Page 6 of Wilder Obsessions

I pull on my signature red-and-black lace corset, tightening the ribbons on the back myself.The fabric clinches my waist, a gentle reminder of the curves that draw wandering eyes.I zip the bottom so it hugs me nicely, gliding over my hips and accentuating their thickness, a trait that has become both a blessing and a curse.

With each flick of my brush, I paint stories upon my skin: tales of seduction and survival, masked beneath silky silver hair that cascades down in loose waves.I’ve always had this unusual colored hair, which most people think I’ve dyed myself.I was born with this lustrous silver that almost seems to sparkle at times.

I give myself a once-over in the mirror, ensuring my makeup is flawless—smoky eyes and bold red lipstick, a look that commands attention like a song begging to be heard.My chest tightens as I look at myself, not recognizing the woman I’ve become.How did I get here?I had dreams.I wanted to make something of myself, but here I am fighting for my life every day.

Jarrod wasn’t always like this.When we first met in college, he swept me off my feet with his good looks and charm.His smoldering brown eyes and toned body lured me into his trap.But all good things come to an end, right?It’s like a switch was flipped in him when we moved in together.He forced me to quit school to get a job to pay for everything.Meanwhile, he began wasting away on drugs and alcohol.He lost his medical scholarship, which he blames me for and began taking out his anger on me.The truth was, he got in with the wrong crowd of people at school and that’s when his drug use started.Nevertheless, I’m his personal punching bag when something doesn’t go his way.The first time it happened, he dropped to his knees before me and cried for hitting me, begging me for forgiveness.My heart broke for him so I tried to get him help.

He went to a doctor one time and was diagnosed with “intermittent explosive behavior.”The diagnosis angered him so badly, he threw the psychiatrist’s desk across the room, freaking her out.He ended up threatening to kill her if she ever told anyone what happened and I guess she didn’t because no police ever came to take him away like I hoped they would.

That’s when things went from bad to worse.Now here I am years later, looking at the shell of the girl I once was.Determined to proceed with my plan, I straighten my shoulders and remind myself I won’t die here.Iwillget out and Iwillfinally have peace.

Taking a deep breath, I slip on my high-heeled, knee-high boots, then turn in the mirror to make sure everything is in place, mentally preparing for the chaos of the night ahead.The music, the crowd, the endless orders for drinks, can be overwhelming.I lean into the mirror to ensure the bruises have been covered well enough, not allowing a single hint of the reality I face each night to seep into the professional façade I have created.

After all, I don’t need more questions than I already get from Kit, my boss and reluctant confidante.She watches me like a hawk before every shift, and though she never openly asks, I can see the concern in her sharp blue eyes.I remember the night I stumbled into Alley Katz, fresh from a bruising incident that left me shaken, and how she offered me a job with a glimmer of empathy.I feel her understanding from the way her gaze softens each time I don my work attire.I often wonder how she knows what nightmares I return home to every night.It’s like she can read my mind, or maybe I’m just not good at hiding it.

Grabbing my bag, I head toward the door as my boyfriend calls out behind me.The sound of his voice slithers through the air, grating against my skin.

“Well, don’t you look like a fat whore.It’s a wonder you make any tips at all,” he sneers as he saunters over to me.Shivers crawl down my spine.I was hoping I could slip out tonight without him noticing since he’d been so drunk this afternoon, making him pass out.

“You know this is the usual uniform for the bar.We need the money, Jarrod.Just let me—”

His laughter cuts through my voice like a serrated knife.“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t appreciate being waited on by your fat ass.”He grabs my hips hard, no doubt leaving more marks behind.I wince from the pain, turning my face so he doesn’t see.It will only land me in more trouble.

“Too bad I never made it to medical school.I could slice you up until you were my perfect little doll,” he chuckles darkly.Bile rises in my throat, knowing he still would use his precious knife on me, degree or not.His proclivity to use the blade on me increases by the day.He makes a slicing noise as his fingers trail over me, as though he’s cutting away all my imperfections.I barely eat as it is because there’s no money left after he gets his hands on it.At the thought of food, my stomach grumbles.

“See, you’re always hungry.This is why I limit your food intake or you’d be as big as a house.”He holds his arms out wide, showing me how large I would be.

“Anyways, make sure you earn enough tonight for me to get my weed and pills tomorrow.It’s the only way I can stand the sight of you.”

“Then why don’t you let me go?”I murmur, wishing my voice was stronger.A tear falls to my cheek and without warning, Jarrod’s hand is flying through the air slapping my face.A gasp of pain bubbles out of my mouth, causing his eyes to darken.

“Oh, my little Arwen, you’ll never be free of me.Your holes are still tight and you bring me money, so you’re still of use,” he muses.“Maybe you need to get on your knees right now and show me how thankful you are to have a man put up with your shit.”My breath gets choked in my throat as he presses his hands down on my shoulders.

“J-Jarrod, I’m going to be late—”

I want to yell, to scream that I deserve more than his scorn and disdain, but a lump forms in my throat.In the fleeting silence, I can feel the heat of anger rising, an inferno threatening to engulf my nerves.But I know better, so I grind my teeth instead, swallowing my pride.

“Hmm, saved by the clock I suppose, but be ready to take it in your throat and ass as soon as you get home, my little cum-dumpster.”He roughly slams his fingers into my mouth then pulls me forward.

“I can see that look in your eyes.Don’t ever think I won’t own you in every way, so you better keep coming up with good excuses for those marks.If I go down, I’m taking you with me.”His threat lingers in the air, forcing me to change the subject or he’ll never let me leave.

“I’ll get you your money,” I reassure with a forced smile, hoping it looks natural.I just need a little more cash before I can start over in a new city with a new name.Somewhere he can’t find me.I think of the stash I hid behind a loose brick in my closet.I am so close to freedom I can taste it.The desperation to escape his harm fuels every step I take.

His anger is palpable, affecting the very air around us.He wraps his fingers around my throat, pushing me against the rough wooden door.My heart races, pounding like war drums in my chest.

“You better not be lying to me,” he growls, his voice vibrating with menace.I can feel the heat of his slimy breath against my skin.“I don’t want to hear any excuses this time.If you don’t bring home enough, you’ll regret it.You know what happens when you disappoint me.”Undeniable fear wraps around my chest, making it hard to breathe.

“I’ll get it, I promise,” I wheeze, stars starting to dance in my eyes from the lack of oxygen.My heart races, and I can feel a cold sweat forming on my back.The fear of his wrath is a constant shadow, and I know I have to get away from him before it’s too late.

He shoves me up against the wall and drops his arms, scoffing as he turns away.I swallow, trying to alleviate the pain, and hurry to leave, my head pounding and my breathing shallow.As soon as the front door is locked behind me, tears fall freely down my face.A mix of relief and pure rage churns in my gut.I wish I had a family to turn to but of course I was an orphan.My parents didn’t want me and neither did any of the foster homes.The only thing that got me through the hurt was to lose myself in songs.Singing has always been my passion, almost like it’s ingrained in my very soul.Jarrod can’t stand the sound of it and forbids me to sing at home.He’s always saying it makes him feel weird.I don’t understand why my voice affects him so much.It’s always been a mystery.

The night air feels like a lifeline, and I gulp it in, trying to steady my racing heart.I have to get through tonight.Just a little more money, and I’ll be free.His words feel like poison, wrapping around my heart.“You’ll never be free of me.”They echo in my ears like the tolling of a death knell, and the burning resolve within me grows like a flame fueled by pure terror.The bar might not be perfect, but it’s my escape from him, even if just for a few hours.

As I approach the entrance, the familiar hum of music and chatter grows louder.I slip through the back entrance and greet the bouncer, Jim, as he checks his clipboard and opens the metal door.

“Evening, Arwen.You ready for another late night?”

“Always,” I reply, forcing a smile.Scanning the space, I see the two bartenders that worked the day shift, hustling through the sea of people.This place can get really busy during the weekend and tonight is no exception.

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