Page 142 of Don't Leave Me

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, looking up at him with wide eyes, only to see him seething with anger in his.

“Too late. Get up. I’m not going to tell you again, Hana,” he ordered, grabbing the end of the belt with his other hand.

I wobbly stood up and Jack quickly took my hand, yanking me towards the bed. There was a fresh roll of rope laid out and I started to struggle.

“Please don’t, Jack. I’m so sorry. I won’t ever talk back to you again,” I cried out, trying to get out of his grip.

“I’ll make sure of it, Hana. Stop squirming,” he ordered, and I stopped.

I thought I was terrified before, but now was the height of it. Jack threw me face first down onto the bed and I immediately began to cry, my sobs loud.

“Shutup, Hana,” he yelled. “I will gag you if I need to.”

I bit my trembling lip to refrain the sound of my cries. Jack quickly took my left arm and reached it behind me, then sat on it, not letting me move. He then grabbed my right arm and began to tie me to the metal bed frame, his knots hard and tight. He let go of my left arm and did the same. He suddenly sat atop my right leg as he put rope around my left foot and looped it around, attaching it to the bottom part of the bed frame; he repeated with my right foot. I was now completely bound, only able to move each limb an inch or so. To my horror, Jack straddled on top of me and began to rip my panties off, then threw them on the floor as he grazed my ass with his hand. I shut my eyes hard, waiting for some type of blow.

“I was hoping you would act out at some point, Hana, so I could do this to you. You should be used to it by now though, I assume,” he muttered, and then – a hard, quick whip welted onto my ass cheek and I knew it was the belt.

The pain didn’t match my broken heart, but it was close – I cried out quickly, unable to control it. There was a pause, and then the blow came again, this time to my other ass cheek. I cried just the same, but didn’t dare say a word. Suddenly, the belt fell to the ground and then I felt Jack take my hair in his hand, pulling it to thrust my head backwards.

“Are you going to misbehave like that again, Hana?” he questioned, his voice almost excited.

“No!” I groaned out quickly.

He let go out of my hair and then I could feel him re-position himself atop of me. I knew that he was taking his boxer briefs off. And I knew he was going to fuck me whether I wanted it or not.

* * *

He kept me tied up like that for almost the entire day. I was left with only my thoughts and a shell of my former self. I didn’t know what to do or how to behave anymore.

Jack left at some point and returned when it was dark out – I never had to pee so badly in my life.

“Jack, may I please go to the bathroom?” I asked sweetly, my head throbbing and my body completely depleted.

He ignored me as he opened the safe and threw something in it, then closed it and began to walk towards me.

He sat down on the bed next to me.

“Do you think you’ll behave if I untie you?” he questioned, talking to me as if I were a child.

“Yes, I promise,” I nodded as best I could.

Jack took his time untying me, and once he was done I bolted to the toilet and relieved myself. I flinched as I sat down, my ass sore. I knew that it would leave a mark for a very long time.

I slowly walked out of the bathroom to find him sitting on the bed, all neatly made and the rope and evidence of my captivity now gone. He slowly looked up at me and his eyes were sad and widened, and I swear I could see tears in his eyes.

“I can’t control my anger sometimes, Hana. I’m sorry I hurt you. That’s not the way I am,” he shook his head at himself, lowering his eyes to the ground.

Is he playing some sort of game?I walked up to him and put my hands to his cheeks, as if I were consoling him. He seemed genuinely remorseful.

“Don’t be sorry,” I said quietly. “I deserved it.”

34

Chapter 34

I don’t know how it happened, but I knew I was starting to go crazy –reallycrazy – because I started to feel closer to Jack after that awful morning. He apologized over and over and cried in my arms that night, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. I knew what was happening: a classic case of Stockholm Syndrome. But I didn’t care about logic. I knew this was my brain’s defense mechanism after enduring such trauma. I had to start caring about him, otherwise I would not be able to live. I couldn’t let myself think about Michael anymore, otherwise I knew that I would try to kill myself. And I didn’t want to die, not just yet.

The next morning, Jack suggested we go to a cat cafe near his loft. I excitedly showered and got dressed, ready to be out in the real world again. We strolled hand in hand the two blocks over, bundled up in our coats and scarves, Jack kissing the top of my hand that he held. In my brain, I pushed back the quick image of the belt in his hands.

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