Page 26 of Clover

How dare that motherfucker think he can ruin my sobriety by injecting me with who knows what the fuck. It’s still lingering in my system now. Though its effects are waning. That may be due to the fact that the adrenalin that shot through me mixing with the rage and Harley sent me into a murderous frenzy. Since there was no Braxton here to kill, I decided to kill his condo instead.

I do meankill. Demolish and destroy. There’s no pansy-ass tantrum-throwing pillows here. Oh no. I shred the bedding into scraps, tearing it into ribbons. If I had a knife, I would gut the mattress and couch too. But there’s nothing in this fucking cage sharp enough to do the damage I want. Every frame hanging on the walls now resides on the floor. Glass shattered, and whatever art or photo was inside ripped to confetti. Every drawer in the kitchen has been removed and smashed on the floor or countertop. Every plate and bowl I’ve chucked at the wall like an ultimate frisbee pro. That was particularly satisfying since I got to throw things and watch them explode in a burst of porcelain against the walls. Taking a few chunks out of the drywall in the process.

I leave his closet and clothing for last. It’s a little harder to tear through his suits. The material is strong and well made. Eventually, I get seams to rip and fabric to tear. There’re too many clothes in here for me to destroy them all, so I focus on the expensive-looking items. Then I turn my attention to the fancy dresses on the opposite wall. He will never again make another woman wear these.

After he cut up my silk pajama shorts, I put my jeans back on. Realizing wearing the thin material was a bad idea. I need more protection from him, and denim is a lot harder to cut than silk. Since he had also cut up my Colt shirt, I had no choice but to remain wearing the silk night blouse. As an extra measure, I’ve tucked it into my jeans. I realize that tucking in a shirt doesn’t actually create an impenetrable barrier, but it makes me feel better.

When I squat down to continue trashing the sluty dresses, the cut in my ass screams at me. There wasn’t anything more in the bathroom than regular generic Band-Aids. I used three across the cut to cover it. I have to lift a little more onto my knees to relieve the strain on the cut. With all the blood rushing through my ears, I don’t hear the door beep and swish. Instead, I hear Braxton’s voice calling out from the main space.

“Honey, I’m home…and I see you’ve redecorated.” He sounds amused. Fucking amused at the waste I’ve laid to his property. I’m going to wipe that smirk I know he’s sporting off his lying mouth.

Bolting up, I sprint through the closet and out to see him standing by the couch, hands on his hip as he surveys my handy work.That’s right fucker. I fucked your shit up. What are you gonna do about it now?

“You know you should really ask first before rearranging things.” He says, all calm and flat. He’s not going to show how mad he really is. Keeping it locked up and stored away for later.

“Fuck you! You pathetic sack of shit!” He’s not wielding any weapons that I can see. The drugs, adrenaline, and rage make me do something that probably isn’t the smartest choice in my current position. I run at him, screaming like a madwoman on a rage high. I don’t care if I’m half his size and barefoot running through a minefield of broken glass and plates. There’s no sense or reason in my action. Just pure reaction.

He’s momentarily caught off guard at my advance, which allows me the extra few seconds to leap on him and wrap my hands around his thick neck. Thick to me and my tiny hands anyways. I can’t grab all the way around, so I dig my thumbs into the center of his throat, hoping that’ll cut off his air supply. It does for about three seconds before he hooks his hands under my armpits and pushes me away from him. I try to hold on, but my grip was superficial, and my hands slip from around his neck.

Braxton is no longer calm and emotionless. He’s fuming, breathing heavily and his eyebrows are so tight in the center of his face they’re practically touching.

“You fucking bitch!” He roars as he throws me off him and to the littered floor. I land on a few broken pieces of something sharp, and they leave tiny cuts on my arms and feet. Luckily, they’re not large enough to break through my denim jeans. Saving my legs from too much damage.

“You’re so pathetic.” I spit out amongst strained chuckles. “Can’t even get pussy without abducting a woman and tying her down. What’s the problem, Braxton? Unable to satisfy a woman without drugs and death threats?” I really shouldn’t taunt him, but that broken filter between my brain and mouth and the high I’m riding fills me with false courage that I don’t care what I’m saying.

“What the fuck did you say? I get plenty of pussy. If I remember correctly, you and your pussy were pretty damn interested in me when we first met.” His whole body is throbbing with anger as he looms over me. I can see his hands curling into fists. If he decided to use those fists against me, he would surely break multiple bones. Right now, I don’t give a flying fuck. All I want to do is piss him off and scratch out his eyes. I manage to hobble to my feet but stay crouched low, just in case I need to dodge a hit. Then I keep talking.

“Momentary lapse in sanity. No woman in her right mind would want you.”

“You better watch your dirty mouth, you little cunt, or I’m going to have to break your jaw so you can’t talk.”

“Ooooh, such a big man, threatening to hurt a woman half his size.” I hold my hands out and shake them mockingly like I’m scared. Oddly enough, I’m not even a little scared of him at this moment, although I probably should be. I’m enjoying pissing him off too much to think of the repercussions of my words.

“If you had just come willingly, I wouldn’t have to threaten you.” He growls out, taking a menacing step towards me. I step back just as quickly.

“Like I said, no woman would come willingly with you, and I would never choose you over Nix. He’s ten times the man you are. Doesn’t need to drug women to get them to sleep with him either.”

“I don’t need you to come willingly anymore. I’ll have you whenever and however I want you. You’ll wish I only fuck you in the ass because what I have planned for you will make that feel like a goddamn day at the beach, sweet thing.” He threatens.

He’s restarted our little scuffle and is coming at me again. As I run and duck to avoid him, I grab pieces of whatever is on the floor and chuck them at him. A few times, they hit him and are heavy enough to make an impact. A few are sharp pieces of broken glass that knick his forearms as he lifts them to block his face. Slowing him as he advances on me. I don’t stop cursing at him and calling him obscenities. My heart is pounding, and the extreme need to escape floods my body, but I don’t regret my actions or fear his. If he wants me, he’ll have to fight me to submission. No more quiet acceptance. I’m going to make this as difficult for him as possible. So much to the point, it might not even be enjoyable to him anymore. Serves the bastard right.

On one sharp turn around the couch, my foot slips on a piece of torn sheet, and I lose my balance just long enough that he’s able to catch up with me. Grabbing me by the arms and twisting in a way so fierce it feels like he’s going to rip them out of the sockets. In seconds he’s got me pinned against the walls of windows, hands above my head, and his thigh between my legs, using his hips to hold me in place.

“I’ve got you now, my little pussy cat. You can try to run all you like, but I willalwayscatch you.You’re mine.” His hands tighten around my wrists, digging his fingers into the tender flesh to the point I think they’ll bruise. I smother a whimper.

“I’ll never be yours.” My words are quiet but strong. No matter what he does to my body, my heart will never be his. It will always belong to Nix.

Nix. I really freaking hope he finds me soon. If I keep pissing off Braxton, he may do some real damage. Until then, I’m going to fight him tooth and nail.

“You say that now, but I will break you. Eventually, they all break.” He’s running his nose along my neck, and I crane away from his touch. I have to be patient and wait for him to loosen his hold before I can make a move. His grip is too tight, and he’s pressed too close to my body. I can only stand still and tolerate his touch. Allowing him to suck on the flesh of my shoulder, next to the stupid ass collar he put on me.

He shifts his hold of my wrists from two hands to one. His free hand starting to aggressively roam my chest. He’s panting and growling at me. The anger from our fight still pumping through his veins, feeding into his sadistic lust. It disgusts me that he’s getting hard and turned on from my disgust and hatred of him. It’s one thing to get turned on while role-playing dom and sub, but to actually get a boner from real hate and fear is disgusting.

During his angry groping, he shifts his hips back off mine so he can slip his hand between us, cupping my pussy and then sliding back up to my breasts. It gives me just enough space to strike him. Since our legs are in between one another’s, my knee is perfectly positioned to clock him right in his precious balls. With as much force as I’m able to muster, I pull my knee as high as it’ll go. Slamming into his groin with a strength I didn’t know I possessed. I guess what they say about people becoming stronger in times of distress is true.

My knee digs so hard into his sack he releases me and stubbles back, sucking in a sharp breath and gently cupping his junk. Let’s see if he gets a hardon now.

“Motherfucker!” he roars out between gasps, coughs, and groans of utter agony. His inability to stand straight and the wincing after every cough makes me smile.

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