it. It’s beautiful, with a crystal base, but it’s sturdy. And heavy.
Screaming with fury, I smash the base of the lamp over and over onto the beautiful piece of jewelry.
But that’s not enough. I throw the lamp down and grasp the anklet, slamming it into the nightstand while it’s in my fist. And then the wall. It needs to be destroyed. That’s all I know. I need it gone.
“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” I scream, slamming the metal into the wall over and over with all my might. I feel something wet and warm flow down the palm of my hand and my arm and then drip onto the floor. A chill goes through me as I realize it’s my own blood. I’ve torn open my skin in my rage, but I don’t care. I want to be free. Free of it. Free of them.
“You don’t fucking own me!” I yell at the ceiling, my throat dry and aching with a pounding I know will hurt later. Slamming the now twisted and mangled anklet into the wall again, tears stream freely down my face. There’s now multiples indents all over the wall, and the fancy paint is chipped in places. But I don’t care.
“You were never my Master!” With another furious yell, I throw the anklet across the room where it hits the wall, making a jagged dent, before falling to the floor with a loud clink. I stare at the object, my breathing ragged and my shoulders heaving.
It’s only an ankle, only a piece of jewelry, but it had so much power over me, power I didn’t willingly give. Power that I’m taking back.
Exhaustion takes over my body as I realize I don’t fucking need it. I don’t want it either. Maybe the nightmares will come, maybe they won’t. But I won’t give that bastard any power over me.
Never again.
Snapping me from the realization, I hear the door creak open and the flick of a light switch. The light stings my eyes, even though I can barely see through the tears. I didn’t even realize I was crying. I wipe the tears from my eyes and suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. I stare at my hand, seeing it shaking. I close my eyes and try to calm down, the adrenaline coursing through my veins suddenly feeling like too much.
“Katia?” Isaac’s deep voice is filled with worry, but I hardly notice. It hurts so bad.
“I’m sorry,” I croak, my voice so hoarse and garbled that it doesn’t even sound human.
I hear the sound of heavy footsteps and suddenly I feel myself being lifted and gently placed on the bed. I look up through my tears to see Isaac’s handsome face looking down at me in disapproval. His green eyes slowly trail down to my bloody hands, and anger flashes in his eyes.
“Isaac,” I croak, shaking my head. I can’t have him disapproving. Not of this. Please. Please don’t.
He sits down on the bed next to me. It groans with his weight as he leans forward and brushes my hair away from face. “Shh, kitten,” he tells me softly as I continue to sob. “I need you to calm down now so I can clean you. Then you can tell me what’s wrong.”
The sound of his deep voice is soothing and I relax a little, pressing my palms to my hot, stinging eyes to keep from crying any more. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to feel anything for my past anymore. Isaac stares at me for a moment, before leaving me for a moment to gather something from the cabinet in the bathroom. I listen as the door opens and he rummages for something, all the while my heart hurting. It’s worse than the throbbing pain in my hands. He goes about cleaning up my hands. It burns like fuck, and I seethe from the pain, but he has my wounds cleaned and dressed quickly. Neither of us speaking all the while.
I’m dreading telling him. I don’t know if he’ll quite understand. But if anyone could, it would be him.
“Now, what happened?” he asks, when he’s done, placing the dirtied cloth down on the nightstand.
As I stare into his green eyes, I suddenly realize what I’ve done. I’ve let my emotions overcome me and acting in a way that could displease him. Looking at the battered walls, I feel like I’ve disrespected his house. Ashamed, I quickly try to climb off of the bed and fall