Page 47 of Depravity

I’ve wanted to die for so long and yet now I’m looking it in the eye, it feels so very different.

No, I don’t want to die. Not really. I want to live in a world where I am free. Where I can be me, where I’m not subjugated and forced to bend to the ever-changing whims of a monster.

A sob escapes my bleeding lips. I try to silence it, but another one follows and then another, and I realise I have no control over myself now.

Has he broken me? Am I that easily cowed?

I shake my head, clenching my fists, groaning at the pain that shoots up my limbs.

What did I do? What awful transgressions did I commit to end up here, to end up in this life, with this horrific future before me? What sort of God allows this shit to happen? Allows the world to be like this.

I don’t know how long I’ve been laying here. Immobile. Useless.

I slip in and out of consciousness, dreaming of things I can’t have. When I open my eyes, only one seems to respond. My right eye remains shut, like it wants to jump ship and abandon me.

When I hear footsteps, I freeze. Fear takes over. My breath turns into a rattle and my heart slams into my chest like a drumbeat of war, but I can’t fight. I’m in no position to fight. No position to mount any form of defence.

The door opens.

My dear husband stands on the threshold, staring in. I can’t meet his gaze, so I do the only thing open to me. I lay there, weak and pathetic, embodying everything he thinks I am.

He doesn’t say a word as he walks towards me, doesn’t even react as he stares down at me.

What does he see? Is he proud? Is this some victory lap for him? Has he come to admire his fine handiwork?

“Get up.” He says, as if I’m merely dozing dreamily in bed.

I try to move, try to obey and my arms give way, my body crumples. I collapse back into the bloodied rug.

He tuts as though I’m being deliberately difficult and then he grabs me by my arm, yanking me up as I scream. White hot pain shoots through my body. I try to muster what little strength I have left to fight, but I’m too far gone.

He drags me to the bed and drops my useless body onto it. For one awful moment, I think he’s going to fuck me again.

But instead, he stares down at me like he has no idea how I’m so hurt.

“You did this, Brynn.” He says. “You caused this.”

I try to reply, to argue, but my voice catches in my throat. I guess it doesn’t matter anyway, nothing I say will help me. Nothing I say can save me.

He reaches down, unclasping the necklace, his mother’s necklace, muttering that I don’t deserve it and then he tucks into his pocket.

“It’s your choice.” He says. “You can choose to accept this, to stop being a whiny little bitch, be my wife and build a life together. Or you can choose to fight me, to defy me, and spend the rest of your life like this; locked away, miserable and alone.”

That’s not a choice.

I scream those words, but not a sound leaves my lips.

He turns away, picking up the holdall, and he dumps it in the closet.

When he returns, he towers over me once more. “No one else wants you.” He states. “No one else will help you.”

Like anyone was ever going to help me anyway.

His nostrils flare like he can hear the very voices in my head.

“Make your choice wisely, Brynn. I’m running out of patience.”

I wake in a panic.

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