Alexandra Rose

Chapter 20

The italics are flashbacks.

Alexandra's POV

My body jerked up as my breaths came out short and heavy. Sweat coated my forehead and my body shook with fear, immense fear.

"Take off your damn shirt you bitch!" He yelled, pushing me to the bed.

My thoughts drifted off to that day, each thought made me want to throw up.

No not this.

My clammy hands pulled at my hair, trying to desperately make the aching pain go away.

"Stop! Don't touch me." I whispered weakly, crawling back on the bed until my bruised back touched the headboard of the bed.

Sweat dripped down my face from the memory and my heart felt as if it was going to burst out of my chest.

"Get out of my head!" I cried to myself, my voice coming out helpless as my knuckles unknowingly banged my head.

"Get out. Get out. Get the hell out of my head!" I choked out a sob and screwed my eyes shut as his words repeated in my head.

I don't know why this is happening, but I feel helpless. I feel scared and I feel dirty.

"Just remember. You're doing this to yourself. This is no one but your fault."

"It's not my fault. It's his." Every breath I took, began to shallow into sharp and desperate gasps for air as my lungs threatened to collapse.

The only sound I could hear in my dark, empty room, was heavy gasps and painful whimpers that belonged to me.

"Let go of me!" He ripped apart my shirt, exposing my bruised stomach and covered chest as he stared at me with lust filled eyes.

My hands went to my mouth, to stop myself from screaming at the agonising memory, "Why won't it stop?" My voice came out muffled as my hands became wet from my own tears.

It's getting too much. I can't do this.

He straddled me and held both my hands down, leaving wet sloppy kisses on my chest, "Stop!" I yelled, struggling against his tight grip on me.

I rocked my body back and forth with my forehead resting against my arms, quiet cries escaped my lips as I relived the memory.

He slapped me, making my face jerk to the right as my cheek burned, "Shut the fuck up!" He hissed, face contorting into one of anger. It was petrifying.

I felt as if someone was strangling me, as if someone's hands were on my neck and blocking the amount of air that reached my lungs.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I repeatedly said, feeling as if I owed the apology to him, "P-Please go a-away."  I whispered brokenly.

His hands went all over my body, he touched me in places I didn't want anyone to touch. He ignored my cries for him to stop.

He didn't stop, he didn't listen. He kept touching me.

He kept touching me in places I would only allow someone I trusted and loved. He almost took away what I saved for someone I love. He made me hate being touched. He broke me.

Tears uncontrollably fell down my warm, red cheeks as my teeth bit down on the exposed skin of my wrist, unknowingly drawing out blood.

He yanked at my hair when I fought for myself, he delivered a rough punch to my face when I screamed at the top of my lungs. He threw me against the wall because I saved myself.