Page 23

ANASTASIA

Does he think I feel anything for him? I don’t. That hasn’t always been the case, but it is now. When I was a stupid little kid, I had a crush on him. Even though he was mean to me, the way he protected me made me think I loved him. Now I feel nothing for him, other than pure hatred, but I can’t deny the piercings on his dick feel really fucking good. He told me to take the pleasure, because there’s nothing more he’d give me. That’s what I’m doing, because it’s not like I have a choice. If he wants to have sex with me, he will, and it doesn’t matter how loud I scream. The fact is, Massimo Bonetti may have no other redeeming qualities, but he’s good in bed.

I will never admit it to him, but yes, I like the pain. There are a few depraved things I’m learning about myself that I don’t like. The pain, and the degradation, are not what he thinks they are. I like it, fucking love it. The only thing he has done, that I didn’t get off on, was licking the damn floor. That was disgusting, but the rest, I don’t hate like I should.

Leaning his head down, he licks at the blood on my neck with a groan. Drawing his hips back as he bites down on the wound, he pushes back inside me. I moan instantly from the feeling of the metal massaging my insides. It’s not just the piercings, but the way he knows how to move, to hit that delicious spot exactly right.

“Mmm,” he groans against my skin, “I think you like being my fuck doll, little lamb.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I dig my nails into his shoulders, while he moves inside me like a man possessed. Psycho pulls out slowly, making sure I feel every rung of his piercings, before he slams back inside my pussy.

He hovers over me, a hand on either side of my shoulders, and stares at me, with a light coating of my blood on his lips. Leaning down further, he captures my lips with his. He growls into my mouth, as he pushes his tongue against mine, forcing me to taste my own blood. Fucking me with long strokes, he hits that sweet spot inside me repeatedly. The one that makes my body climb higher and higher. For a moment, I think I see him. The person I once knew, and I’m sure I spot something familiar, and then I come, and everything changes in an instant.

“Psycho,” I cry out in an orgasm, and his gaze turns cold as ice, as he presses the knife into my skin again, harder than before.

“I want to watch you bleed to death. Never do I go back on my agreements, but I want to. I’ve never wanted to kill someone more than I want to kill you,” he growls angrily, which is confusing, because I don’t know what I did.

Picking up his pace, he fucks me like an angry animal, with hard, punishing thrusts. After he finishes inside me, he gets up.

“You’ll be locked inside this room. My staff will feed you three meals, nothing more, nothing less.”

I stare at him with confusion, because I know he doesn’t like me. He hates me, but the sudden spike in anger has me feeling more off balance than I already was.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes,” he answers with a glare.

“When are you coming back?”

Psycho turns his head to the door, and speaks low, but matter-of-factly.

“When I can stomach looking at you.”

The flashback is instant, and attacks me head on, as he slams the door shut.

“I can’t even stand to look at you,” Carlo says, as he stands with his belt in his hand. I know what happens next. He’s going to beat me with it, it’s become his go to, whenever we argue, which lately is constantly. His green eyes are wide with anger, as he steps closer to me. I won’t fight him. We both know I won’t, because I won’t risk waking Michael. The last thing I need is for our three-year-old to walk in on his daddy beating mommy. Children learn what they see, so I’m careful to never cause him to lose his temper when Michael is awake. It’s my fault, I know it is. I shouldn’t have questioned where he had been. I knew how this would play out, but I was pissed when I saw a smear of lipstick on his shirt. Now it’s not worth it.

He wraps the belt around my throat, and tightens it, until he cuts off my air supply.

“I told you I’d make you learn your place, one way or another. Of course, I’m fucking other women. You disgust me.”

I’d like to ask him why he makes me have sex with him every day, if I’m so repulsive, but I can’t, with a belt strangling me.

“Mommy. Mommy,” my little boy cries, as he races toward Carlo.

The evil glint in my husband’s eyes causes me to shake my head, as his grip loosens. I take in a gulp of air, and plead with him to not hurt my son. When Carlo becomes angry, there’s no stopping it, so I know this is going to get worse before it gets better.

“Don’t hurt him. It was me, all me. I’m sorry.”

He removes the belt from my neck, and turns to the son we created together. Carlo has never been a great father, but he’s never hit Michael either. With the belt in his hand, he raises it, and I grab a knife. I’ve never fought him off, but for my son, I will kill him with my bare hands, if I have to.

Racing over to him, he places the leather around Michael’s neck and, as he tightens it, I stab him in the back with a butcher knife, but it doesn’t stop him. It doesn’t slow him down. I wrap my arm around his throat, trying to pull him back, and away from our boy. My everything. It doesn’t work. Instead, he pulls tighter, until I watch my sweet dark-haired boy slump to the floor.

I pull the knife out, and plunge it into his back over and over again, until he falls to the floor, beside the little boy that not only made me a mother. He gave me life. In only minutes, Carlo took everything from me.

That day is never far from my mind, and neither is my part in it. The guilt weighs heavily on me, and I spend most days feeling like I’m carrying a boulder on my back. After it happened, I had no one to turn to. Mrs. Bonetti was no longer in my life, and my own mother was already in her depressed state. The loneliness was crippling, and the flashbacks are still intense.

I let out a shaky sigh, as I try to remind myself that I hate Massimo Bonetti. His words don’t matter. Yet, somehow they do.

There are some things in life you never get over. Losing your child, to an act of violence at the hands of his father, is one of those. The darkness fills your heart and never leaves. You somehow manage to keep breathing, even when you don’t want to. The pain never leaves. It’s always there, and all-consuming. The only thing possibly worse than the pain itself is the guilt. I am the reason my son is dead. I knew better than to fight with Carlo. His blood is on my hands, and I will never forgive myself.