Page 60 of Deliria

But that’s not the answer, is it?

That’s not the plan.

I don’t even know what the plan is, but I know there is one. That I’m not completely helpless here. That I’m not as much of a sacrificial lamb as they believe me to be.

Christ, it hurts.

It hurts so much.

Vincent groans again, tightening his grip, grunting a slew of expletives about how ‘great my arse feels’. And while I want to shut down, to switch off, to disassociate and disappear into my own mind until this barbarity is over, I can’t. I just can’t.

All I keep thinking is that this is my life. That I’m trapped. That he will walk out this door and any minute after, he or Alex will decide they want another go. And they’ll keep using me. Abusing me. Treating me like I’m nothing more than a fleshlight until I draw my last breath.

He suddenly jerks, slamming into me one final time before I can feel his dick pumping his disgusting DNA into me. Then after he’s done, he just lays there on top of me, stealing the very breath from my lungs.

When he gets up, he kicks my legs out and I fall from the bench, crumbling onto the floor, where I lay, half broken, with both my blood and his come leaking out of me.

“You’re a means to an end, Scarlett.” He says before spitting on me. “A hole to use, and a thing to fuck until your time is up.”

I can’t look at him. I can’t bring myself to meet his awful eyes, but I’m aware of every step he takes as he walks out of the room.

I need this to stop. I need this to end.

I try to get up, but my arms won’t work. I try to force myself to my knees, but they buckle. And then that screaming that was only in my head, is now erupting. It’s exploding. And I can’t shut it up. I can’t do a damned thing except let it out, let it all out.

Alexander

She’s hysterical. A complete fucking mess. The maids try to calm her. They try to pacify her, but it makes no difference whatsoever.

She’s naked, filthy, with blood and god knows what else smeared on her skin. She looks savage. She looks like some feral beast.

In frustration, I stride across the room, grabbing her by her waist and throw her over my shoulder, hauling her back to her bedroom. She pounds her fists into my back and kicks into mychest, but it doesn’t make a damned bit of difference. Once inside, I kick the door shut and toss her onto the bed.

She screams more.

She lashes out.

Shouting some bullshit about my father. About the Forster’s. About her own father too. None of it makes any sense.

“Get the meds.” I snap over my shoulder. She’s clearly catatonic and won’t see reason.

“She’s already had her morning dose.” A maid replies. “Any more might be too much…”

I wave my hand, dismissing her words. Like now is really the time to worry about limits and overdoses.

“You bastard.” Scarlett hisses, having scrambled up enough to get right in my face. “You bastard. You can’t do this to me. You can’t.”

A smack to her face seems to knock some sense into her, but only for a brief moment.

I grab her hands, holding them tightly so she can no longer hurt me or anyone else.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I growl.

When I left her this morning, she was fine. She was laying there, asleep, peaceful, perfectly damn content. What on earth could have happened to explain this sudden turn?

“Like you don’t know.” She spits, practically frothing at the mouth. “Like you haven’t let him fuck me enough times.”

That gets my attention. I pause, narrowing my eyes as an anger flares inside me. No one should be touching her without my say so, without me there, allowing it. “Who?”

---