Page 97 of King of My Heart

“I can’t stand your voice anymore, Rachel,” he admits with so much disgust it breaks my heart.

I hate it too. So meek, so fake. So unlike the person my demon wants me to be. My demon is a beautiful girl, intelligent, and strong. She kills men who hurt women. She roars loudly when she does so. She’s fierce and would eliminate Conor in the blink of an eye.

But I still keep her at bay, because Rachel is scared of her demon.

I hate him so much that my heart freezes when he’s around. And yet, the way he hates me still touches me.

“Come on, get on the bed.” I watch him undo the string holding his pajamas around his hips. “This will stop once you give me my fucking kid. So why don’t you make yourself useful for once?”

With shaking hands, I undo the knot keeping my robe in place. The task is difficult with my vision blurred by tears and my hands shaking.

The slap to my face comes out of nowhere, shock keeping my mouth agape. “For fuck’s sake, why are you so slow? I told you to get on the bed!”

“I…I was just…”Taking my robe offdoesn’t even come out, another slap cutting me off.

His hand is in my hair again, and the next thing I know I’m back on the floor.

“There. You don’t want the bed? Why don’t you take the floor?”

A kick to the side.

I try to fold into a fetal position but he’s already grabbing my ankles. I twist and turn, trying not to end up on my stomach, that’s the weakest position he puts me in.

I fail.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” I cry as I feel his legs against my inner thighs. I know it’s going to happen, but the pain is just too much to take. I think I remember the pain, but every time it hurts more than the previous one. He ignores me, and I wriggle, violently kicking my legs to try and get his attention. “Conor…Conor, please…”

His hands parting my ass cheeks to get more access brings bile to my throat. “I-I’ll do it,” I sob. “P-please, Conor, don’t hurt me.”

“Shut up!” he roars. And I know why. He can’t take the guilt, can’t take the cries. Only he’s too selfish, too money and power hungry to stop his actions.

And since he doesn’t stop, my body is the one giving up. I fall limp against the floor. Become malleable, escaping the reality I’ve been forced into.

His phone rings in the background, a quiet sound at the back of my mind. Once. Twice.

Before he can take it a step further, I feel the weight of his body lifting off mine.

I don’t move, petrified. Fear runs like black ink through my body, turning my veins obsidian, making the angst bottomless.

I hear him talk to someone. I think it’s his dad. But I don’t move.

I hear him complain about something, that it’s late. But I stay still.

I understand he’s moving around, grabbing things here and there in our bedroom. But I don’t make a sound.

Be nice, and he won’t hurt you. Just do what he tells you.

I don’t know how long I stay this way, lying on my stomach on the floor, naked and scared. My eyes shut. Cold, trembling, and wondering when the pain will come.

“Get up.”

His harsh voice makes me recoil in surprise. The tip of his leather shoe nudges me.

His shoe?

I open my eyes slowly, blinking up at him and realizing he’d turned the light on. My eyes were squeezed shut so tightly I didn’t notice the change.

A roll of his eyes, a huff, and his shoe is hitting me again. I squeal like a sacrificial lamb. I hate it, but it’s impossible to control.

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