"I want to defile you, destroy you, corrupt you in the most sinfully beautiful way. Break you until you're completely mine."
"And then?"
"Then I'll piece you back together, of course." He took another step in her direction, closing the distance be...
A/N: This chapter includes mentions of sexual abuse, proceed with caution.
Two days later.
Guinevere locked the front door of her apartment mere minutes after Nathan left, after promising him that she'd stay in his house and wait for him to return.
Liar.
Lying to him left an acidic taste in her mouth that managed to dissolve the intoxicating taste of his kiss.
"Fuck!" She exclaimed, her back colliding with the door as she raised a palm over her eyes and tugged her black hair hard enough to make her skull burn. Pain is good, the voice in her head reminded her, it meansyou're awake,it means you don't need to think about the consequences. Not just yet.
After a couple of sighs and deep, even breaths she pushed her body away from the door, her fingers testing the lock.
Gwen shook her head slightly, soundlessly mocking her own paranoia before walking over to the kitchen and grabbing one of the sharpest knives she could find. She took it in her hand, tracing a finger over the sharp edge and pressing it against it until the first drop of blood appeared.
The crimson liquid made her hum in approval, the sting that followed it almost nonexistent. Nevertheless, she took the finger in her mouth, licking the wound softly, the way an injured animal would. Pain is good, the voice told her again. With those words echoing in her head she went to her bedroom and, still affected by the sleeping pills she'd taken the night before to calm her nightmares, lied down on the bed, hiding the knife under the pillow.
Some time after that, she fell asleep, unable to resist Morpheus' magnetism.
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"Wake up, baby."
A soft breath brushed her cheek, stealing her senses' lethargy.
Sleep was one of the few comforts she had left. Due to that, her brain kept her in that state for as long as possible, ignoring all external factors that threatened it. Of course, the pills also played their part.
Unfortunately, her will wasn't powerful enough to mute the sounds entering her ears or the hands caressing her body.
So there she lied restless in Purgatory, helpless while something was pulling her back to Hell.
At first, she noticed small things like the fact that there was no light attacking her eyes. One of her socks were gone. Her sweater had, also, ridden up while she slept. She knew because she felt the cold penetrate her skin, taking the form of a thousand needles and piercing her relentlessly. Furthermore, the excess fabric disturbed her.
Fingers ran across her exposed spine but in her haze she could not say how many they were. For some reason, she didn't dare open her eyes. Could she? Perhaps not. There was something in that touch that prevented her body from moving closer. Her instinct prevented her from moving altogether.
