𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 - 01

The intense pain radiated through my body as another slap landed on my cheek, sending my head crashing into the unforgiving headboard.

"S-sorry!" I stammered, my voice trembling with fear and desperation.

"But I didn't call him," I protested weakly, grasping for any semblance of reasoning.

They say that when you're subjected to torture to such an extent, when your breaking point is reached, you can't feel the pain anymore.

You start to find solace in the agony, hoping for that moment of release.

I longed for that breaking point to hit me, to free me from this relentless torment.

But each time, his methods of torture changed, pushing me beyond the limits of what my body could endure.

My head throbbed with pain, a sharp ache pulsating through my skull.

I could feel the warmth of blood trickling down my cheeks, the metallic tang of it staining my lips. With each drop, my icy skin was bathed in a newfound warmth.

My vision blurred, darkness encroaching from the edges as my head spun.

He left me there, alone and vulnerable. Why? Was this a prelude to something even more sinister? Lying on the cold floor, a shiver ran through me.

My eyes brimmed with tears, each droplet scalding as it trailed down my cheeks, adding to the wetness already there. The weight of it all pressed down on me, and I couldn't hold back the sobs that wracked my body.

"I n..eed to end this......" I murmured to myself, the words barely audible as I fought to regain consciousness.

As the darkness enveloped me, a sense of finality washed over my weary soul....

"Yes, this is the end," I murmured, my voice hollow, as I stepped out of the car I had been driving.

The world seemed distant, muffled, as if I were underwater, Already.

"Let's end it here," I whispered, shutting the car door quietly after parking it in a secluded spot.

I hoped he would find his car here later.

All this time, I had hoped he would believe me, that he wouldn't think I was losing my mind. But he chose to believe him--seeing me as nothing more than a spoiled child who could never change, no matter how hard he tried.

"I hate you, Samrat, for dragging me into this hell and then leaving me," I whispered, the bitterness seeping through every word.

I walked barefoot on the soft soil, the silence of the night enveloping me. Once, I despised this quietude, yearning for the noise and excitement of the world. Now, it comforted me, offering solace to my weary soul. I marveled at the beauty of the moonlight, its gentle glow casting shadows that danced across the ground.

But then, I glanced down at my body, covered in bruises and scars.

"It looks ugly," I thought, my self-esteem plummeting.

"No, I won't cry now," I told myself firmly. "Not in these final moments." Instead, I focused on the gentle breeze caressing my skin, its cool touch sending shivers down my spine.

I wore only a thin nightgown, but I refused to wrap my arms around myself. I wanted to feel the cold and embrace the harsh reality of my situation.

I continued to walk, determined to cover the half-kilometer distance ahead of me.

"Yes, I can do this," I whispered to myself, summoning the strength to move forward.

Why hadn't he believed me? I had been trying so hard to change, to become someone worthy of his affection. I had sworn to myself that I would win his approval, shedding my stubbornness and every other flaw he disliked. Slowly, I had started to develop feelings for him, seeing him through the eyes of a love-struck teenager.