.

When I woke up, the first thing I realized was that I had been moved from the car. I didn't understand how I had not woken when someone presumably carried me inside, but that was such an unimportant thing to spend my time thinking about.

A slight gasp unconsciously found it's way out of my mouth when I saw where I was. The room was like the one I'd been placed in when I first arrived. It was cold, dark and obviously in the basement. The striking difference was the instruments displayed on the walls of the small room. There were all sorts of terrifying devices, whips, knifes and even ordinary garden tools. However all of the weapons scared me beyond compare because I knew there was a truly agonizing way for Antonio to use each one.

I had not noticed but I was also strapped into a chair, arms and ankles tied to it's metal frame. I shuddered as I remembered the last time I was in a similar situation to this with the same tormentor. Something else that I had not realized was Antonio's dark presence. His figure slowly got closer to me as he moved from his leaning position against the door frame.

"I'm going to give you a choice here."

I hoped for his words to have a pleasant meaning but was immediately disheartened when he gestured to the weapons.

"Now....pick a number from one to four."

He spoke so cheerfully. His excitement was clear and it was sickening to me. The fact that he seemed happy and jolly just made the whole situation so much more sinister. I felt all of the hairs on my arms rise up and goosebumps began to appear on the surface of my skin as a result of my eminence fear.

"Look, I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have escaped. I swear I never will again!"

I was trying to reason with him, though my words were not all true. I could try and escape again. He said himself that if I hadn't gone straight home I may have had a chance. As far as I knew my way of getting money hadn't drawn attention so if I did the same but got on a flight to somewhere unpredictable, then it could work.

"Pick. A. Number."

He spoke slow and clear. Still I could only shake my head, desperately trying to prolong my supposedly inevitable punishment. Once he had caught on to my silence he screamed in my face,

"PICK A GODDAMN FUCKING NUMBER ALICE"

I was taken back by his sudden outburst and watched cautiously as he leant down and breathed against my face, seemingly calming himself down.

"Trust me, you don't want me to pick for you."

He nibbled my ear slightly before pulling away to assess my reactions.

"3!"

I quickly blurted out hoping it was the right decision. Antonio smiled. Shit. That was an automatic give away that it had not been a good choice, not if it made him happy.

"Perfect."

He strolled over the wall. He then paused and placed his hands in his pockets while letting out a deep breath.

"We will start with that."

The blade came down on my arm slowly. He drew out the action but made sure to slice into my skin harshly, leaving a deep gash. I hissed and cried in pain, watching in disgust as the blood poured from the wound. He then moved onto my next arm. The blade being used was blunt. I presumed that was the preferred tool because it was harder to cut with and therefore was more painful then a sharp, crisp blade.

I let out another moan of pain when the knife was bought back down to my skin. I now had two cuts, defiantly deep enough to require stitches, running from my shoulder to elbow. My guess was that he was avoiding my wrist area and that was because Antonio did not want to kill me. He just wanted to hurt me....badly, and I did not yet know that that was a much worse fate than death.

Antonio's next target were my ankles. He lowered himself to the floor and untied the bounds around my feet so he could lift one into his hand. It caught me off guard when he began to massage them. I just waited for the pain. I then understood his intentions when he held it at a new angle, ready to snap it. He was going to break my ankle.

"N-no! Nooooo, Antonio please don't!"

He raised he eyes up to me. A blank expression was displayed on his face.

"P-please."

I practically whispered. I almost believed my begging had been successful. But then he smiled. Leaving no time for me to figure out what that smile meant, he roughly snapped the bone. I let out a wild howl of pain. His break was precise, he knew how to do it so the bone would eventually heal well, but it still was agony to me.

I hung my head down and cried, trying to focus on getting through the pain but was again distracted when my other foot was grabbed. I suddenly felt the urge to fight against the dangerous man's grip and while thrashing around, I had knocked my newly broken foot against the chair leg. I let out another scream in pain and Antonio took this as his perfect opportunity to repeat the action by breaking my other ankle. The pain was unbearable and I screamed as he just slowly stood back up.

"I can't trust you not to try and run, now you physically can't."

The monster left little time for me to get used to the new burst of pain before walking back over to his display of instruments before picking up a whip.

I couldn't stand, because of my broken ankles, so he forced me onto the floor into a kneeling position, my back to him.

"Take of your shirt."

He waited for a few seconds, still I hadn't complied. That was mainly because of my fear. I remembered what it was like when Ryan belted me and I was well aware that this would be much worse. Belts were made to be worn, whips were made to cause pain.

"SHIRT AND BRA NOW ALICE!"

His voice lowered.

"Do not, make me ask again."

My shaking fingers hesitantly gripped onto the hem of my shirt. My mind drifted off while I unconscious finished taking them off, as requested of me. I found myself swimming in the memories of when Ryan used to hit me. I remember the whistle of the belt as he swung it violently through the air, where the tough leather then proceeded to break it's fall on my fragile back. I begged him to stop. He never did. He just carried on hitting me, parts of my soul chipping away as he did so. Now it was going to happen again. And I hated myself. I was weak. I could fight, but I didn't want to anymore. I was already pass the point of saving my self.

I came aware of the current situation again by the sharp intake of breath from Antonio. His looming figure stood behind me, whip in hand. He came closer. I knew why.

He hadn't seen the scars yet. The lines on my back marking the abuse I had already experienced. All of a sudden I felt his contact against my skin, making me shudder from the unexpected touch. I was so used to him being rough with me, this was new. And I liked it. His fingers gently grazed my back, tracing over the markings that were drawn on my body like railway lines. The sudden sensation caught me off guard but it was in a pleasant way, though it left as soon as it came.

He stood and darkness took him over once again as he let out a shout of anger, whooshing the whip through the air straight onto me. The pain caused me to scream as I accidentally fell forward onto all fours, in attempt to brace for the next wave of pain to come. Antonio did not disappoint. His hits kept coming. Each lashing became stronger and stronger than the last.

I wasn't counting them. I knew it was pointless. Numbers and limits meant nothing in this hell. Antonio would stop this abuse whenever he thought it was fit to. Not when I had had enough, the whip lost it's bite or someone interrupted us. When he wanted to.

My body felt like it was on fire, every inch of it burned with agony. I could feel blood leaking from the lashes. The wounds felt deep and I knew that the next time I looked in the mirror my back would be painted with the thin, scarlet veins that were created by the hits. Nor Antonio or the whip itself had any mercy. They were both ruthless.

I could feel myself passing out. I wanted to, at least then the pain would end. But even when my shattered body was lying facedown on the floor, motionless due to my exhaustion, Antonio's hits did not stop let alone weaken. My whole form shook at every single beating, from it's own accord.

My eyes began to force themselves shut and all I could think was that I was going to die.

As soon as I saw the scars my chest hurt. It was painful to see Alice like that. I finally understood the length of the abuse she had suffered from her ex and couldn't help but feel guilty. I wanted nothing more than to be able to run up to her and provide all the love and care that she would ever need. But then I remembered what she did. She ran from me. And before I even realized that my anger had taken over I heard her cry, telling me that I'd already hit her. But I didn't stop, I didn't want to. She had to learn that she was mine. She had to be punished. She would submit to me fully. I would make sure that the only person she could think of ever again would be me. She would give herself to me and in return I would treat her immaculately.

Suddenly I noticed that she had stopped moving. Her whole body was still. I dropped the whip and knelt beside her. Fearing the worst, I placed my fingers on her in order to check for a pulse. Please don't be dead. I couldn't loose her. I didn't know what I felt or why, my feelings for Alice were unexplainable and that frustrated me beyond belief. I just knew how much I needed her. I was addicted.

I let out a relieved sigh when I could confirm she was ok. I then observed the damage. I really had done a number on her. The wounds went from her lower back all the way up to the shoulders. Each one was bleeding and the force of the hits had managed to reopen some of her old wounds from that son of a bitch she used to date. He had no right to touch her, Alice was mine. I would never let another man lay a hand on her ever again.

I scooped her fragile body into my arms and carried her up to my room so that my doctor could fix her up so her punishment could continue. I noticed the dried tears on her cheeks and lowered my face to hers, licking away each one.

What are you doing to me Alice Green?