Page 133 of The Road Less Traveled By

Chapter forty-one

— PTOLEMAEA BY ETHEL CAIN

I don’t want tobe here.

I’m not safe.

He’s hurting me.

He’s going to kill me.

Please, make it stop. Make it fucking stop.

I chant it over and over again in my head. Screaming is no use to me. Now, I’m praying to anyone who can hear me—if anyone or anything is even out there.

Ralph is on top of me, stroking himself as he watches me struggle against the handcuffs he has me in. He runs his free hand over my body, and even though my pajamas are still on, I can feel every hard ridge of his hands, just like last time.

Tears are streaming down my face, and they haven't stopped. My head hurts from where he knocked me out, my limbs feel weak from whatever sedative he gave me, and my face hurts from where he slapped me.

My wrists and ankles are burning, screaming at me to stop fighting, stop trying, because it’s no use. The metal is cold against the scrapes on my hands and feet, but I’m not stopping.

Ralph likes my fight, so he’s getting off to this. He’senjoyingthis. He loves watching the tears stream down my face as I fight for my freedom. He tells me it’s because he loves me.

Obviously, he doesn't. He’s just fascinated by me. I’m the next in line of his obsessions, and he’s going to kill me just like he killed his girlfriend.

I’m trying not to throw up as I watch the door behind him for any sign of help, but it never moves.

I’m all alone.

I’m fighting, but it’s no use.

I do it anyway. I’ll fight against him until I’m sick of it.

“My perfect little fuck puppet. Now I can do this properly.”

My lungs start to seize under the duct tape, and I feel like I’m gonna pass out. Maybe I should, just so I can’t feel whatever he’s about to do to me.

Ralph’s warm, clammy touch makes me squirm, and I wish I had access to my legs so I could try and knee him—he’s barely paying attention as he strokes himself.

Ew. Ew. Ew.

I keep squirming, hoping he’ll at least get off of me, before he chastises me.

“That’s it. Fight me, Bree. I know this is what you want. And you’ll take it. God, you look so fuckable bound underneath me.” He’s drowning in his own lust while I’m fighting the nausea crawling up my throat. “Fuck, if it feels this good, it can’t be bad, can it, little lamb?”

I scream through the tape over my mouth, hoping he’ll take it off, but he doesn't, and I keep thrashing, so much so that he loses his balance.

“I won’t let you ruin this again, Bree!” he screams as his hands wrap around my throat, and all my air is cut off. I’m frozen as his hands squeeze so hard that it feels like my eyes are about to pop out of my head.

Stop! Please, stop.

“You need to be punished. And if I kill you, then at least I can have my way with you!” His hands are still cutting off my airway, and my lungs are seizing underneath the duct tape, my hands and feet thrashing as I try to loosen his hold, but he’s too strong for me.

This is it,I think to myself. At least I fought this time. At least I tried, right? That’s all I’m able to do, especially when someone else is making all the decisions.

Tears leak out of my eyes, burning as they slide down my face.

I love you, Liv. You’re the best big sister I could’ve had.

---