Page 17 of Beautiful Nightmare

Prince’s voiceenters my head. It’s loud, possessive, and terrifying.

I try to look around, find the source, but I’m greeted by wet hair slapping me in the face instead.

With my arms still pumping, they give me the momentum I need to reach the manor.

Just as I make it to the back door, his voice invades my mind once more.

We will makethe world dance for us.

Screaming into the night,exhausted and on the brink of a nervous fucking breakdown, I shriek, “Get out of my head!”

The door is unlocked, and it opens as I turn the brass knob. Stepping inside, darkness greets me, comfort fills my body, and I hope this house does the one thing it has never done before… protect me.

10

ROYCE

Submerging my body under the lukewarm water, I lie in the tub with my eyes wide open, looking up at the ceiling. Agatha’s bedroom door was closed as I peered down the hall, and the rest of the house was quiet, with no sign of Prince.

Hiding in my blood-red bathroom, I started a bath, where I am now decompressing inside.

When I first saw my reflection as the water filled the tub, I was mortified. It was horrific. If anyone were to have seen me, they would have thought I was fleeing the scene of a mass murder. Not an inch of my body was free of blood, the top of my dress barely keeping my breasts covered due to the weight of it. My purple eyes were the only contrast other than my teeth when I opened my mouth in shock.

Sliding the thin straps off my shoulders, I let my dress fall off my body, bunched around my feet, on the floor, where it remains now.

My lungs contract the longer I stay underwater without oxygen, and my arms shake as I stop them from reaching up to grip the sides of the porcelain tub. Counting back from five, I decide if I make it to one, I will get up, but I take my time in doing so.

Five.

I try to calm my mind.

Four.

If I were to attempt to process the events of tonight, it would only cause me to spiral further.

Three.

What is meant to be will conquer.

GET UP!

His voice is back, and my body shoots up out of the water. My lungs gasp, taking in the air they so desperately were begging for with my eyes wide open. The cool edge of the bathtub grounds me as I sit here in shock.

A loud whimper catches my attention. Slowly, my eyes trace over the red subway tiles against the wall. The black countertop is bare, but the edge displays familiar hands.

In a cream milkmaid-style dress, the corsetcinched around the waist and the hem ruffled at the hips,hiscock forcefully fills her from behind as he holds her head…myhead forward, forcing me to watch through the reflection of the mirror.

With kicking legs, I attempt to force him off of me.

Bucking back has zero effect. He likes it, grinning widely and daring me to continue.

“I hate you!” I snarl.

His voice is low, and his response is short but powerful. “Good.”

Fresh cuts decorate my bare arms, red stains my white hair. I am horribly broken and an easy prey for my tormentor.

Loud grunts overshadow the whimpers of distress, and the black bathroom door steadily opens. An old lady with boring brown garments stands in the opening, watching, emotionless. My purple eyes move their focus in the mirror to her, to Agatha, pleading for her to help me, but she does nothing. She stands, still watching, still emotionless. Agatha was never an ally, yet for a moment I had hope.