❛ i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings ❜
in which a famous actress finds herself seeking
comfort in a girl she met through social media.
gracie abrams x fem!oc
ONGOING
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chapter nine narrative
tw: abuse, slightly detailed rape
NARRATIVE⎯⎯⎯
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"Hey, Tyler," I greet finally, my own voice softer than I’d like. It shames me that he still has this effect on me. I’d love nothing more than to tell him to go fuck himself and let him know he doesn’t scare me. But my soul is also very attached to its vessel.
I briskly walk past him and into the house that he kept me hostage in for years, spotting Judice sitting on a table, a sick smirk on her face. I tense up when I hear the door slam shut behind me. I slowly turn around, terrified to look at his face.
He slowly walks over to me, his polished heels clicking on the filthy floor. The contrast between the two almost doesn’t compute in my brain. The image looks tremendously off. Such nice shoes shouldn’t be walking on a floor so disgusting.
I’m focusing on his shoes, so I don’t have to think about why he’s walking towards me. I’m thinking about how there’s guck caked in the cracks of the tiles, instead of how he’s stopped in front of me and waiting for me to lift my eyes.
I’m thinking about how I’m about to lose my relationship tonight, and maybe even my life.
He lifts his hands towards me and it takes everything in me not to flinch away. Slowly, his finger lifts my chin, causing shivers to run down my spine. Judice shifts in my peripheral, nervous. That makes me nervous.
My chin rises. Our eyes meet. Anger’s infused in his eyes. My breath escapes me.
"You’re my property," he says softly.
My mouth dries, and I fight to swallow. "You were mine for seven years and you still are mine, baby girl." Despite my best efforts, my lip trembles. God, does it tremble.
