His Woman (18+)

Chapter XVIII

The Friend

Cherish the ones who cherish you, sweetheart.

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Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence and panic attacks.

CHAPTER XVIII

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THAT NIGHT, I couldn't get a wink of sleep because of the thoughts roaring through my head.

You're just a cheap whore, Araceli. Samantha wasn't wrong.

You'll never be anything more than an easy fuck to him; to anybody.

You probably deserved what Vincent did to you, anyway. You killed him for nothing because you deserved it.

A slut and a murderer.

I let out a tiny whimper and squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting the tears pricking my eyelids to successfully spill out. That seemed to be the wrong move though, because as soon as I was engulfed in pitch darkness, that's when the nightmare began.

The sound of someone's loud breathing filled the air and before I could even try to understand what was going on, the image of Vincent appeared before me.

He was tied up to a wooden chair, his blue eyes spilling over with tears as he looked straight into my own. I could see the evident fear on his face and his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled with his breath.

“Please,” I could almost hear him plead with me. I wanted to run over and untie him. I wanted to help him, but the clear liquid slowly started to tip over him and right before my very eyes, Vincent began to melt away.

I let out a scream, completely horrified as his skin literally began to disintegrate into nothing. I heard his loud screaming, his groans of pain and cries for mercy, but I couldn't do anything but watch.

His skin mixed with blood and his face began to droop first before it slowly fell off into small pieces onto the floor. I wanted to close my eyes and look away, but I realised that my eyes were already closed.

I sat up in the bed immediately, my eyelids flying open as I scanned over my surroundings to see if I was still in that same basement.

I wasn't. But the heavy breathing seemed to be following me still.

I placed my hand on my chest, trying to regulate my own breathing as I calmed the oncoming panic attack with the familiar sight of my own room.

The large, white closet at the back wall near the door. The desk table at the corner, the single bed at the opposite corner. The moonlight streaming in through the open curtains and the single picture of my mother and I sitting leisurely on the nightstand beside my bed.

She never loved you. Nobody will ever love you.

You deserved to die. Not Vincent.

“No!” I cried out, choking on my own tears as the darkness felt like it was envoloping me completely, rendering me incapable of breathing.

I reached over to the lamp on the nightstand and switched it on, just to make the familiar room feel less suffocating. But as the room finally filled with light, the vibrant colours of the cream walls becoming visible, I realised that I was waking up from one nightmare only to live another.

The door flew open and I swung my head towards the intruder. My guards were up, but once I realised that it was Anna-Maria, I let the pained whimper out again.