Written by K.A. Knight
Rage (Her Monsters Book One)
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to places, events or real people are entirely coincidental.
Edited By Jess from Elemental Editing and Proofreading & Kaila Duff
Formatted by Kaila Duff of Duffette Literary Services
For my three-way girls, I never knew you could find your soulmates in friends before you.
Please be aware that this book contains scenes that some may find triggering.
If you have any concerns, please skip to the last page of the book, where I’ve given a more specific warning that does contain come spoilers.
I hate my husband. If I could, I would take this lingerie and choke him to death with it. Eying the newest addition of horrible gifts he’s given me, I frown at myself in the mirror. I’ve gotten skinny, well, skinnier, probably due to his constant fucking need to control what I eat. He says I’m too chunky, that no one will love me if I’m fat. Eying myself now, I feel like a stranger. I loved my curves, the dip in my hips, my rounded stomach, my thick thighs, and ass. Just another thing I’ve lost in my life because of him. Don’t get me wrong, I chose this, well at first I did. He was charming, dressed to the nines in suits and expensive shoes. He spoilt me, taking me to all these fancy restaurants and showing me off. I should have known then that behind that charming facade hid a monster. I never questioned the money, or the lifestyle, not even when the ridiculous gifts started turning up.
It was little things at first, like clothing. I’d felt flattered, but then I realised he was trying to control what I wore, and they were always a size too small. When I asked, he told me I would have to lose weight to fit into them. That was a big no for me, I might be poor, but I knew who I was—well, I used to. I tried to get away, I really did. I stopped texting him back and answering his calls. It only seemed to enrage him, and I’d finally got a glimpse of what he’d hid under that glossy surface.
He started turning up at my apartment in the middle of the night in a rage. In my fear, I’d rung the police. My second mistake. He had them in his pockets, well, more like his boss did. They escorted me somewhere ‘safe,’ only to pass me over to him. He locked me in the penthouse apartment he called home for three weeks after that.
I’d lost my job, my friends. They thought I didn’t want them in my life anymore—nothing could have been further from the truth. I was so alone, so scared. He pictured himself as my savior.
A new plan formed, I went along with it all, but my escape was always lingering in my mind. Waiting for him to slip up, to trust me, and he did. When he fell asleep one night after getting blackout drunk, I snuck out with nothing but the clothes on my back. I had slept on the streets before, I could do it again. Get somewhere safe, away from him.
I lasted a week before his men found me. It was the first time he attacked me. I soon learnt my lesson and he broke my spirit. Time and time again, my body was his to do with what he wanted, even though a small part of me had rebelled at his control, hated him, but I knew I had to bide my time. Be smart, play the perfect girlfriend—sorry, wife.
About a month ago, I woke up tied to a chair with a wedding ring on my finger and a bored looking man ordaining our marriage. He touched me softly that night, telling me he loved me. That I was his everything, he was so happy that I had agreed to marry him. When he fell asleep, I’d crept into the bathroom, the one he took the door off of, and cried. I thought about ending my life, there was no escape from him. His men were everywhere and the police were under his control. I was nothing, just a poor girl from a small town who came to the city to try and make a better life. Even my friends had been more like acquaintances, people to ride out the boring with.
I’d even picked up his razor blade, but I couldn't do it. I’d wait years if I