Held [Completed]

Twenty Nine.

Twenty Nine.

One year later.

Sweat pours from my body the faster he rams himself into me. I feel like I'm in a sauna. A hot, stifling, merciless bath of flames. My body is on fire and the worst part is that it won't be extinguished anytime soon.

Pain.

That word was the realest word I've come to know. Pain is something natural. Something that is inevitable. Just like death. Everyone experiences  pain; everyone has scars, things that taint them. And everyone has to die. It's a part of our messed up lives.

Pain is the one emotion that familiarizes itself with everyone. It doesn't discriminate. It just latches onto you, like a leech sucking the blood out of you. Sucking the life out of you. Too much pain leads to death and death frees you. That's all I wanted. All I needed, because death was my freedom. My only escape. That was until he-

An insuperable sensation overcomes me, making my body move purposefully and my thoughts sweep away like dust in a breeze. I feel myself slowly succumbing to the sensual movements he is performing on my bruised bottom. His aggressive hands claim me lustfully while I bite my lip to restrain myself.

He smirks daringly at me, knowing exactly what he is doing.

"Love..."

"You..."

"Feel..."

"Amazing..."

He whispers things in my ear, things as foul as he is. But I ignore him.

Instead of listening to his pointless lies, I focus my attention on the ceiling fan. It spins as briskly as my mind. My body is out of sync but my mind is still here. I'm able to feel every foul touch, and hear every animalistic sound he makes. From the creaky bed rocking against the wall to the pleasured grunts attacking my ears. Every bit of this is always leaves a horrible remnant. My tears are the only things that can escape.

My toes curl while my arms tighten around his neck. He's pushing to the limit now and I'm beginning to think it's done on purpose. My walls have already expanded and the more he pushes the harder it is for me to breathe. I find myself slowly slipping away. Slowly losing consciousness. Waiting to die.

That is until my throat betrays me. My eyes widen while I release a strained cry. Tears visible on my cheeks when he pulls my hair harder.

"Wake the fuck up and stop crying."

Swallowing my anxiety and fear as best I can, I nod quickly. Last time I passed out, he waited until I woke up to tell me that every hour I was out would be the number of days without going outside. I was out for two hours.

My body jerks while I blink rapidly, afraid that I might have passed out. I actually look forward to my thirty minutes outside each day. Even if Rich is there with me.

With my bare back pressed against the headboard in an upright position, I realize he moved us. His large hands coast my bottom all the way to my exposed chest. I've grown now and I embrace my curves. Let's just say that I'm not a scrawny sixteen year old anymore.

He kisses my neck ever so gently, allowing me to tilt my head back. I have to act like I enjoy this.

He continues rubbing and sucking my skin until  stopping abruptly. It's as if he just had an epiphany.

With a cunning smirk and glistening, lucid chestnut eyes he orders me to spread further. I stay stock-still, not wanting to. I can't because I've gone as far as I can go. My sore legs are around his waist while he continues holding them genitively.