Page 63 of Promises in the Dark

“You little shit,” he growled. “You have no idea what you’re messing with.”

My vision blurred as my father’s hands closed around my throat, squeezing the air out of my lungs. His fingers dug into my flesh, leaving red marks on my skin. I tried to gasp for air like a dying fish, but all that came out was a weak, strangled sound.

“Stop struggling, you goddamn pussy!” he yelled, tightening his grip even more.

My head was spinning, and I could feel the world starting to fade away. But I didn’t give a shit. I had always known that I was a thorn in his side, but I never realized just how much I annoyed him until now.

I couldn’t help but grin like an idiot, knowing that I had gotten under his skin and pushed his buttons.

Somehow, I ripped one hand free and went for his face, clawing like a rabid dog, but the bastard was too damn strong. My nails barely scratched him before he slammed my hand back down, pinning me like the weak piece of shit he always said I was.

His grip tightened. I could feel my throat closing up, like my windpipe was collapsing under the pressure. My lungs were screaming, desperate for air, but it didn’t fucking matter. My whole body started to go limp, arms heavy like deadweight. I couldn’t hear anything except for a faint ringing in my ears.

I was done with this bullshit. He could have his ‘manly’ way of treating me, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

I reveled in the feeling of pissing him off and making him lose his mind. It was the only way I could get back at him for all the times he had hurt me.

And it was worth every fucking second.

Fuck my old man and his twisted ideas of manhood.

It wasn’t the first time, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. But every time he tried to beat me down, I swore one day I’d be out of this goddamn hellhole for good. I’d show him what a real man was, even if it was the last thing I did.

Then my whole world just narrowed down to the searing pain in my throat,until finally—blackness.

“Rogue…”

I heard a faint voice, barely a whisper, taunting me from the depths of the abyss.

A memory, a feeling, a fucking nightmare.

I strained my ears, trying to hear over the sound of my own ragged breathing, but all I could feel was the suffocating grip of my father’s hand around my neck, sending me into a blind panic.

“Rogue, I can’t breathe…”

And then, the fucking pain. It started in my chest, a sharp, stabbing agony that radiated out to my limbs. I felt like I was being torn apart from the inside, like my guts were being ripped out and fed to me in chunks.

I wanted to scream, to cry out for help, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but feel the pain.

I snapped my eyes open, the haze fading away, leaving me disoriented and drenched in a cold sweat. The room was shrouded in darkness, and my heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to make sense of my surroundings.

Fuck, where was I?

I rubbed my eyes, trying to focus. My head throbbed with a vengeance like it had been beaten with a crowbar, pulsating with each beat of my heart. I groaned, trying to piece together what the fuck had just happened.

And then, I saw her.

Red looked like she’d seen the fucking Grim Reaper, her body tense and rigid with fear. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight of the red marks around her neck. They were dark and sore, standing out against her pale skin like a neon sign.

I had been choking her in my sleep.

I scrambled to my feet, my legs weak beneath me, and stumbled towards her.

“Red, fuck,” I rasped, my mind still fuzzy from the nightmare. “I’m—I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

But the words felt empty, hollow, because actions spoke louder than apologies.

And my actions screamedmonster.

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