[Chapter Eight]

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                 "His hands struck her any hour of the day,
                            like hands that strike a clock,
                                    whether early,
                                        whether late;
                              they strike, they strike."  
                                        ― Anthony Liccione

Chapter Eight

Everything was just so relentless. The wedding plans were driving me insane and you can only stall so much with decisions before my mother will start pushing me or just making them for me. I was putting off finding a dress because I know they take so long to get in and maybe that would put off the wedding date.

It was the day I was dreading most because after that I knew people would be expecting kids and I wasn't ready to face that one. Maybe if I secretly got my tubes tied then it would all be okay. But what if he wanted to adopt? Oh god. My head was spinning with terrible things and I sat down.

There was still blood I had to clean up since according to him I had made a mess, before he stormed off to get drunk and I was hoping he would come home alone tonight. I just prayed it would just be him tonight and not all of them.

My prayers of course weren't answered and this time they left me barley conscious after before they left again because I was no longer of use to them, I didn't go to the hospital this time, I didn't have the strength to tonight.

I pulled myself to the bathroom and scrubbed my skin before fixing my wound and falling asleep.

For the next two months it got worse and worse. They would be so bad that I would pass out in the middle of it all and when I woke up they would be gone and I knew that it didn't stop them that I had passed out because sometimes I would come to and there was a different guy then I remembered being there.

It was so fucking sickening that even if they had raped my unconscious body.

In those times I scrubbed harder at my skin and I would cry at night when they were gone because I didn't know what else to do. I remembered how he used to be and just wondered what had happened to him, what had made him this sick and twisted person.

Why did he give a damn about me, why couldn't he just let me go?

I know why, because I was weak and I was still here.

He needed a girl who wouldn't fight back and who was too afraid to do anything about it and that was me.

I was weak and afraid and I had grown submissive to my parents at a young age and I just let him walk all over me. I knew all of these things but I still couldn't bring myself to fight back.

I knew what happened to me if I fought back.

My parents already told me all the scars looked like they could be self-inflicted and I had absolutely no proof that the as the one doing it to me, and without proof I couldn't get out. They wouldn't let it go especially since the wedding was being planned so publicly.

It would look bad for my parents if I didn't marry him so they would do whatever it took to keep me there.


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