A Flame Divine ♕

VIII. S T R I F E

c a r m e n

G A G E P A R K - C H I C A G O

Beep Beep Beep.

Carmen rolled over in bed, slammed her palm on the alarm clock, and squinted at the time: 5:45 am.

"Ugh," she groaned as she sat up. "Ow," she whimpered, wrapping her arm around her stomach. She lifted the hem of her white tank top and looked at her pale skin, which was covered in black and blue bruises.

She sighed, standing up to go to the bathroom, extremely glad that Frank had already gotten out of bed. He hated seeing her hobble around after a beating. And it wasn't because he felt bad or hated to see her in pain; it was almost like he was appalled at her for having the nerve to walk around looking less than perfect.

Washing her hands, she looked in the mirror and took in her haggard appearance: her red hair was stringy and in desperate need of a trim, her eyes had dark circles under them, making her look vaguely like a raccoon. Not to mention the various bruises popping up on her pale skin.

Why? she thought. Why have I let it go this far?

But she couldn't dwell on those thoughts for too long; Frank had given her a list of things to do today, and if they didn't get done... well, she didn't want to think about that.

She splashed the cool water on her face to help wake her. She didn't have time for a shower because Frank expected breakfast at six o'clock sharp.

Hurrying into the kitchen, she pulled out a frying pan and some eggs, flicking the stove on.

The front door slammed open, and Carmen jumped, the egg in her hand crashing to the floor.

Shit!

Frank had just gotten back in from his morning gym routine. His muscles gleamed with sweat as he flung his bag to the ground, the contents spilling out. Carmen knew she would have to clean that later, but she didn't want Frank to see the egg on the floor, its runny yolk splashed across the linoleum.

She dropped to her knees, attempting to wipe up the egg with a wad of paper towels, but it was too late.

"Goddamnit, Carmen. I thought you were supposed to be cleaning the apartment today, not making an even bigger mess," he hissed, walking past her and bumping her with his legs, causing her to fall hard on her ass.

She closed her eyes and bit her tongue, wanting with everything in her to tell him to shut up. But she wasn't suicidal. "I'm sorry, hon." She wiped up the last bit of egg yolk and ran over it with the Swiffer before placing it back in the corner of the kitchen. "There, it's clean." She flashed him a smile, attempting to appeal to any good humor he may have had left over from his workout. "Now sit down; your breakfast will be ready in five minutes."

"It better fucking be," Frank snarled. "And it better not be too salty like last time."

Carmen wanted to dump the entirety of the salt shaker into his omelette, just to show him, but the bruises across her ribs were a reminder of why she shouldn't.

Finishing up the eggs, she served him a plate with a tall glass of orange juice.

"I hope you like it," she commented, wanting his approval.

Frank took a bite of the omelette and chewed, finally looking up at her with a semi-placid look on his face. "Much better than usual," he grunted as he slurped his orange juice.

Carmen chewed the inside of her cheek and forced a smile. "Good," was all she said. She knew that was the closest she'd get to a compliment from her boyfriend.

"Aren't you going to eat?" he asked as he shoveled another bite into his mouth.

One of her eyebrows dipped. Frank never asked her to eat breakfast with him. "I–uh–I was planning on just getting to work, and I'm not really hungry," she said.

Frank cut off a piece of omelette and held it up to her. "Here, have a bite."

Her stomach churned. He was being as nice as Frank knew how to be. She knew what that meant: he wanted her. The thought made her want to vomit.

But she knew that if she refused, she would suffer for it. So she closed her eyes and opened her mouth as he fed her the eggs she had cooked.

She felt him grip her jaw, forcing her to chew and swallow before shoving her down to her knees. Carmen kept her eyes closed until Frank smacked her cheek, commanding her to open them.

"Now, how about you give me a little after-breakfast treat?" he murmured, pushing her hair back out of her face in an almost tender gesture.

She swallowed and bit her lip. "Alright," she agreed, hating herself as he pulled down his gym shorts and boxers.

"That's right," he breathed, pushing her face down toward his erection.

She went down on his sweaty little prick, hating him and hating herself every second of it. She reached to steady herself with her hand on the table but accidentally knocked the remaining orange juice over, the glass shattering.

"You fucking whore!" Frank yelled, grabbing a fistful of her hair and nearly ripping it out of her head. "Look what you did!"

He shoved her face into the puddle of orange juice, the acid stinging her eye. She wailed, crying apologies, but it was no use. It never was.

"Shut up, you fucking slut! You can't do anything right!" he screamed.

He shoved the chair backward and stormed out of the room, leaving her lying in the dining room floor, completely broken and humiliated.

As she sat up and wiped the orange juice off her face, something inside her snapped.

I have to get out of here. I don't know how and I don't know when. But I have to escape this prison.

Or die trying.