Chapter 1

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Hey you! ♡

Welcome to the fiendishly heated world of "Burn for you". This story is created via RPG on another platform and is additionally published here to share with enthusiastic, hungry readers. Have fun!

Disclaimer: I'm not a native english speaker, so I'm sorry for any mistakes or weird phrases. But I'm always open to improving myself.

Trigger Warning: Violence, Blood, Abuse, Car Crash


I haven't killed him. Have I?

No.

No, he had been breathing, writhing on the paneled wooden floor of the living room.

Elijah was alive.

But he bled when I had run off in a panic to grab the car keys to the gray Volvo in the driveway. He owned it, only occasionally allowing me to drive it to keep up the appearance that we had an equal, harmonious marriage. But this marriage was far from fulfilling and civilized, as my husband went out of his way to make my life hell behind the closed doors of our home. For every minute away from those four walls and out of his reach, I was grateful.

These moments did not occur often. I didn't have a job, had I never completed any training or college, which increased my dependence on my husband. Instead, it was my duty to help him with his work. Elijah was the pastor here at St. Johns, a high ranked, respected member of the community, and as his wife, that tied me equally tightly to our society. If he held sermons or conducted Bible readings, my responsibility was to the church treasury, which, because of the congregation's unspoken rule that each member must contribute at least ten percent of his income to the house of worship, was always bulging.

Their Christian faith, the bond to God, was the central focus of the universe for all Mormons. The highest good around which their entire lives revolved.

For me too. At least until now.

Running out of the house in just a sleeveless, calf-length nightgown, fleeing without any real idea of where my bare feet might take me, seemed an almost unthinkable proposition until a few hours ago. Although an escape from my husband's clutches had been burning in me for years, similar to Eva's desire to taste from the tree of knowledge.

I had excused myself to bed, but I could only make it to the door. Elijah's fingers gripped the cream-colored fabric of my dress so tightly that the hem tore. What was going on inside him I never knew, and I had long ago stopped trying to fathom his inner being. His putrid depravity would infect me otherwise.

His tongue forced its way into my mouth, taking away my breath until I gagged. Fear wrapped around my throat, constricting the graceful neck. Every time I tried to escape his grip, resisted, but even now his fingers pressed roughly into the flesh of my upper arm. Fresh blue marks would join the others. I had never possessed a survival instinct, at least I assumed I hadn't, I was basically too scared and submitted to Elijah willingly. But I was wrong. Unsuspecting, adrenaline seized my body, surged through it like a warrior stepping onto the battlefield in impending defeat and leading his troops to victory with the decisive blow. Grasping this triumph with my hands, I smashed the blue flowerpot against my husband's skull. The white daisies disintegrated into their component parts, like autumnal treetops in a gust of wind.

My departure certainly did not go undetected by the surrounding neighbors. Here in St. Johns, even the garden gnomes had ears. Everyone said we were happy and had a storybook relationship they raved about.

Oh, Adina. You must be bursting with honor to have a husband like him.

Yes, most women envied me for having such a handsome match. My husband was without question a desirable representative of the male sex, who had lured me straight into the trap with his charismatic smile, rich ebony hair and eyes that reminded one of luminous powder of emeralds and sapphires. During the courtship, he was considerate and tender, I had barely been able to comprehend my own happiness. But as soon as he bound me to him with that sparkling promise of a ring, he revealed his true nature.

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