Tapestry of Scars

Pressure Points

Chapter 16:

Pressure Points

Alison woke up at four that morning, hating the fact that her bladder existed. She very carefully pried herself away from Emily's grasp and slid out of bed. She grabbed her silk robe and slipped it on.

She stared at the brunette's silhouette, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim room. She stood there for a few seconds watching her. Emily was sleeping peacefully for the first night in weeks. She'd never seen her look so innocent...so vulnerable.

She quietly tiptoed into the bathroom. The toilet seat felt cold against her ass. It only accentuated the fact that Emily's hot skin was no longer against hers. She quickly finished so she could get back in bed next to her and bathe in her warmth again.

As she walked out of the bathroom, an arm wrapped around her waist. Alison couldn't help but smile. She hadn't even been gone for two minutes and Emily hadn't been able to live without her.

"You up for round two?" Alison smiled, gripping Emily's hand, slowly moving it down her body.

Something felt wrong, and when she looked down she realized why.

It wasn't Emily's hand.

She jerked away. Another rough hand grabbed her arm and spun her around. And she knew. She'd only seen the grainy photo, but she knew it was him. He slapped his hand over her mouth.

"If you make one sound I'll work that pretty little body of hers right here while you watch and then I'll slaughter the shit out of her. And it won't be fast either. I'll make it nice and slow. Painful, so she feels every second."

Alison took a moment to appreciate the fact that she didn't have any urine left in her body, because she'd be pissing herself otherwise.

Before she could react he dragged her out of the room. He pulled her down the hallway.

Alison felt a mixture of fear and rage. Because this was the psychopath who had hurt her girl. And fuck anyone who laid a finger on Emily. Her fear slowly started to dissipate and her rage started boiling over. She tightened her jaw and raised her hand, forming a fist. She had every intention of slugging the shit out of him, but he grabbed her arm before she could make contact.

He roughly shoved her against the wall and leaned close to her face. She could smell the whiskey on his breath, and fuck, no wonder it made Emily sick to her stomach. It was putrid. He was putrid.

"Wrong move, Barbie." He grabbed both of her wrists and slammed them against the wall, holding her in place.

Alison felt violated and humiliated and angry. She felt insecure and angry and upset. His body was pressing against hers. And she was terrified that their clothes weren't going to remain a barrier for very long.

"Here's what's going to happen." He aggressively grabbed her jaw with one hand and pressed his large bulky arm against her throat with his other. He really leaned into the pressure, making it hard for Alison to catch her breath. "You are going to do exactly what I tell you to do or I'll punish you. And I won't hurt you. I'll hurt her. So be a good little girl or I'll make it much worse for her."

So this was what Emily had meant when she'd told her it was worse to watch her brother, someone she loved, go through pain than to go through it herself. The thought of this disgusting piece of slime touching Emily made her feel like puking.

"If you so much as lay a finger on her I'll..."

He moved his hand quickly, striking like a snake. His fist made contact with the side of her face, clipping her jaw.