Page 55 of Depravity

“I’ve fucked her enough times. She should be pregnant by now, and she’s not.” I’m not opposed to using other means, to tipping the scales to ensure I get what I want. Hell, if I have to construct some sort of machine to keep her continuously filled with my semen, then I’ll do that. I’ll get the bitch pregnant one way or another.

“You mean a fertility shot.” He says, like he’s just solved a puzzle.

“Yes.”

He glances back, staring one second far too fucking long at my wife. “She’s battered, bruised, and emaciated.” He states like I’m not more than aware of that fact. “She’s in no fit state to conceive, let alone carry a child.”

My anger flares. Who the fuck does he think he is to talk to me like that?

“Give her the shot.” I snarl, grabbing his collar, shoving him enough to make my point. Like I give a fuck what his opinion is on the matter.

He has the audacity to sigh, but he pulls over his bag, rummaging through like he’s Mary Fucking Poppins.What else does he have in there?

He pulls out a vial and a syringe.

If Brynn is aware of what’s going on, I’m not sure. She certainly doesn’t show any hint that she’s even conscious. She’s still just lying there, like a broken toy waiting to be fixed.

He leans over, jabbing the thing into her skin, right where her arse meets her thigh. There’s a handprint there, a mark I know I left.

She hisses and her hands clench, but she doesn’t try to fight.

And then he’s pulling it out, putting it away, and moving to stand in front of me.

“Mr Blake,” He says quietly. “You cannot do that again; you cannot beat her like that again. If she does get pregnant, then there is a high chance you will cause a miscarriage.”

I wave my hand, dismissing his words, dismissing him. Like hell I’ll be told what I will and won’t do in my own home.

As the door closes, I go and sit on the bed. Maybe it’s my imagination but she looks better, calmer.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” I murmur, stroking her hair. “I want you to let me love you. I want you to let me treat you right.”

She sniffs and I tuck my hand under her chin to make her look at me.

“I love you, Brynn. I love you. And if you’d only stop fighting me, then you’d realise that I will do anything for you. I will give everything for you. I will make you happy.”

“I want my freedom.” She says in a clear, unbroken whisper.

God, it takes everything I have not to slam my fist into her face, to shatter those pretty eyes staring up at me.

My hand curls into her hair, I yank hard enough to ensure she realises I’m not fucking around.

“You are my wife.” I state. “My fucking wife.”

Why is that so hard to understand?

Why is that so hard to realise?

He gave me two days. Two fucking days.

I suppose I should be grateful for that.

My body is still broken. Not permanently, mind you. But the way my flesh has turned black is enough to make me physically sick.

I can’t walk straight, I can’t even stand without my legs giving way. Every breath I take feels like a knife in my chest.

But that doesn’t stop my dear husband.

No, he’s more than happy to continue whatever this is, despite the warning from the doctor.

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