"Shhh. You can stop now. Shhh" Damian softly says as he finally gets off me.

I...

I have no words.

I couldn't believe what just happened.

I don't know how long it's been.

He never stopped.

I just...

He kept going.

I screamed.

I swore.

I pleaded.

I kicked.

I fought.

Nothing.

Nothing worked.

He heard every plea and ever scream and yet he never stopped.

He raped me.

Damian raped me.

I don't know how many times...but I felt everything, I felt every time he...

It wasn't just once, he kept going.

I wish I could say I passed out, so I didn't have to live through it over and over.

But I didn't.

He raped me in the cruellest way. He hurt me more than anyone has ever hurt me in my entire life.

He used me for his sick pleasure. He had no idea how to be gentle, he had no self-control. He didn't hold anything back from the start.

He moved me around, held my legs up, flipped me onto my stomach, my knees...any way he pleased but he loved to see my face...he told me that...he loved to watch me as he did as he wanted.

I hated seeing his face. Feeling his breath on me. His lips on me too. Hearing his grunts of pleasure.

All of it.

That's why he loved it.

I screamed and screamed, I continued trying to kick him, I tried so hard to get the cuffs off but after the third time he...came...inside of me. After I heard a sickening snap from my left wrist.

I stopped.

There was no stopping him.

I just lay there and sobbed as I continue to plead with him until the end.

Until he got tired.

Until he was satisfied.

I couldn't breathe at one point, my sobs were so strong I couldn't get any air in, they were so loud I couldn't breathe, his thrusts were so hard I couldn't keep my breath. I couldn't see from how much I was crying. My eyes we're a constant blur, they still are.

I wasn't a virgin but that didn't stop it from hurting.

It felt like my insides were being torn apart.

I felt nothing but pain.

It burned.

The longer, the more he kept going the more it burned.

I felt dripping.

I can still feel something dripping from me.

I know I'm bleeding.

He knows I'm bleeding.

He knew I was bleeding.

He doesn't care.

I hope I bleed out.

I hope I die.

He used me in that sickening way.

He used me for hours.

He laughed.

He laughed at my attempts to stop him.

The vulgar things he said to me.

Whispered in my ear.

Taunts.

He put his hand around my throat at one point. He squeezed until he released inside me again.

He licked the blood off my chest. He licked the mark he left on me.

Forever.

I feel sick to my stomach.

Hot tears still streaming down my cheeks as my nose runs down my face, sweat pouring off me as inside my chest burns from lack of oxygen and outside it stings from his horrid mark.

My wrists. Ones killing me and the other, I feel nothing at all. I can't move it. I can't even bend a finger but it doesn't hurt, it's numb.

It's broken. I know it is.

I wish this was all just a terrifying nightmare. One of those freaky realistic ones. I want nothing more than to wake up in my bed at home. Hell, even wake up in that damned basement, just as long as this never happened.

But no.

It did happen.

This is real.

This pain is real.

I don't want it to be.

Please just let me wake up from it all.

My whole body's shaking still from fear? Shock? Coldness? I don't know, all of the above.

"Shhh, shhh" he coos in my ear. He takes off the cuffs one by one, I cry harder when he does the left one as sudden shockwaves of pain spike through my arm.

I let my arms flop down before slowly drawing them in towards my chest, creating an 'X' with them.

"Come on now. Shhh, shhh, shhh, shhh. It's over, you're fine." He whispers softly as he fully climbs off of me and the bed with a non-stop smile.

You know when a child is crying and they do those short intakes of breath and are unable to stop? I've been doing that for about an hour whilst sobbing.

I hold my left wrist in my right hand, holding them both close to the middle of my breasts, ignoring the sticky sensation of blood that covers my chest.

I can still feel it.

I can feel his disgusting rough hands on me still. I can feel them on my body. I feel the pain still. I don't think it'll ever go away.

I slowly rise my head up and look down. I sob hysterically when I see my body.

What did he do to me?

My legs...

I'm covered in, my blood.

Why didn't he stop!?

He didn't even slow down.

Why did he keep doing it?!

I feel numb. Numb to emotion. All I feel is immense sadness.

The whole time. I felt it all, I seen it all but it felt like I was watching it.

Like it wasn't me.

It couldn't have been me.

But it was.

I can't even move my legs. I feel paralysed.

So, I don't move. Because I can't. I was lifeless.

I feel bad for Casey. The old Casey. The happy naive Casey. The sweet idiotic Casey.

She's gone.

All that's left is this.

This sadness in a shell of what I was.

I won't ever be that Casey again.

He comes back. With a towel. I'm still crying.

He wipes down my chest, then my legs.

I'm still crying.

I can't even breath properly. Forcing the air into my lungs.

He throws the towel aside and climbs on the bed.

Not again...

Please.

I silently beg, pleading with my eyes.

He doesn't. He lies next to me and pulls me into his chest.

Lying on my side, his head on top of mine, my head on his chest. My arms still clinging to me. His legs entrap mine. One under them and one over the top. Dragging them, trapping them with him.

One of his hands around the back of my head, holding me to his chest. The other on top my waist, forcing my body closer to his.

"Oh, come on. It wasn't that bad" I hear him say. I can hear the smile in his voice.

That smile.

The smile I see when I close my eyes. The smile that will forever be engraved in my head much like his initials on my skin.

"Shhhh. You can stop. Enough now. You must sleep" he tells me as I still do my child-like hysterical sobbing.

Questions. Thoughts. Everything flashes in my head.

Why?

Why me?

Why didn't anyone come to help me?

I thought they cared.

I thought they were looking for me.

I just want to forget.

Why did I tell him about Oliver and me?

This is all my fault.

Will I ever be me again?

I killed Oliver.

I did this.

All of this.

I basically gave him the 'green light' to rape me.

Why did all of this have to happen to me?

Why did he choose me?

Why does he want me?

Why didn't I fight better?

Why did I stop fighting?

I should have fought better.

I should have run faster.

I should have hit him, kicked, punched until I got over that gate and ran.

Why did I give up?

Why didn't I lock the front door?

That would have taken him longer to get through.

Why did I even try?

There is no getting away from him.

How could I have been so stupid?

I just want to forget everything but it keeps replying in my mind.

Couldn't I have done something, anything?!

But he still would have done it.

He would have still found me.

He will always find me.

He would have done it anyway.

If not now than in the future.

He would have raped me anyway.

He still would have raped me.

There is no stopping him.

Ever.

There is no getting away from him.

Ever...

Eventually and thankfully, I pass out from exhaustion.

———

I wake up in the same place, exactly the same position.

Everything comes back.

I hear birds singing as the morning light comes through the bedroom window and warms by back.

The birds sing so sweetly, if not for the pain I am in I would have listened to it and relaxed.

I can finally move my legs. I shift them and feel a crusty, sticky substance. I look down.

Blood.

Dried blood all down my legs. Blood soaked into the bed.

I lowly shriek in horror as the tears come back. I try to kick my weak legs to get away from the blood-stained patch of bedding.

Damian moves. He kisses my head before looking down.

"Shit!" He says quickly and gets up.

He runs into the bathroom and I hear water running. I just look down between my legs in shock.

There's more than last night.

More blood, so much more.

=============================

💜