𝙱𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝙴𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚎 || ✔

2 (S)

__________

I should've known,
I'd leave alone.
Just goes to show,
That the blood you bleed
Is just the blood you owe.

__________

Present

Trigger Warning! (rape and violence)

He pulls me to my feet, grabbing my hair in a fist. His hand snakes around my waist as he lifts me on his hip, my upper half dangling in the air. I yell in fear, tears streaming down my face as I brace for my punishment. I know it can't be nearly as good as yesterday, because what I did was apparently called breaking a rule, and it resulted in something I wish would kill me.

I really wish that I don't wish that.

Kayden says that he would teach me. Break me into someone whom he will control. Mold me into doing whatever he told me to do because I didn't deserve to be independent. 

Well, fuck him. 

It's not like I won't escape this psychopath. He doesn't deserve to be roaming free. Even though I am in half the clothes I was when I came in, I know that I'll escape him. Possibly break some bones in the process, but I will get out.

Hopefully.

I snap back to reality as I am landed on my feet, facing a chair with cuffs on its legs and arms. "Sit," Kayden says, looking at me fiercely. I back away, shaking my head profusely. I shake the handle of the door frantically, but my hopes die when I realize that it's locked. I hold back my tears as I pressed my body against the cold, wooden door. Kayden approaches me with inextinguishable rage in his eyes, huffing in chagrin. He grabs my arm tightly, possibly leaving bruises on my skin.

"Sierra, sit on that chair, or I'll make you," he says sternly, bending down at my level. His grip tightens impossibly, and tears escape my eyes as I nod. I sit on the chair hesitantly, the cold leather on my bare back and thighs giving me goosebumps.

"Arms on the arms of the chair," he demands, and I obey. I swear I saw a ghost of a smile on his face, but it disappears as soon as I notice. He locks my wrists and ankles in place, the buckles a little too tight for my liking. 

Well, it's not like I preferred being tied up anyway.

I try to slip my hands through them, my efforts in vain. My tangled curls fall in front of my face as I shake my body, yelling in protest of being restrained.

"Let me go, Kayden!" I yell, my eyes red from crying.

He tsks, smirking, "Where's the punishment in that?" he says, clasping his hands together, looking at me like I am his prey, ready to obliterate me.

Obliterate my will and my independence.

He grips my throat, pressing my head against the high back of the chair. As his grip tightens, it gets harder to breathe, and I can hear my own blood pound against my ears as my vision starts to dance with black spots. I gasp, pulling my restricted arms upwards in an attempt to get him off me. Just as I reach the brink of unconsciousness, he pulls his hand away. I cough, gasps for air echoing the otherwise silent room. It's a relatively small room with black walls with a long table with cuffs similar to the chair I was sitting on. And a closet, which seemed to draw me in as I looked for anything to give me a hint of what was inside it.

"Look, love, I didn't want to do this. When we met the day before, I didn't think you would be the one to put up a fight, but you did. So, I can't help this. I'm truly sorry," he says, his smirk contrasting his statement. He pulls a swiss knife out of his pocket and twirled it in his fingers before snapping it open. Long strokes of the knife cut my thighs and arms.