Book of BxB One Shots

Save Me From The Monster

**A/N: This is currently in my, "To be continued," group, so don't worry, there will be more (that is, if you like this. If you don't, then check out one of my other stories or send me a request).

[WARNING] Mild course language and mature themes. Rated PG-13. If you are uncomfortable (I mean, extremely uncomfortable) with rape, abuse, and suicidal thoughts, then you might want to skip this one.

Copyright © 2014 by Gracilyn

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Sometimes I wondered if God existed, if He's looking down on me right now, but then I'd remember that there is no God, there is only hell on earth. 

I've often wondered how it would feel to die. Would it be fast and painless? Or would it be slow and agonizing? Would I be aware of what was happening or oblivious? I'd think about the different ways I could die. I might slit my wrists, overdose on pain relievers, hang myself...Maybe I'd be more cliché and jump from a bridge, the black water quickly sweeping me away and drowning me in its currents. There's always a message suicide, where I'd plummet to my death from the rooftop of my high school. There's so many choices, yet there was still that little part of me that questioned what could happen if I stayed living and where I'd go if I was dead. Was there really a heaven? And if so, would I be accepted in? If there was such a thing as an afterlife, I think God would send me to hell. I mean, I'm gay and the sins I've committed...well, technically my uncle committed them for me, but still.

A resonating bang came from my bedroom door, notifying me of the Monster's presence. His gruff voice shouted through the door, livid with anger and littered in curse words. I sat up and leaned my back against my headboard, drawing my knees close to my chest. Another loud bang, this one followed by a threat. I whimpered, pulling my comforter closer in hopes of protection. Why couldn't he leave me alone for one night? 

"Ajax, open this fucking door! So help me you little shit, if you don't open this door I swear to God, I'll whip you so hard you won't be able to move for a week," he growled, slamming his fist into the wood repeatedly.

Knowing he would keep to his promise, I cautiously stood up from the bed, my comforter held tightly around my body, and walked towards the banging. With a twist, I unlocked the lock that came with the doorknob, and quickly stepped out of the way as the door flew open. I wasn't surprised when his big beefy hand wrapped around my skinny neck and held me against the wall. No, that I was use to. What shocked me was the multiple punches to the face. Never had he hit me in a spot that could be easily seen by other people, usually he was careful to leave marks in places I could simply hide them, like the arms and legs. His favourite spots to hit me was the torso and crotch. My back was a battle ground of scars, my butt an almost permanent red colour, and the carving he had made on my hip last week was still in the process of heeling. 

He gripped my hair in his fist, bringing my face so close to his that I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Oh great, a drunk Uncle Dave was even worse than a sober one. At least when he's sober he knew when to walk away, but when he's drunk...

He threw me on the bed and began ripping off my pyjama bottoms and old white t-shirt. I bit my lip to keep from crying as he pushed me face down into the mattress and straddled my legs. The pain, no matter how many nights he would come into my room and rape me, was a hot, pulsating agony that spread from my butt to my head. It traveled up my spine, making me feel as if I was being split in half. Technically, I was. Without prepping or lubricant, he pounded into me mercilessly. The force of his trusts drove my head into the pillow I kept against the headboard so that I wouldn't bang my head on it every time the Monster trust into me. Again.