Page 62 of Safer Together
~ Chapter Twenty-Eight ~
Angela
Dylan saunters into the room. “Oh good, you’re awake.” He stops at the foot of the bed and moves the baseball bat slightly. The ache from within feels like I am on fire.
“If I release your ankles, will you be a good girl for me?” he asks.
“Of course, Dylan, a very good girl,” I reply. He presses on the bat again forcing it further inside before changing the angle and removing it. The pain is nothing like it just was, and yet the ache that is there, I feel will never go away. His fingers quickly replace the bat’s recently located destination and curl up inside me, and I feel nothing. I am totally numb. “Your cunt is nice and loose now, Angie. I might have to find something larger for next time.” I say nothing in return. He pulls on my leg, shoving his fingers inside me at the same time,
“Dylan,” I say.
He removes his fingers from within me and trails them down to my ankle, where he begins to unclasp one hand cuff, and then the other. He rolls my ankles slowly, massaging them, before coming back up my body. He leans over and licks both of my nipples before biting them both, hard. “Dylan!” I scream.
“That’s right, Angie. I’m who your body belongs to.”
“Yes, yours,” I whisper.”
His hands drop to the side of the bed, I follow his hands with my eyes and see that he is untying the rope that’s holding me in place. Once undone, he throws it over the other side of the bed, and slides his hands under my armpits, lifting me up towards him. “I need to go to the bathroom, please Dylan.” He smooths my hair back, before slipping his hand down under my legs, he lifts me up and carries me into the adjoining bathroom, before sitting me on the toilet. As I begin to urinate, I almost jump off the toilet. The burning sensation is so bad, it’s as though I’m pouring alcohol onto an open wound.
“Ah yes, you can feel where I have been inside you, can’t you, Angie.”
Not wanting to make him any angrier, I reply, “Yes Dylan.” It’s not him I’m feeling inside of me. It’s his damn weapon of choice.
After I have finished relieving myself, he lifts me once more, standing me in front of the wash basin. I take a chance to look in the mirror and my reflection is horrifying. My cheek is a motley shade of purple and blue, my eye swollen. Lowering my gaze to my neck I can clearly see his handprint from his choking exercise earlier, turning a bluish hue.
He turns on the hot and cold tap and waits for the water to be warm before holding my own hands underneath the water. I allow the warmth to warm my hands, and I wish ever so much to have it wash over my body, “Dylan, will you bathe me please?” I ask, leaning back towards him, I look at our reflections in the mirror, and see his eyes meet my own.
“Now doesn’t that sound like the perfect idea”, he leans down and kisses my neck, then nips at it, before once again locking eyes with me in the mirror.
He guides me over to the bathtub and puts me in. While playing with the taps at the opposite end, he puts the plug into place and a short time later the warm water starts filling the tub. “Sit,” he commands, and I do. He wanders out of the room and comes back with some body wash. He makes no attempt to hop in the bath with me.
“Will you hop in with me?” I ask, hoping that my polite request will earn me points.
He runs a finger across my lips, before turning the water off, “no, make sure you wash yourself, I want you and your cunt clean” before standing up, and walking out the bathroom door.
I continue to stare at the door, expecting him to come back in when I’m not expecting it. After a few minutes of him not reappearing, I pick up the body wash, uncap it and pour some into my open hand, and I gingerly rub it over my body. When I look down at my body to the water, I see the water is no longer clear, but pink. I reach down to the apex of my thighs, and ever so gently touch myself. I almost reel back.
I retrieve my hand and see blood, and a coldness spreads all over my body, then going completely numb. I’m not surprised; after what he had done to me earlier with the baseball bat, I had expected it. As the cold progresses to the outer extremities of my body, a new feeling starts to bubble from inside. It begins as a warmth, my anger boiling inside, starting from my heart, pulsing out with every heartbeat further and further, stretching across my skin. The warmth settles within my soul, and I start formulating a plan. The only time that he will let his guard down at all is when he sleeps or while he is inside of me. If I can somehow be on top of him, with the bat within reach, I could maybe grab it and hit him with enough force to at least knock him out, then I could run to the phone and call for help.
As if knowing that leaving me alone was a bad idea, Dylan walks back through the door. He stops beside the bath, not commenting at all at the color of the water. He offers me his hand and I take it immediately, wanting to get on his good side as soon as possible. He pulls me out of the water.
“Thank you for the bath, Dylan”, he just nods at me. He pulls the towel from its position on the towel rack and wraps it around me, pulling me into his chest, he pushes his nose into my hair.
“It doesn’t have to be like this you know, Angie”, he whispers into my hair. I curl further into him, hoping that my willingness to be in his arms might make him comfortable. He pulls back slightly and pushes me away. “Look at me,” he demands, so I do. “I love you, Angie, you know that don’t you? I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you, and then you ran off and I couldn’t find you anywhere. Do you have any idea how badly that hurt me?” he says.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Dylan. I shouldn’t have left.’’ He nods at my statement.
“And then when I do see you again, you’re on the arm of Elliot fucking Sands, at that staff Christmas party. I couldn’t believe my luck.” He stops, squeezing my arms. Wanting to keep him talking, I interject again.
“I know, it was fate wasn’t it, Dylan?”
“Exactly, you came back to me. I just had to get you away from him. I couldn’t let him have what was mine.” He pauses. “You understand why I’m doing this, don’t you, Angie?”
Is he fucking serious? He wants to me to say what he is doing to me is okay. I want to punch him and scream at him that he is a cunt, but instead, I keep a calm outer appearance, and tell him what he wants to hear.
“Yes, Dylan, you wanted to make sure that I knew that I was yours, and only yours.” looking at his tattoo, I get an idea, I reach out and stroke his pectoral muscle, “Till death do us part.” He reaches down and takes my fingers within his own and lifts them to his mouth.
He kisses them, gently, something that shocks me. I take the win for what it is, he is starting to defrost, ever so little. It’s working, Angie, keep going. “I should be marrying you, Dylan, not Elliot, I see that now.”
