Page 52 of Uprising

“I’m not pandering.” I snap back before I can stop myself. “She’s my daughter. I’m not going to just leave her to you jackals.”

My mother shakes her head muttering while Darius grasps my face in his hand.

“I can’t wait until you start popping out my children.” He says. “Because then you can focus all that maternal spirit you have into nurturing them.”

My stomach twists. I think that’s part of my fear, that if I do get pregnant what will I do then? I can hardly blame an innocent child for the horrors of what their father is.

“Are you done?” I say.

Darius narrows his eyes, clearly my response isn’t to his liking and I wonder what my mother will do if he decides to make a point by using his fists. Will she simply stand there? Will she willingly watch her child be beaten?

I guess I already know the answer to that because she sold me like a prized cow at market. She doesn’t care what happens to me now. She’s got the result she wants. What happens after is irrelevant.

“Let’s go Rose.” She says.

“Go where?” I ask looking between them.

Darius smiles. “I thought a day out would be good for you. You used to like shopping so I spoke to your mother and we agreed it.”

“I don’t want to go out.” I reply. It’s not exactly true. I’d love to be out, to be free of these damned walls and the prison Darius has constructed around me, but I sure as hell don’t want to go shopping with my mother. And I don’t want to leave Lara here, alone, and without my protection.

My mother huffs looking at Darius. “I see she’s in one of those moods this morning.” She says.

“When is she not?” Darius replies like I’m some spoilt child misbehaving all the time.

My mother walks up to me, yanking my arm. “I would have thought, considering your circumstances that you would make yourself more amenable.”

“What does that mean?” I snarl.

She gives me a look of contempt. “You’re lucky he even tolerates having her around.”

“Excuse me?”

“That bastard child of yours. You should be grateful she’s even here. The least you could do is show Darius how much you appreciate his efforts.”

I screw my face up before I can stop myself. What effort has he made? When I glance back, he’s there watching every move I make still. Yeah I am going to pay for this later. He’s going to make sure of it.

* * *

Only,when I return it’s clear he’s got another thing on his mind.

He pulls me into the bedroom and I know where this is headed, only I can’t decide whether having him fuck me is worse than a beating. They both hurt. They both fracture a bit more of my spirit and yet I think him violating me is worse. Enduring the feel of him, hearing the way he moans as if this is a thing of pleasure, I don’t think I’m ever going to get that horrific sound out of my head.

“Strip.”

I don’t bother fighting it. It’s far easier not to.

I slide my jeans off. Toss my clothes. Making sure my eyes are on the carpet because I don’t want to see the excitement in his. And in a way this is how I protest. The only way I can. I may not say the words, I may not physically try to stop it, but he won’t have me, not in any way that makes him think I want him back at least.

“Get on the bed.”

I do it. Even though my underwear is still on. I lie back, shutting my eyes preparing myself for that disgusting feeling of his skin on mine.

The bed sinks with his weight as he climbs on beside me. He runs his hand over my stomach, across my ribs.

“Your skin is so smooth.” He murmurs.

I grit my teeth. It’s not a compliment. Not from him. I wish my body were made of scales, of spikes, I wish I was covered in warts, that I reflected on the outside how he makes me feel on the inside.

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