Page 12 of Worship

I cry silently, trapped in a drug haze.

Even though I never asked, Nicole often explained what men’s penises looked like, but I don’t expect Blake’s to look like this as he pulls his boxers down. It’s horrifyingly big and thick, a bulging vein throbbing angrily down the middle. It’s hard, poking upward, and the thought that he’s going to put it inside of me breaks me.

Sliding his hand down my stomach, he touches my body roughly, groping and mauling parts of me that no one has ever felt. Then he grabs himself and breathes a laugh of surprise.

“I’ve not been this hard in a long time.” He breathes out, face wrinkling with pleasure as he strokes his erection. Catching me looking, he grins. “You like?” My teeth grind together when he unexpectedly forces a finger deep inside of me, now tender from when his son did it. “So tight. You’re going to hurt me.”

Taking his finger out and smearing wetness over me, he forces my legs wider apart and rubs the tip of himself against me. Then, without warning, he’s pushing inside and splitting me open.

Pain.

It’s cutting. Intrusive.Wrong.

I can’t breathe. I can’t even think of anything but this agony.

As he pushes inside me again, my head smacks off the headboard hard, and everything goes black. My head throbs, as if my skull has been split open. “I haven’t come from a pussy in a long time. Not since Nick’s mama,” I hear him say but can’t see him, head dizzy and stomach nauseous.

But I still feel his attack, every bit of it.

What a strange sensation it is to feel yourself slipping away, only to be yanked back as scorching vomit spews past my lips. I’m choking on it, and all he does is just laugh. “Oh, no, you don’t, bitch.”

Bending me over, I vomit on the floor at the side of my bed. Once I finish emptying the contents of my stomach, Blake’s flipping me back down, and then I’m gone again. Maybe Nicolas did overdose me. Maybe I did hit my head so hard I’m dying. It makes it slightly easier to pretend this isn’t happening. It will all be over soon. He will go away, and then I can go home.

“Wake up!” He slaps me across the face. My eyes open just as he’s tugging on the end of his blood-soaked cock. Grabbing me around the throat, he drags me closer as hot semen shoots from the tip and lands all over my face. Yelling out in pleasure, he drowns me in his acid, body convulsing, and shaking.

“That’s right, baby, take it.” Lifting his hand, he rubs it into my face and hair. “You damn beautiful bitch.”

He collapses on top of me, spent breaths blowing against my neck. There I lie, a monster on top of me, heart ripped open and a virgin no more. And finally, I die. At least, that’s what I pray to happen.

Chapter Six

My door bursts open, and I wake with a start as an older nurse named Vera enters my room. “It’s time for your meeting.”

Sitting up, I rub my eyes, noticing it’s dark outside now, and I slept most of the day after Gabriella’s visit. Six o’clock only means one thing—Milton and my impending doom. I can’t seem to swallow the lump in my throat as I stand.

I was hoping I’d imagined him as I follow Vera out of my room and down the hall. When we get to the far end of the corridor, we stop beside a set of double doors that I’ve never been down before. “Keep going until you reach the end.”

She doesn’t make a move to follow as I pass to the other side. As I glance back at her, I notice she’s notlookingat me. Tired eyes avoid mine, and I think it’s on purpose.

I begin making my way down the corridor. Soft, classical music plays in the background, building up to a crescendo the closer I approach the white doors at the end. It’s an exquisite piano piece that threatens to soothe my nerves. Drop my guard.

I’d be an idiot to let it.

Finally, I enter a large room with a high ceiling and tall windows when passing through the other doors. It doesn’t feel like I’m in the same building anymore. It’s spacious in here, with black wooden floors and antique suede couches—nothing like the old, rickety furniture in the patients’ wing. The clinical smell that frequents the hallways has now been replaced with the scents of jasmine and musk.

It’s familiar and all Milton, transporting me to when I was on the back of his bike with my arms clinging to his waist—

Heels tapping on the floor snap my attention to a woman approaching me. Dressed in all black, her hair pushed back into a chiffon knot, the only thing bold about her appearance is the blood-red lipstick that coats her lips—something her thin bone structure doesn’t really suit.

“Good evening, Miss Adams,” she greets me in a British accent, like Milton’s, which only confuses me more. “If you want to take a seat, Mr. Hood will be with you shortly.”

She then exits the room before I have a chance to say anything, leaving me no choice but to sit and wait.

As the minutes tick by, my insides coil tighter. It’s not long before footsteps echo around me. Like the footsteps outside my bedroom door in the club. Those times he used to sit outside my room whenever Blake was on the road, protecting me from any other fucker who wanted what their leader had.

Heavy. Assured.

Twisting my head to glance over my shoulder, the Milton I don’t know finally rounds the corner wearing another suit—this one gray with a black waistcoat. I hate the way my body reacts. How I can hardly catch my breath as he makes his way over to me, finally reaching me.

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