𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎(𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚃𝙰𝚁)

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝖙𝖜𝖔

"Don't call him that," I defended.

"Don't tell me what to do," he cautioned. I froze, seeing a familiar fire in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I just—" I began. "It's not a nice thing to say."

"Since when do you care about being nice?"

"You don't know me," I scoffed, sitting down across from him.

"I owned you," he reminded me. "For six years, you were mine. And there were times when you opened up to me."

"You manipulated me. I was a little girl, I didn't understand. You would hurt me, then you would comfort me. It was confusing. I cried to you and I opened up to you because I had no one else. You would pretend to care, then hurt me again."

     I remembered hating him so much as a child. But being so emotionally attached. He pretended to care about me at times. That was something I craved.

     He'd beat me bloody, then hold me and comfort me while he dressed my wounds. I'd grown so reliant on that softer side of him. That was his tactic. He did it on purpose.

"I know things about you that you've likely never told another soul," he said. "I know you hate your mother. You resent her for caring more about your brother's safety than your own."

"Stop," I begged him. He smiled, knowing that he had gotten into my head.

"I was in my study before dinner," he informed me. I tried not to freeze. Tried not to give myself away.

"Oh?" I asked as confidently as I could.

"Yes," he confirmed. "It seems something has gone missing."

"And what would that be?" I questioned, the metal of the dagger digging into my side.

"Don't play dumb with me," he warned. "You and I are the only ones in this house."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I denied.

"Hand over the dagger," he commanded. I stared at him, unflinching.

"What?"

"You thought I didn't know?" he asked, smirking as he stood up. "I put the dagger in there on purpose, knowing you were cleaning the study today. It was a test. You failed."

"That's not fair," I whispered, flinching away from him as he stroked my cheek.

"Where is it?" he wondered.

"Under our mattress," I lied.

"Were you planning on stabbing me in my sleep?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Please—" I began.

       He cut me off, turning his entire body, his fist smacking into my eye. I yelled out from the pain.

      He grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me to the ground. He kicked me in the face so hard, I felt a crack in my nose. I cried out as blood spurted from it.

       He gripped me by my hair, picking me up and slamming my head against my empty plate, shattering it. He slammed my face into the broken glass three times.

      I groaned, feeling him flip me around. He held me against the table by my throat, winding up his fist. He punched me again, this time on the cheekbone, then yanked me up to him.

"Stop it—" I managed, tears streaming down my face.

"Don't fight," he insisted. "We're just having fun."

     He threw me to the ground, climbing on top of me. I pleaded for him to stop. He didn't listen. His hands and his mouth were everywhere.

      I remembered something Cassian had taught me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and turned my entire body, throwing him off balance and flipping around so I was on top of him.