Innocent Torture

3|meeting again [I]

E B O N Y

"There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds." - Laurel K. Hamilton

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*WARNING* SCENE INCLUDES ABUSE - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*

Although I knew of the inevitable of what was bound to happen once I stepped back into that dark house, I still rushed to get back, in hopes that he wouldn't be as brutal today.

My feet took me as fast as I could up the steps to the large house, and I let out shaky breaths as I brought my hand to the doorknob and turned, praying that he would be asleep at this moment or out with another woman, to not notice how long I was out.

As I stepped into the house, stepping on my tip toes as I shuffled around the stairs and to the back where my room was, I felt safe.

Until his deep voice made the hairs on my entire body stand up.

"Don't think your going in there just yet." His grumbling voice made me shake in fear as I watched his large hand come out before me and close my already open bedroom door.

Why was it open? I always left it closed.

But that wasn't the question to ask myself at the moment as I had yet another big situation before me.

"I thought we established that curfew was at 9 right?" He walked around me, sizing me up with his hands clasped together in front of him as he knew how afraid I was and he practically ate off of it. I nodded, but remembered his rule.

"Y-Yes sir." I choked out, feeling my knees knock together and my body shake with terror of what he would do next.

"So, why are you walking into my house at, 12 in the morning?"

"I-I got caught up-" my words soon turned into gasps for air as his large hand came out and clasped around my neck from behind, and he pulled me to his chest, as his hot breath was fanning in my ear.

"Caught up? What life do you have to be caught up in other than being here when you are supposed to be?" He growled lowly into my ear, as his grip around my neck tightened with each word.

I knew there would be a visible bruise, quite visible even over the chocolate caramel of my skin.

The only sounds and answer that I could give, or atleast try to muster were the gargles that came from my throat as I tried to take in oxygen.

But couldn't.

Gales hand soon let me go and I fell to the ground, my palms fisting the ground as i breathed in dry heaves of precious air, and tried to clear the blur that was my vision.

All I saw was darkness, and I knew I couldn't let the tears fall because that would only add to my torture.

"You smell of alcohol and cigarettes. Why is that?" His questions were never to be answered straight on, and even though I had a perfectly logical explanation, I knew it would not be the right answer to him.