugh, you cried, right? Truthfully, I was going crazy, absolutely crazy.

“You wanna fuck me, baby?” I mimicked her words, my absurdity meant to piss her off although Lord knew why. Stella held all the power in the room. We were only pawns playing her game.

It was the wrong thing to say. He shuffled down my body and hauled the cover completely off me, so I was naked beneath him. If he felt the wet spot, he never let on. Rough hands grabbed at my thighs, thumbs digging in harshly as he pried my legs apart with relative ease despite my half-hearted attempt at fighting back. His cock rubbed at the bottom of my belly and I silently begged that was as far as he would go, hoping my plea would be answered. His grunts gained volume, and my nausea gained momentum.

“Fuck, yeah...take it, bitch. I’m gonna stuff your arse when I’ve finished with your mouth.” Grunt. Groan. Heave. “I’m gonna fuck you everywhere, Jessie...”

Stella stood and bent to kiss him. “Hurry. I want rid of the whore. Lucca doesn’t get to have her. Make it hurt, make her bleed. Just like you did before.”

Without sparing me a fleeting look, she moved to the bedroom door and watched him as he shifted his position, sliding between my legs.

“No.” Sobbing, I came to my senses. “Don’t do this.”

But he did, poking at my entrance and I cried harshly, even with his lack of brutality and forcefulness, I couldn’t let him do this to me again. I struggled with the ties, crying painfully when I felt the skin break on one of my wrists.

He reached up and stroked the damp hair away from my face. “Shhh...”

“Let me go.” I could only whisper in the moment.

“I can’t, Jessie.” He looked almost regretful, yet he still moved his hips back and forth like he was teasing a lover and not violating me in the obscenest of ways. “I can’t.” He laid a gentle kiss at my bruised throat.

Waves of revulsion coursed through me and I choked on salty tears that threatened to drown me. He was going to take anyway. If I struggled and fussed he would simply take harder, my punishment more painful. If I caved would he go easy, not hurt me?

His cock nudged into me, waking me the fuck up.

“No! No, no, no!”

His lips at my neck turned into teeth as he bit savagely and forced his filthy self inside me. My body tensed, then sagged. losing all my fight, with no way to win.

“Remember how it used to be?”

Oh, how I did. The sun once rose in this man’s eyes and now there was nothing, which was the saddest part. He’d had the inclination to claim he’d loved me once, I still didn’t understand how it all went so wrong. I had worshipped him, and he’d worshipped me right back. Until the day he ripped my entire life away. It was then I remembered the other side of him, the side that destroyed everything I had once been.

“Look at that, Jessie.” A harsh slap to the cheek of my arse roused my failing consciousness. A thick stab of pain pulsated up my spine as he shoved in farther than the first time. A brutal intrusion. Vicious fingers pushed my head to the wooden floor, each time I tried to breathe I choked on the blood pooled around my mouth. “I love fucking your arse, Jessie. You like it, hhmm?”

“Let me feel it one last time?” He pulled out, only to push back in languidly, like he had all night to torment me. “Please...”

He begged, and I caught my opening, my escape came within the breath of one word. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I searched for an opportunity to aid the weakness I’d found.

Sure, he was fucking me, raping me, but he wasn’t physically hurting me in the act. I looked toward the door to see Stella no longer stood there, she was gone - along with the petrol can. The faint smell of fumes hit my nostrils and I understood then, my time was up.

“Let me touch you.” I eyed my bound hands, showing him my meaning rather than voicing, putting my vague plan into action.

He pulled out, thank fuck, he pulled out. The inward sigh of relief was long, and I tried to squeeze my legs shut with no effect, his thighs between mine holding me open. He didn’t move from on top of me like I’d anticipated, and my heart fell. He fumbled for the knife and reached up to slice through one of the cable ties effortlessly, before dropping the knife to the bed again.

Running his hand down my bruised and sore cheek, he kissed me. Slow and deliberate, like I still hung the moon for him, like he used to kiss me before. I didn’t return it, not wanting his kiss nor his affection. My hand came down to grip the locks of his dark hair and I jerked his face from mine. I glowered, feeling as if we were caught in some surreal moment. A moment I would never understand or accept.

“Adam...”

Bang!

The noise was so loud it deafened me, the blood and gore splattered across my face had me pitching and screaming and frantically trying to push him off me. His dead weight wouldn’t budge, I couldn’t roll him, couldn’t escape the carnage oozing from the side of his head, down onto me.

My free hand scrabbled to find the knife to cut my other wrist loose, my hand shaking so hard the task seemed impossible until my fingertips brushed against the hilt. I tried to saw my way through the remaining cable tie, the knife slipping through my bloodied hand, the blade catching my palm time and time again. The thick copper smell tainting the air was now tinged with acrid smoke and I sucked in a breath on a choke. I spat what I could from my mouth, trying to buck Adam off me and cut at the same time. I was frantic and losing it with each passing second, the corners of my mind collapsing in on me, the darkness barrelling toward me.

The full horror of that moment assaulted me. A bloodshot eye stared at me accusingly. I struggled to comprehend the situation, the gaping hole in his head the only answer. I screamed. And screamed, and screamed...