Page 339 of Eternal
He dragged me up the stairs by the wrist. I limped, blood sticking to the floor behind me, every step echoing with my heart.
You’re weak. Fifteen and still hoping someone will come save you? No one’s coming. Do it yourself.
My chest hurts. It feels hard to breathe, like something was sitting on me.
My skin was burning, itchy with sweat and shame. The hallway felt too small, like the walls were closing in. Everything looked wrong… stretched out, tilted, like a bad dream where nothing made sense but I couldn’t wake up.
I can’t even daydream anymore. Not about running away. Not about being safe. Not about the stars. I just hope this kills me. Or the pills do. Something. Anything.
I want it to stop.
Viktor would’ve helped you.
SHUT UP!
He opened my door. Shoved me inside the room. The lock clicked. That sound again.Final.He reached for the chain he kept in that corner, clipped it to my wrist like I was a dog.
“Now scream,” the voice whispered. “Scream and make it the last time he touches you.”
But I didn’t scream. I stood there, shaking, blood dripping from my foot onto the hardwood.
I wanted to be saved. I wanted a hug that didn’t hurt. I wanted to sleep for a thousand years and never wake up in this house again.
And the voice inside me simply laughed.
“You’re a demon. Impure.” He spits. “I have to cleanse you. You remember, don’t you?”
Dirty.
Sinful.
Dirty.
Sinful.
I don’t answer.
But my body does, shaking, shrinking, folding in on itself like I’m trying to disappear. My mind slips somewhere else. Somewhere old. Somewhere I thought I locked up deep inside me.
I remember the first time.
He came into my room really late at night. He smiled then, soft, like a real dad. He knelt down in my room and said, “Don’t be scared. I just want to play with you.”
Isaid yes.
I saidyes.
Because I wanted to be good. Because he said if I was good, I’d see my mom again. I didn’t understand what “playing” meant. I was nine. And I missed my mom so bad it hurt to breathe.
I hugged him back. I remember that part.
And when it started to hurt, I didn’t pull away. I thought pain was just part of the game.
I thought maybe I was the bad one.
If it hurts, it’s because I did something wrong, I told myself. If it feels wrong, that means I deserve it. That’s what Mom taught me.
He used to whisper it, over and over, right into my hair.
