Page 94 of Inevitable Destruction

My head thuds against the wood as I arch my neck, hissing as the fresh burn stretches with my skin. Gooseflesh prickles my skin, and I shiver involuntarily. My body begins to twitch, and I press my tongue to the front of my teeth and suck, waiting for what comes next.

Sure enough, the twitches turn to full body shivers as a cold front pushes through the heat migrating through. It’s a never-ending back and forth between the two, and each one is as intense as the last.

Standing on unsteady feet, I wrap my arms around my middle, berating myself for only wearing sweatpants even though two hours ago, I was sweating out of my clothes. My nipples are pebbled, brushing against my forearms as I tighten my self-made hold to keep some of the heat inside of me.

My eyes catch on the bruises smattered across my flesh—some faint with yellow-green bruising, and others fresh and purple. I look like I’ve been put through a battering ram with Rhett’s abuse coupled with my own.

Shaking off that thought, I push my curls out of my eyes and search for the hoodie I came here in. I’ve been here almost two weeks, and yet, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve even bothered to step outside of Rhett’s bedroom, so I have no clue where any of my own clothes are.

I glance around the living room, and coming up empty, I move to the small closet beside the door where I’ve seen him put his leather jacket on the rare occasion I’d be waiting for him by the door, like a fucking dog waiting for his treat.

God, I’m pathetic.

I ignore the smell of him that wafts through the air as I rifle through his closet. As I finger through the jackets, the scratch of the metal hangers gliding across the bar they’re hanging on infiltrates the stale air. I yank open the drawers at the bottom and dig through them before slamming them shut with an aggressive push when I come up empty.

Deciding to give up and just go back to fucking bed, something on the shelf above the jackets catches my eye. I still and squint, backing up.

The further away I get, the more I see. Silver then black come into view in the shape of a metal box—pushed all the way in the back corner on the shelf, almost out of sight, but the light above reflects off the silver, which is what caught my eye.

Thoughts of my hoodie completely abandoned, I grab the box off the shelf and bring it to the coffee table in the living room. Taking a seat on the couch, my eyes flicker down to the table in front of me. I grasp the lid and pull it open, the hinges creaking. The first thing I see is crinkled, and what looks to be slightly dated, newspapers.

My eyes un-focus, and everything in front of me blurs. Blood whooshes in my ears, and the silence whizzing past my ears increases in volume until the sound is high-pitched and making my temples throb.

My body grows numb the longer I’m zoned out, and by the time my eyes regain their focus, I’m no longer looking at the box in front of me, but instead the leg of the coffee table and the carpet it’s pressed into.

My mind wanders, and all I see is Rhett shoving my face into the carpet as he fucks into me, hard and so fucking deep. My body aches in pain from how wide he stretches me, then drills ruthlessly, his head brutalizing my prostate with every punch of his hips against my ass.

My dick tents in my sweatpants, pulsing and smearing the cotton with precum. I look down at myself, seeing a wet spot on the outside from how badly I’m leaking at just the thought of him.

A whimper escapes my throat as I cup my erection and squeeze, trying to ease the ache…

“Fuck,” I whisper breathlessly as I free my erection and swiftly pump myself, reveling in the heat centered in my groin. My hand works fast and ferociously as my peak rapidly approaches.

With my eyes locked on my swollen, slick head slipping through the tight clasp of my fingers, I watch as precum oozes out of my slit and disappears between my glistening fingers, adding much-needed lubrication.

As my balls throb, drawing up close to my body, ready to release, my jaw falls slack. When my eyes begin to droop, my mind blank of everything but blissful rapture, my hazy gaze lands on an unexpected, familiar face.

My entire body locks up on instinct, and my boner deflates like a popped balloon. I drop my hand and yank my sweatpants up above my hips, all the while my eyes never leave the coffee table in front of me.

I stare forward in shocked disbelief and confusion. Lots of fucking confusion swirls around in my not-so-empty-anymore head.

A face eerily similar to mine stares back at me, only with hazel eyes—but that’s because the photo is in black and white. His black, wavy hair is pushed to the side, and his permanent, slight scowl is etched perfectly on his lips.

Neurons rapid-fire in my head, shooting signals so fast, my stagnant brain can’t keep up. My brows tug together as I lean forward and grab the newspaper from its resting position atop the rest inside of the box.

I blanch when the rest of the familiar article comes into view.

Mom’s face appears next to Dad’s along with a full page of “what happened” according to witnesses and a few police officers who were first on the scene. My eyes trail over the words I once had memorized, and my gut clenches as if I’m reliving it all over again.

That was the first thing that caught my eye—all the blood.

Blood dripping down the white walls in long rivulets before absorbing into the cream-colored carpet.

Blood splattered across the headboard, and the walls, and the…

“Fuck,” I grumble just as vomit spews up my throat and out of my nose. I cough and retch as bile scorches my throat and nostrils, slowly trickling out, the acid burning my skin. I let my head hang off the armrest of the couch, forcing breaths through my mouth as I relive the worst moment of my life.

Wide, panic stricken eyes stare up at the ceiling, at nothing, because they were frozen in time.

---