Angelo Giovanni had several obsessions, one of which was a petite, dark-haired nymph of a woman named Ariel LaRusso. A Ballerina with a talent for acrobatics. He couldn't get enough of her; she was the most addictive drug his tongue had ever tasted...
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As soon as I wake up I realize the depth of my mistake. The proof of last night's coitus still lingered in the air and on the bed. My skin was flushed with bright marks from his teeth and the obvious pain between my legs was enough of a reminder of what a weakling I turned out to be.
After being discharged from the hospital a week later after the incident, I made a promise to myself that I would never ever let that monster of a man touch me again. I wouldn't give him the chance to walk all over me and destroy me beyond repair.
Yet, last night, overcome by emotions and agony, I just did that. I just let him use me again.
I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to cry for Angelo or because of him for that matter. I wanted nothing to do with that man. My mind was strictly against it but in the depth of my heart, the part where there still was a little flicker of hope, of belief chanted otherwise.
That stupid little girl inside me who craved love and acceptance wanted him. So desperately. Even if it meant losing everything and everyone. But most often the rational part won. And nights like the previous one was where that stupid little girl won and let a man like Angelo have the benefit of the doubt.
Despite it being fairly late in the day, the drapes to my bedroom were closed blocking out most of the sunlight. For which I was thankful. I don't think my heavy head can handle that damned light. And as I didn't have a class to teach today, I found myself having the luxury of sleeping in. Turning on my other side, I found the bed covers rumpled and the pillow sporting a dent.
He stayed over. I thought, placing a hand on the pillow beside mine. He must have stayed over because I remember passing out before Angelo was done. I don't know if it was the orgasm or the lack of food in myself mixed with anger and pain that put me out like a bulb.
Whatever it was, it was good. Because I slept like a child well fed and nursed.
Not dwelling on the thought, I closed my eyes again hoping to get some silent time without a shut eye. But I wasn't so lucky because the bedroom door opened and the familiar heavy presence of Angelo Giovanni returned.
I kept my eyes closed hoping that he would take a hint of me sleeping and leave me alone. And I wouldn't have to raise my voice again. I wasn't a violent person but after the craze I showcased last night, I don't know what or who I was anymore. Everything that I was seemed to have lost somewhere.
"Good morning, sweetie." It was the softest of whispers as he took a seat beside me on the bed. With featherlight touch he moved the stray hair away from my face. "So beautiful."
I wonder if he knew I was awake.
Angelo Giovanni was pretty observant and calculating. So maybe he knew I was awake and he was back to his scheming, manipulative ways. "I brought tea, tadpole. No sugar. Ginger."
Damnit. I pried my eyes open to stare at him. He was dressed in a pair of silk pajama pants. Where did he get them from, I have no clue because I surely don't wear bigfoot size bottoms. Except for that gray pair of pants he was bare from waist up. His cross necklace hung from his neck and he sported a mused up hairstyle with half a smile.
