Page 6

When we reached my apartment, Hobbs walked past me and entered the bathroom. I stood next to the door, trying my damndest to keep my tears under control. My body felt like it was on fire. A morbid part of me wanted to look in the mirror, but I was afraid of looking at my reflection.

Eventually, Hobbs left the bathroom with a wet washcloth. He was quiet as hebegan runningit gently over my body, wiping up the man juice. After dabbing the blood from my lip,heleaned over and kissed me gently. I did nothing as he continued to kiss me repeatedly, dragging his lips down to my jaw and neck. He pressed a hand to my stomach and started pushing me backward.

"What are you doing?" I asked in a timid tone, pulling away.

"Shhh," he whispered as hecontinued to guideme toward the bed.

Tears welled up in my eyes. "No, please, Trevor, don't."

"Shhh. Sit down. It'll be alright."

"Please don't do this. My body hurts." My words came out as a sob.

"I'll make it feel better,"he cooed.

Hobbs climbed on top of me, laying the weight of his body on mine. Several thoughts crossed my mind: I could fight him. I'm not weak. One of Hobbs' biggest complaints is that I'm too muscular. I should stick a finger in his eye and run like hell . But what good would that do? He would only drag me back and hurt me worse. More time would be placed on my books, and I would be his prisoner forever.

A soft cry of pain left my throat as his cock slid into me. Lightning blazed throughout my body with every thrust, and tears streaked down my face. "Stop. Please, stop, Trevor. It hurts."

He stayed silent despite my pleas, pressing a hand firmly against my mouth as he continued fucking my body. Hewas tryingto be gentle, but I had been torn to pieces. "It will be okay. You're being such a good boy. You feel so fucking good."

I moaned past his palm, but it wasn't a moan of pleasure. I just wanted it to stop. I needed it to stop. Frantically, I staredupat the light fixture, trying to force myself into a daydream. I'm not here. This isn't happening to me. I am safe.I am a child again,in the park,playing in the sandbox.I am not here. This isn't happening.

I don't know how long it took for Hobbs to finish and pull out. When he did, I didn't move but followed him with my eyes. He bent over to pick up the washcloth and wipe himself off. That was when I saw the blood. He did that to me, knowing the other man made me bleed.

I looked at the ceiling, trying to fight the involuntary tremors raging through my body. I didn't move. When the door opened and shut, I gradually sat up, staying still for a long while until I was sure Hobbs wasn't coming back.

With shaky breaths, I slid from the bed, wincing with every step to the bathroom. I turned on the shower and stepped in, not bothering to wait for it to heat up.The momentthe water hit my skin, I slid down against the wall until I was practically a ball on the floor. Tears ran from my eyes as I sobbed heavily. "I'm sorry!"I cried into the nothingness. "I'm sorry! Please make it stop! Please!"I don't know who I was crying to. I had never believed in any god. Maybe I just wanted the universe to forgive me. I was young, stupid, jealous, and hot-headed. Yes, I was a criminal, but I didn't deserve this. I would do anything to take it all back. I just wanted it to stop. My imprisonment was destroying me, eating my very soul. I wasn't going to survive much longer.

As that thought crossed my mind, my body stiffened. Slowly, I pulled myself to my feet, shutting off the water. I didn't bother drying off before standing in front of the mirror. My eyes were swollen, my lip was busted, and my neck was black and blue. God only knew what color my ass and back were. Further down, I had an almost black bruise on my pelvis.

Sneering, I balled up my fist and jabbed the mirror. Nothing happened. I did it again and again, making my knuckles throb with pain. I didn't stop until blood smeared my reflection. "Fuuuuuuuuuck!"I screamed. The mirror was made of shatterproof glass. I didn't put so much as a scratch on it.

Turning away, I rushed to one of the porno pictures, only to scream again in irritation. There was no glass. There was nothing that could help me. My gaze darted to the dresser. Flinging the drawer open, I pulled the orange shackles out, trying to stretch them as far as they could go around my neck. I cursed and threw them on the ground. They were too short, and I had nothing to attach them to. Hobbs had made my apartment suicide-proof. Why wouldn't he? I made him money.

But there was one thing Hobbs didn't count on. If he was stupid enough to allow me free roam, I would take advantage of that. I yanked open another dresser and pulled out my little green case with the needle inside.