Chapter Thirty-One

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[ ∆ Warning ∆ ]

The following chapter features minor violence and attempted assault. Caution is advised if you’re under 13 of age, affected by PTSD, or are sensitive to these aforementioned topics.


You wake up to a hand against your mouth and another pinning you firm in place.

Still groggy with sleep, it takes awhile for the gravity of the situation to fall upon you, even more so when the attacker is a familiar face. Jessie’s standing on top of you, eyes wild and wide with anger as their fingers dig deep into your skin, nails piercing through. They let go of the hand over your mouth only to mash their lips against yours when you try to get a word in what they’re doing. You struggle to break free, repulsion manifesting quickly by the way your stomach churns at the feeling of their mouth on yours.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?!” you shout once you’re free, pushing them away by grabbing their forehead and shoving them back, teeth smacking with theirs when you break the kiss. You hiss at the pain but gain the upper hand when they fall and hit the bed with their back, though it’s only temporary. Jessie stands up almost instantly and corners you in place again.

“You’re ruining everything!” they exclaim, wiping blood away from their mouth. You don’t notice you cut their lip earlier until they start bleeding, a short trail tracing all the way down to their chin. “Haven’t you seen the news? Your little friendship parade with those monsters is all over the papers, and people won’t shut up about the trail -- I'm the bad one now thanks to you!”

“Let me go,” you demand, not daring to make a move in case your energy was deemed necessary for an escape route. Your eyes bounce from the locked door of your room to the curtained window just a few steps away from the bed. “I know I should’ve discussed with you what I wanted to do when we were married, but I wasn’t the one who took Faust away. And I wasn’t the one who attacked y-”

You’re silenced by their hand letting go of your shoulder to grab hold of your chin. They crane your neck up to make you look at them, unaffected when they see you scowl at the force of that action. “I made a big mistake, too, (Y/N). I would’ve never let you divorce me if I knew, and maybe then we wouldn’t be stuck in this mess. I’ve received nothing but backlash since I made it into prison, and all for what? It’s not like I threatened you with a knife -- You had your chance to fight back!”

“I tried to-”

“Shut up. I’m the one talking now.” They pull your chin higher and bring you closer, a wide, complacent grin marking their face. “Would you believe me if I said I still love you? I can’t believe it myself, but you're still nice to look at. You’ve still got your charm, (Y/N) -- pajamas and all.”

“I thought you moved on,” you object, pulling the bedsheets over yourself when you notice Jessie’s eyes linger a little too much on your body. It doesn’t help when you see the traces of blood on their lip, reminding you of how they chose to silence you the first time. “You told me you found someone else back when Faust started school.”

“I did, but I got tired after a while -- It’s just not the same.”

Your mind is close to collapsing with how much tension it’s set under. You try to stand up and push them away, yet they keep you from doing so by digging their fingers harder against your skin. They keep you still and refuse to back off, no matter how soft with melancholy their expression turns after they say those words. Cornered, you try to keep some degree of calm and brace yourself to fight back, planning out your first attack.

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