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“Now why the fuck are you actually wearing this?” Daren saunters forward, falling back onto the couch next to me. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s fuckin’ hot. I’ve dreamt of you lookin’ like this for me. But I know you ain’t like this for me . So you see where my problem is?”

He runs his knuckle along my thigh, and I scramble back, balling up as tight as possible. I know what’s about to happen. I know, and I don’t think I’m strong enough right now to stop it. To stop him. My body aches, every movement hurts, and seeing mother’s back as she left me—

Daren laughs. “I’d say I’m not gonna hurt you, but I’ve heard it always hurts the first time and I like to be a little rough.” He grabs my ankle and pulls me down the couch closer to him. The fresh welts on my back drag against the rough material of the cushion, and I yelp. “Plus, your momma hasn’t put out since we started dating. Says she’s waiting for marriage. I think I fuckin’ hate that religious bitch.” He pulls me closer, forcing me to be face to face with him. “He said if I wait till the time is right, I can have you. Well, what better time is there than you looking like this?”

He?

Daren didn’t give me time to think. He threw the belt over my head and looped it around my throat like a collar and leash, each pull tightening around my neck, choking me.

I claw at the leather, trying to pull free—but each pull only leeches the air from me more. The thread in the leather digs into my skin, pricking my neck, but it’s Daren’s free hand that scares me more than anything.

Calluses and grime touch my thigh, gripping and groping at the soft flesh. His thumb rubs over the lace of my panties, and I buck to get him off of me.

“Such a feisty little thing, never woulda pegged that of you.” He pulls the belt closer, and a choked gag escapes my lips. “God, I wanna see those lips around my dick. Sometimes, when I hear you in the shower, I fantasize about walking in on you, forcing you to suck me off till I finish all over these pretty titties.” He cups my breast, squeezing hard. “Fuck, these are nicer than I thought. Lemme get a good feel.”

I smash my palm into Daren’s face, but he grips my wrist tight and pulls, using the hand wrapped around the belt to pull it tight. Somehow, he positions me on his lap, my back pressed against his chest. His hard length grinds against my ass.

“Let go of me!” I hiss.

“Why? Your mom left us, practically giving me permission to do whatever I’d like to my little whore.” He gropes and fondles my chest, yanking the pink lace aside to reveal my breast to him, and pinching my nipple between two dirty fingers. I whimper, trying to push his hand away, but Daren pulls the belt again.

“Lemme hear you moan again, I liked the sound of that.” He roughly squeezes me, his nail digging into the small peak, and I yell out. “That’s a good whore. Do as daddy tells ya.”

He lets go of my breast and it takes everything in me not to let myself slump back against him in relief.

“P—please, stop,” I whisper.

Daren’s hand trails down my stomach, past my belly button, and his fingers glide just under the seam of my panties.

Nuzzling my ear, he breathes against my neck. “Call me daddy, and then maybe I will.” His lips move along my neck, his tongue flicking my skin.

I swallow, disgusted with myself for being in this position. Disgusted at Mother for leaving me here. Disgusted at Daren for making me beg, for making me say things I don’t mean, for touching me, for hurting me.

“Pl—please, Daddy. Stop.”

He bites my neck, licking just after.

“No.”

His hand cups my pussy roughly, his fingers blindly trying to find my slit, trying to find anything, but I don’t stop moving, don’t stop fighting. The belt tightens around my neck, but I push my body back against Daren as hard as I can. I reach back for something—anything. When my hand finds something hard, I grab it. In the same breath, Daren rips my panties from my crotch, his hand grabbing me again, but the moment his fingers slither up my slit, I swing the hard thing in my hands down across his head.

The Virgin Mary statue shatters into a million porcelain pieces as it meets his forehead. Dazed, Daren’s grip loosens on me and the belt. I don’t take a second to think about anything. I jump off his lap, the belt still around my throat, and I bolt to the door.

“You fuckin—” he slurs, but he hasn’t gotten up yet. He’s still clutching his head, a small stream of blood spilling between his fingers. I don’t wait to see if he’s okay. I don’t wait to hear what else he has to say. I’m fucking done being here, being his play thing, being Mother’s punching bag. I’m done being a shell of myself, I’m done hiding behind frumpy clothes and Bibles, pretending nothing matters and nothing hurts.

I’m fucking done .

I throw on the oversized gray hoodie from the coat rack at the door, and with no shoes or any of my belongings, I run from this Hell house and into the rainy, dark autumn night.