Page 2 of Uprising

“Do you want to know what you said?” He asks.

I don’t reply, don’t respond. It feels like a trap. But then everything with Darius feels like a trap. If living with Paris was like being on eggshells then living with Darius is like being suspended on a glass platform that may shatter at any moment, while a volcano is threatening to erupt beneath your feet the entire time.

“You said his name.” He states.

I don’t play dumb. I don’t act like I don’t know what man he’s referring too. I just blink, waiting for the inevitable consequence of the heinous crime I’ve committed.

He grips my face harder, pinching my cheeks together to the point that it really hurts. “You keep saying his name.”

I gulp, my body trembling before I can stop it. “Darius…”

He doesn’t let me say anything further. I don’t know if it’s his anger or his lust driving him right now but he grabs me, forcing my legs apart, and shoves himself inside me.

I let out a cry screwing my face up at the horrific intrusion.

He’s not gentle. He’s never been gentle. I think he gets off on the power, on the control of it.

He starts pounding into me, grunting as he does and his sweat begins to cover my skin in a way that makes me want to puke.

I used to shut my eyes. I used to pretend that it was Roman, that this was us, but nothing about this is even close to what we had.

There’s no consent, there’s no pleasure, and there’s definitely no love.

All I can do is lie here and take it, take each awful moment, telling myself over and over of the one thing I do have. The one thing that matters in all of this.

Lara. My daughter.

And in a way it does make this more bearable, though it doesn’t make the pain and the brutality of it any less.

I stare up at the chandelier far above us. Letting my focus on it try to override the pain of what my body is enduring. It’s ridiculous to have such a thing in a bedroom. Sometimes I wish the mechanism holding it would snap and the thing would fall down and crush us both.

But that wouldn’t help Lara.

His hands find my throat, he wraps them around tight enough to restrict my airway while ensuring he doesn’t leave any noticeable evidence. Instinctively I grasp his hands, trying to stop this piece of tyranny but he’s too strong to fight.

“I’m sick of hearing his name.” He spits. “Sick of you saying it.”

“I’m sorry.” I gasp quickly. It’s hard to even speak through his grip but I know he hears me.

He tilts his head, then thrusts brutally into me and I let out a cry as I feel myself tear. “Sorry isn’t good enough.”

“I’ll be better.” I state, not that I have any control.

He narrows his eyes, yanking me around, twisting us so that now I’m on top, held up by his hand still wrapped so tightly around my throat.

I stare down at him as he takes in my body. The look on his face, the way he smirks as he enjoys my nakedness makes me sick to my stomach, but there’s nothing I can do. I’m his to do as he wants, and this is what he likes best.

“Prove it then.” He says. “Ride me like the good whore you are.”

I want to refuse. Everything in me makes me want to lash out, to fight back but we both know I can’t. He has all the power here so I’m forced to do it, to act like this is what I want, that he is what I want. I throw my head back, shut my eyes, fighting the tears as my body rips more with each movement.

“I’m the one you love.” He growls. “Me.”

“Yes.” I whisper back. I’ll say anything, agree to anything in this moment and he knows it as well as I.

He shoves his thumb on my clit. I jerk as he does it but I keep on rolling my hips. Keep on the pretence.

“Come for me Rose, come on my cock.” He says pushing so hard it hurts.

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