Page 5 of Fractured

Gritting my teeth and hating myself for putting up a front of being weak, I have to make him believe he’s broken me. It goes against everything I am. With a deep breath, I let out a whimper and relax my body. That darkness inside me rears her head in disgust, but Scott lets out a pleased hum.

He paws at my skirt, the smoothness of hands that have never seen a day of work contrasting with the sharp scrape of his nails. I scan the room for items I can use against him just as soon as I’ve escaped his punishing hold. With each item I spot, I play out the scene of how I’ll use it to kill him. Pure, unadulterated anger courses through my veins. It swells with each pulse of my heartbeat, expanding and retracting to where I can even feel it in my fingertips and toes.

My skirt bunches around my waist and Scott shifts his forearm to press against the middle of my back. He pushes all of his weight into his arm to keep me down as his other hand fumbles with his belt. My palms press flat against the floor and I flex my fingers with each whimpering mewl I make. Closing my eyes, I focus on his movements, biding my time until he relaxes.

The heat from his cock touches me moments before the rigid member lands on my ass cheek. I can already tell the length is impressive. Desire mingles with the anger pulsing through my body. Not for him, but for sex itself. It’s one of the only things in life that I find pleasurable. Although in this situation, I take personal offense that something I would have given up freely is being forced from me.

My legs are pushed even farther apart as his knees slide to the sides. His cock glides against my crack, leaving a trail of slickness from his pre-cum. Scott clearly gets overly excited when taking power from others. Fucking despicable.

And here I am, getting turned on by a huge cock trying to rape me. If I was a worse person, I would knock him out, tie him up, chop off his dick, and use it to masturbate in front of him when he wakes back up. Okay… that’s not the worst idea actually. I just don’t think I can contain my anger long enough to keep him alive to pull it off.

His hot breath rakes against my ear. He pants, barely able to contain the euphoria he gets from taking what isn’t his. As his cock brushes against my pussy, he lets out a moan. “Mmm. You’re wet for me, baby. You want my huge cock to fuck you, don’t you?” he rasps.

The weight of his chest presses against my back as his hands land on either side of my head. He pushes onto his palms as his pelvis grinds against me. His cock lining up against my pussy, gliding through the wetness I couldn’t prevent from showing up to the party. My darkness has a penchant for cock. Doesn’t matter what the situation is apparently.

I could let him fuck me… just for a little while. Long enough to get a couple of orgasms before I teach him a lesson. Although letting him get any pleasure out of this would be too kind.

A higher-pitched moan distracts me from my thoughts. This fucker sounds like he’s ready to come any second now, and he hasn’t even lined himself up to push inside me. There’s no way he’ll last long enough for me to come. Back to plan A, then.

A thrill rushes through me. I know anyone considered normal would be paralyzed with fear of being in this situation. But not me. I’m filled with perverse pleasure, excitement sizzling through me like a livewire. I’ve never given in to the dark thoughts I get, but if there’s ever a time that calls for action, it’s now.

Something tells me that if I give in to them, it will mean never going back. The thought excites me more than deters me. Those consequences are something I’m willing to deal with. They feel worth it; not to mention, the alternative isn’t an option. I’m not about to let someone take something from me like this. To get away with thinking they can control me.

Scott is completely distracted as he tries to enter me, and I know now is the time to end this. I throw my elbow back and it connects with his nose, crunching on impact. He spews out curses and jerks his body back enough for me to roll to the side, kicking out my leg as I move. I hear his grunt as it connects with his stomach, knocking the breath out of him.

Crawling quickly, I make it to the nightstand, pushing onto my knees. My hand is just closing on the lamp when he grips my ponytail and tugs me back. I instinctively tighten my grip, bringing the lamp with me, and the cord is yanked from the wall as I land on my shoulders.

Before I can blink, Scott is straddling me again. His fist slams into the cheek that’s already raw from rubbing on the floor. Pain radiates from the spot, traveling around my skull. My head whips to the side and black dots dance in my vision. His hands find their way around my throat, squeezing, so air can’t enter.

Now he’s just making things more fun.

Glaring into his eyes, I find a wave of unhinged anger that rivals mine. He’s never met a monster to match his own. Someone who can fight back. His eyes widen a fraction the moment he finally catches on, and a trickle of amusement finds its way inside me. What he doesn’t realize, though… mine is worse than his.

I grin up at him, my smile splitting my cheeks, making the pounding ache flair up. He hesitates, unable to process why I would smile at him while he’s choking the life from me.

He doesn’t notice the lamp swinging for his head until it's too late. It crashes into his skull with a resounding crack as the ceramic shatters. His hold on my neck releases as he tries to keep his balance while also shaking off the dazed feeling. I don’t let up with my attack as I suck a breath in. Swinging the lamp from its base again, the jagged edges catch his face, cutting lines across his attractive features.

The sight of his blood sends a new sense of delight through my nerves, and for the first time in my life, I finally feel like I’m living.

His hands cradle the newest injury I’ve caused, and with a buck of my hips, he falls to the side. I jump on top of him, switching our positions from moments ago. Now I know what it feels like for my smile to reach my eyes. This is exciting.

Scott gazes up at me through the blood dripping across his face. For the first time tonight, fear crosses his eyes. His brain finally catching up with his predicament. He was never the predator tonight. It was always me.

“Remi, please. Stop. I’m sorry. Whatever it is you want to do, don’t do it,” he pleads.

I relish the fear he gives me. Now I understand what he feels when he rapes women. The power he possesses when they know there’s nothing they can do to save themselves. I sense the same desire he had—to have him give in to me, submit to my superiority.

A small spark of defiance lights in his eyes, and he takes a swing at me. I block the punch and swing the base of the lamp right at the center of his face. The heavy base makes an impact, and the force travels up my arm. His already broken nose crunches even more as fresh blood runs down his face.

When he looks back up at me, his eyes have gained that vacant, can’t focus, glassy look. With one hand, he pushes himself slightly off the ground, while the other gingerly holds his face. I can feel his pain, it’s like an energy conduit for me. And the more pain he’s in, the more alive I feel.

I place the base of the lamp on the floor beside us, and gather the cord between my two hands, holding it like it’s a garrotte. Embracing that darkness I found inside myself, she merges with my very essence, becoming one.

With my elbow, I knock the hand away that’s pressed to Scott’s head. Before he has a chance to realize what I’m doing, I wrap the cord around his neck and wind the excess around my hands. I pull as tight as I can and watch with glee as the cord cuts into the skin at his neck.

Scott flails around as gurgling, choking sounds come from him. His hands reach for his neck and he digs into his skin, trying to grip the cord. His nails leave behind scratches that turn into welts instantly. The lack of blood flow and oxygen turns his face purple. I watch, mesmerized by the color changes, paired with the desperate panic flashing in his eyes.

He’s so worried about getting his next breath of air, he doesn’t think to attack me. It just makes it that much easier for me to keep my hold as the life drains from him. His struggles become weaker until finally, he stops moving.

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