different, too.
“I said no.” I hate that I have to tell him twice.
“Fine,” he says as he tucks himself back into his pants and I feel a small sense of relief.
“Come here, you know I didn’t mean it.” He leans across the console to give me a kiss and I hesitate, but I lean in anyway. Because I’m a fucking idiot. Because I thought I just needed to make the lines clearer. Like it was my fault.
That was right before I tried to leave him. I had no one else, and I was afraid to be alone. I was so desperate for his “love” that I stayed with that fucking creep far too long. Things only got worse after that. I remember the night I tried to sneak out and run away. Before I left, I looked down on his sleeping body and thought about slitting his throat. How awful of a person had I become where I thought I should kill him? Not fucking awful at all. That bastard deserved to die. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lower myself to becoming a murderer, so instead I sneaked out through a window and hoped I could start over. Instead I fell right into a new world of hell.
I hear them laugh as Lorenzo backhands me again. This time I fall. I learned to make it look real.
When he was drunk that’s the game he played. How many hits until the mouse would fall? He liked his nickname for me even more after I saw what happened. He was daring me, taunting me to be a rat. If I stayed on the ground, he’d only kick me a few times. I learned to just stay curled on my side and wait for the beatings to be over, no matter how much he urged me to stand. He only made it worse if I obeyed him. Bruises gave way to broken bones, but by then, I had no way to leave. I was trapped and beaten regularly for his enjoyment. I barely escaped them. And I only managed because they were reckless. Their desires to cause me even more pain is what eventually gave me my out.
They came into the room they kept me in. It’d only been a few days of being trapped there, feeling helpless and weak, trying to recover from the beating he gave me. The three of them came into the room and left the door wide open as they stalked to my bed. I knew what they were going to do. I rock harder, remembering the fear. I fucking bolted. I just kept thinking, Please don't let them catch me.
They can never catch me. Never. I had to do everything I could to escape that hell. But I had no one. Not a single soul to run to. My mother was everyone and everything to me. But she’d been dead for nearly a year. I ran to her grave and prayed for a sign. That’s when the cops showed up, sirens blaring. I thanked my mom every day.
I thought she’d saved me like she always did.
But they did catch me.
Only they didn’t come after me directly like I thought they would. They sent someone else.
I have no clue how long it’s been. I don’t know what he’s doing. Or what this training is going to be like when he gets back. I have absolutely no control in any of it either, and I don’t like it. I tug at the hem of my nightgown, wishing it were longer so I could cover myself up more. My knees are drawn up to my chest, and I rest my head on them as I consider my next step.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what my options are. He said he’d give me my life and everything I needed. I want to believe that’s true, but what's the catch? I know his intentions aren’t pure. And I’m certain his terms aren’t negotiable.
I’m eager to hear what he has to say though. I want to know what I’ve gotten myself into. That way I can figure out how to get the fuck out of here.
My back is killing me, so I keep up my rocking. It feels better than just sitting still for however fucking long it’s been. I’d get up and stretch or do yoga, but I don't want to be standing when he walks in. I want to be ready.
Well, as ready as I