Page 8 of Beg for Death
"Everything you need is here." He sounded so sure of himself.
But this man had no idea the pain I'd suffer, the way I'd lose myself, if I wasn't properly medicated. My skin itched like it was covered with millions of ants. It took no time at all for me to start to scratch something my father hated constantly. Everyone hated it. I'd get stares of disgust and confusion shot my way constantly. That never helped the depression, let alone the urge to not scratch. If anything, all those gazes locked on me made my skin crawl even more.
"What are you doing?" He glanced over at the small table pulled up close to the bed, his brows furrowed as if he was trying to figure something out. "Your dad never mentioned if you were allergic to anything."
As if that man would know. I didn't care about my dad right now or even their relationship. What was happening was only the beginning, and I had no desire to drag it out.
"I'll do anything. Please." My fingertips tingled. I probably wasn't having a full-on withdrawal just yet, but knowing that I hadn't had my meds in a while was enough to fuck with my head.
His thick arms crossed over his chest as his heavy-lidded gaze swept up and down my body. There was a dark glint in his eyes I couldn't place.
Under different circumstances, I might even go as far as to think he had an interest in me. There was no way. He looked like that, and I was a hot fucking garbage fire on a good day.
I rubbed my arms as I took a step back. The chain around my ankle rattled, reminding me that I was a prisoner.
"Why are you running, estúpido conejito?"stupid bunny
My head snapped back up as I focused on the man before me. How could I not? I swallowed, forcing myself to stand still. The urge to crack my knuckles had each of my fingers tingling. I was only able to hold back by chewing into my cheek even more. The taste of blood was becoming familiar, to the point I barely noticed it anymore. I could feel puffy ridges from where I'd concentrated a bit too long.
His laughter filled my room and blanketed me in hopelessness. "What could you possibly give me when I take whatever I want from you. If I wanted, I could make you lick the bottom of my shoe, and there is nothing you could do to resist."
It terrified me how right he was. However, what scared me more was the thought of feeling like I was being weighed downby a brick while having the majority of my body emerge in ice-cold water.
Not again.Anything was better than drowning in my own brain.
I lowered myself to my knees, every part of me screaming to fight, and yet a small part of me wanted to just give in. The moment I gave in, what if everything got better? I got good food, the damn chain that was chaffing my ankle would disappear, or maybe a softer bed. Then again, it could get worse. He could be disgusted and take his anger out on me.
There were too many outcomes and too many choices for me to make. I didn't want any of them. I wished, not for the first time, to just shut my brain off and follow whatever direction I was given. But that wasn't real life. It never was.
"I'll be good. I'll listen to whatever you want. I need this." Desperation laced every single syllable.
I'm pathetic.
My father's taunts came crashing into my head like little annoying gnats.
Be a man already. Stop crying so much. Why are you still here? How could my genes make something so useless? A day doesn't go by that I don't regret not making your mother abort you.
It had been well over a year since I'd let my father's words so much as influence my mood, and yet on knees in front of this stranger, they were all that came to mind. Hot tears slipped down my cheeks.
"Joder, estás deliciosa cuando lloras."Damn you look delicious when you cry.
He reached down, and I flinched back. I fully expected a punch, but instead his fingers curled in my hair and he yanked my head back. The pinpricks of pain settled over my scalp and trickled down my spine. I never understood it but pain had theeffect of quieting parts of my brain no amount of medication could. My breath hitched as I tried to stop the tears. I went to wipe them away only for him to smack my hands down.
"Don't even think about it."
My hand fell to my side, and I let my tears continue to fall. Our eyes locked in an intense stare off that I couldn't break away from. That dark glint in his gaze that appeared sometimes when he watched me was back. What did it mean?
"You will do anything?" His straight white teeth only made him look oddly handsome. "Without complaint."
I blinked a few times and tears broke away from my lash line and slid down my cheeks. His question registered in my head, and I tried to nod but his grip tightened.
"Yes."
His nails dug into my flesh and a new wave of pain sent electricity throughout my nervous system.
"Yes, sir."
"Good boy." His sultry voice shouldn't have shockwaves tingling over my body, and yet the simple praise made my face hot.
