Shattered

Chapter 6

I was weak. I didn't have the strength to escape a maniac.

I was alone. I always had someone with me all my life, my mom, Avery, Quinn, dad. I wasn't used to the feeling of loneliness.

I was scared. The events that took place in the last forty-eight hours frightened me beyond words.

I was lost. I had nowhere to turn. Everywhere I looked was a white wall or a clear window. I knew nothing about my new environment.

I was hateful. The conniving son of a bitch was the first person I ever truly hated, and I didn't suppress the emotion.

I was desperate. Desperate for help, for another soul to rescue me from this wretched place.

I was trapped. Trapped in this room alone. I was his prisoner. His hostage. His unwilling lover. His everything.

All seven of those words could easily describe the rest of my life. But I was naive during this time. If I only knew how much worse everything would become...

...

My knees were shiny from the crystal like tears that fell from my icy eyes, my arms sore from gripping my legs so tightly. The sides of my calves were covered with red finger marks, some with nail punctures.

Biting at my lips, I didn't care about the blood dripping down to my chin. Slowly rocking back and forth, I sobbed through the movement. My stomach rumbled deeply, reminding me that I hadn't eaten in a whole day. It didn't help my mood.

Shaking violently, my head snapped up at the sound of a door closing in the distance. Halting my rocking, I tightened my grip on my legs in fear. My teeth began chewing on my lip feverishly, much harsher than before. The closer his footsteps got, the more rough I was with my body. My breathing ragged, I hid behind my ginger hair.

A shadow appeared behind the door, twisting the knob. As soon as the door moved an inch, I scrambled to the corner of the room, beside the bed. "Jess?" He called out as he set something on the coffee table. I didn't answer.

His large frame walked around the bed, stopping in front of me. Shifting my gaze to my knees, I felt my lungs clench.

"Jess, its okay. I won't hurt you, I promise." I stiffened as he reached out and wiped the blood from my lip and chin. "You said that before and still hurt me." Mumbling softly, I still refused to look at him.

He sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, Jess. I can only promise that I won't hurt you unless you disobey me, which you did." His fingers combed through my hair as I stayed quiet.
"Please don't be afraid of me, baby." He kissed the top of my head and took my hand in his. That would be the first time of many that he'd call me his 'baby', a nickname I'd forever despise.

"Come on, let's clean you up." Gently pulling me onto my feet, he allowed me to lean on him for support. My abdomen was aching, and even walking stung. He guided me into the bathroom, setting me down on the wooden bench beside the door. Clenching my teeth in pain, I clutched my stomach.

Chandler turned on the shower, pacing back to me afterwards. "You can go in whenever you're ready. I'm going to get you some clothes." He pulled the door closed behind him, leaving me alone.

Slowly standing up, I lifted the white shirt away from my body. A single glance at my reflection had me almost screaming at the color of my front side. Purple and black swirled along several areas, and I had another bruise forming on my cheek.

Sighing heavily, I slipped off my panties and entered the shower. The water was warm, releasing some tension off of me. Soaking my tangled hair, I let the water roll away gracefully don my back. The only soap was a men's body wash, but I was in such desperate need of cleansing that I used it.

The smell was actually quite nice, but it made me smell exactly like Chandler. It was the same story with my hair.

Rinsing away all the soapy suds, I embraced the water and peace for a few extra minutes. "Jess?" My name was called out, followed by a light knock. "I'm coming in to put your clothes on the bench." He didn't ask, just stated.

Turning myself away from the door, I left my rear exposed. It was better than my breasts. I angled myself so that I could see him, but all he saw was my butt.
Chandler pushed open the door, carrying neatly folded clothing. He placed the garments on the bench, collecting my underwear and his shirt.

I cleared my throat before he could leave. "Um." Fumbling, I tried to collect my words. He looked up at me, but as I said before, all he saw was my butt and face. "I sort of need my panties." Stating with pink cheeks, I felt so much embarrassment.

"There's clean ones here, don't worry." He tapped the folded pile and smiled slightly, leaving the bathroom afterwards. Chandler didn't look at me until I started talking, but not once did his gaze fall to my butt, so I guess that was good.

Wrapping a fluffy white towel around me, my shivering ceased. The shower was amazing and definitely made me feel better.

Unfolding the clothes, I found a light gray chemise slip with white ruffles over the v-neck, along with pale lace underwear. There was no bra, which made me uncomfortable. The slip alone focused on my breasts, plus my nipples were visible through the fabric.

Self-consciously leaving the steamy bathroom after a minute of pep talking, I crossed my arms over my chest to hide my cleavage. Chandler was on his phone, sitting lazily on one of the chairs

"Is there a hairbrush I can use?" I asked, praying he wouldn't notice my boobs spilling out. Considering my height and body size, plus genetics, I had the largest breasts in my family. They were a D, and clothes like this didn't help.

He put away his phone and stood, widening his eyes at my chest. "What was Stella thinking?" He mumbled, looking at the ground.

"Yes, I have a hairbrush for you, but first let's fix this." He took my hand and led me to the closet. Dozens of bags scattered the floor of the right side, each filled with women's clothing.

Chandler began searching through them, dissatisfied groans releasing every few minutes. Eventually, he handed me a black bra, opening one of his drawers afterwards. Chandler took a dark green sweater, placing it in my hands as he walked towards the door.

"I had Stella, my housekeeper, go out and get you clothes, but none of the pajamas are very covering." He explained. "I'll have her get more tomorrow." He said to himself, walking out.

Quickly changing, I found much more comfort in this outfit. The sweater was long enough to reach just above my knees and the material was soft and provided warmth.
Once back in the bedroom, I sat on the other chair, Chandler in front of me. "Thank you for these clothes. They're much more comfortable." I smiled softly, looking down at my lap.

Just play the game and you won't get hurt.

"Anything for you." He responded while handing me a black hairbrush. Thanking him again, I relished the feeling of knot-free hair.

The rest of the night was surprisingly peaceful. Chandler wrapped my arm in gauze again, protecting the wound from infection. It still hurt like shit, but I could tolerate it. He gave me food, and then I fell asleep surprisingly quickly, having been overwhelmed by today's events.

I wasn't nearly close to okay, but I knew I had to sleep if I wanted energy to deal with all this shit tomorrow.