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Scarlett

I t’s morning. Breakfast.

I’m sitting beside Alex, eating as quietly as I can while he reads some report on his phone. I don’t know where Vincent and Irene are, but I was more than a little relieved to find the dining room empty when we entered.

My head feels strange. My thoughts are muted. It’s as if I have no more words to form, as if I’ve used them all up, spent them all. I’m an empty paint pot now, with nothing but a few smears hinting at what my contents used to be.

I let out a low sigh, and even that feels lacking.

I don’t know what the fuck happened yesterday, but I know enough to realise it was bad.

Whatever Alex did to me, it clearly fucked me up big time.

My feet are cut up, my limbs ache like I’ve run a marathon and then some.

I can’t tell if any of the bruises on my skin are new or not, but it makes me feel physically sick just thinking about it.

I have to get out of this place.

My fork freezes over my plate. The slice of fruit shakes in my hand. Even the sharp taste of a grapefruit is reduced to a bland nothingness. My appetite has vanished, replaced by a gnawing dread that sits heavy in the pit of my stomach.

Beside me, Alex mutters something under his breath.

He’s angry and though he isn’t looking at me, I know his fury is directed my way. I can feel it, like the pricking of a thousand needles against my skin.

I found another note. It was in my hand, curled into my fist when I woke up. The words scrawled there in a furious line that keeps repeating in my head.

‘You crazy bitch. Do you want to die? Stop letting them win so easily.’

Some stupid part of me wanted to show Alex, to ask him what it might mean, but my gut told me that would be just as reckless as whatever silly crime ‘Past Scarlett’ apparently committed.

So instead, I screwed it up, slipped it into the fold of my pillowcase, intent on storing that with the other notes when it’s safe to do so.

I want to run, to flee this room, this house, this life.

But where would I go? I’m trapped, a prisoner on this damned island, just as my husband intended me to be.

The sudden scrape of Alex’s chair against the floor makes me jump. He stands, towering over me, his eyes cold and hard. “You think you can keep defying me?” he growls, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.

“What?” I stammer, my heart pounding in my chest. “Alex, I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Scarlett,” he snarls, slamming his hands down on the table.

The plates rattle, and I flinch, my breath catching in my throat.

“You know exactly what you did. You disobeyed me. You went outside, put yourself in danger again, dancing like a fucking idiot in a see-through nightdress like you’re some sort of whore and not my wife… ”

“Alex, please,” I whisper, tears welling up in my eyes. “I don’t remember. I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry?—”

“Sorry?” he laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. “You’re not sorry, Scarlett. But you will be.”

Before I can react, he grabs me by the arm, hauling me to my feet. I cry out in pain as his fingers dig into my flesh, leaving bruises that I know will turn into purple welts later. He drags me around the table, his grip unyielding, and I stumble after him, my heart pounding with fear.

“Alex, please,” I beg, my voice shaking. “You’re hurting me.”

He ignores my pleas, his face a mask of cold fury. He shoves me against the dining table, the edge digging into my hips. I try to push him away, but he holds me firmly in place, his hands like vice grips on my shoulders.

“You need to learn your place, Scarlett,” he growls, his breath hot on my face. “You’re my wife. How do you think it feels to have to deal with your shit day in day out?”

I shake my head, unable to form a reply. I know I’m exhausting, I know I’m hard work, but it’s not exactly my fault, is it? My brain isn’t working properly, my memory is fucked. I can no more be held responsible for my actions than a goldfish can for swimming around and around its own tank.

Tears stream down my cheeks as I shake my head, trying to twist out of his grip. “Alex, no—please don’t?—”

But my words are cut off as he forces my head down, slamming it onto the hard wooden surface of the table. Pain explodes in my skull, and stars dance before my eyes. I’m dazed, my thoughts scattered, and in that moment of weakness, he grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back.

“Open your mouth,” he commands without an ounce of empathy.

I whimper, trying to turn my head away, but his hold on my hair is unyielding. He forces my head back further, and I cry out in pain.

“Open your fucking mouth, Scarlett,” he snarls.

Terrified, I comply, my lips parting. He undoes his belt, and the sound of the leather whistling through the air makes me flinch.

Is he going to whip me? Beat me with it?

He shoves his pants down, and then he’s forcing himself past my lips, before wrapping that same belt around my throat so that he’s choking me.

I gag, my body convulsing as he thrusts deeper, while his one hand holds my head in place with a handful of my hair.

Tears stream down my cheeks, and I clutch at the thing around my neck, my nails digging into the leather, desperately trying to get it loose. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.

There’s only the harsh, brutal invasion of my mouth and the taste of him on my tongue as he tightens that belt more and more.

“That’s right, Scarlett,” he says, his voice laced with cruel satisfaction. “Choke on it. Fucking suffocate. Because this is what happens when you defy me.”

The doors to the dining room suddenly open, and Rafe stands there, his eyes going instantly wide with shock. I try to cry out, to beg him for help, but my mouth is filled with Alex, and all that escapes is a muffled, desperate sound.

Rafe’s gaze flickers from me to Alex, and for a fleeting moment, I think he’s going to intervene.

Please god, let him do something.

But then his expression hardens and he looks away, his jaw clenched. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak. He just stands there, a silent sentinel while Alex continues to force himself on me.

Alex looks over at Rafe, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Enjoying the show, little brother?” he taunts, giving the belt a hard enough yank that I swear it jumps another inch.

And all the while he never pauses in his relentless assault on my mouth.

“Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two about how to keep a woman in line. ”

Rafe’s hands clench into fists at his sides, but he says nothing. His gaze is fixed on the floor, his body rigid. I can see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw.

But still, he doesn’t move.

Still, he doesn’t help me.

My heart seems to break entirely, shattering into a million pieces.

I had thought, maybe, just maybe, Rafe was different. That he might be an ally, someone I could trust. But he’s just like Alex. Just as cruel, just as heartless.

Alex’s grip on my hair tightens, and he forces my head back further, his thrusts becoming more brutal, more punishing.

My tongue is dragged back with the motion, and it catches on my teeth, cutting enough that I can taste the blood.

I gag and choke, my body shaking with sobs.

Bile is rising in my throat, and I’m terrified I’m going to be sick.

Christ, what will he do to me if I throw up all over his dick?

I guess that’s the least of my worries because there’s big bright spots of light, pricks in my vision that tell me I’m not getting enough oxygen. A screaming noise is exploding in my ears and my hands are growing more and more desperate as I try to free myself.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t fucking breathe.

I’m going to die here. I’m going to die, in this room, with my husband’s dick down my throat.

My tears stream down my face. My eyes blur.

My body seems to slump. Just as I give in, as I give into the darkness, and the death, and whatever fate is waiting for me beyond this, Alex lets out a harsh groan and pulls out of my mouth.

He holds my head in place, his fingers tangled in my hair, and I feel the hot, sticky spray of his release on my face as he covers me.

It drips down my cheeks, mingling with my tears, and I squeeze my eyes shut as a broken gasp escapes my lips.

“Fucking useless whore,” Alex spits out, releasing my hair and stepping back.

For a second everything does go black. Everything stops.

And then I’m gasping, blinking, coming back around as he pulls the belt from my neck and I can finally get some air in.

I can hear him putting himself away, zipping up his pants. “Maybe this will be the lesson you need. Maybe now you’ll actually remember for once.”

Alex nudges me with his foot, the way one does to check that a dead thing is really expired. I’m on the floor, my body wracked with sobs because I’m too broken in this moment, too weak to even try to move. Was whatever I did so bad that I deserved this?

I can feel the warm, sticky mess on my face. I want to scrub it off, to scrub away the shame and humiliation of Alex’s cruelty, but I can barely lift my head.

The room is silent except for the sound of my ragged breathing, but I can sense Rafe still standing there, his presence a silent, accusatory shadow.

I want to scream at him, to rage against his inaction, but I can’t find the strength.

I’m hollowed out, a shell of the person I know I once was. My heart sinks as I realise that they’ve done it, they’ve truly broken me now.

Alex walks around the table, his footsteps echoing in the silent room. He stops beside me, looking down at me with a cold, disdainful expression. “Clean yourself up, Scarlett,” he says, his voice completely devoid of emotion. “You look pathetic.”

He turns and walks out of the room, but not before making some snide remark to his brother about having ‘actual work’ to do.

And then I’m alone, alone with Rafe. The silence stretches between us, a chasm filled with unspoken words and accusations. I can’t look at him, can’t bear to see the indifference in his eyes.

Christ, I was so stupid to even think this man might help me. So fucking stupid.

Finally, I hear him move. He walks towards me, his steps hesitant. He crouches down beside me, and I can feel his gaze on my face. I keep my eyes fixed on the floor, unable to meet his stare.

“Scarlett,” he says, his voice soft. He reaches out a hand as if to touch me, but I flinch away, a fresh wave of tears spilling down my cheeks.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” I whisper, my voice hoarse from Alex’s abuse. “Just leave me alone.”

He withdraws his hand, his expression closed off and I think then that he’ll just walk out, just leave me here like his brother has.

My tears become an eruption I have no control over. I sob harder and my eyes sting from the mess now mixing with my tears.

There’s no escape here. No way out.

This place is purgatory, and I’m as good as dead already.