My Only Love [PG13+] *EDITING*

Prologue

PROLOGUE: 

“Come on baby, don’t make me wait!” he growled. I could feel the hair on my arms raise from the sound of his voice. He enjoyed my shaking body. Enjoyed  to see me in pain.

“I’m coming!” I choke out, if I talked properly without stuttering—without mumbling, he might not hurt me tonight. He might go easier on me tonight.

I heard a laughter erupt from the kitchen and a bigger growl. Oh I hope they don’t mess up the kitchen. Last night he got in a brawl there and broke all the glassware. My fingers had big cuts from the line because he refused to get a broom. Said I needed to build up character.

“Elle! Hurry up, cupcake, my friend’s and I need entertainment!” Oh no… he wouldn’t go easy on me today. I knew that now. I felt the tears begin to form in my eyes and I quickly wiped them away before he saw them. I tried to tug the short dress down. God, I felt like hypothermia was forming in my legs and arms. My throat was dry and I hadn’t really eaten in days because he locked up the pantry.

When I finished with the lemonade and cakes I put them in the tray, careful not to drop it and wincing as I saw my battered arms. There were scratches and bruises around them. My body was disgusting. I was disgusting.

“Baby, you took forever. I hate it when you take forever, you know that?” he asked, I could see his anger start to well up. The wolf in him was taking over and I was almost sure they’d pound me again, sharing me around and then beat me up and lock me in the basement.

I whimpered as he pulled me towards him, sitting me on his lap. I could feel his erection on my hip and it disgusted me. He began to nibble on my ear and down my neck, using his arms he cupped my breasts. His friends grinned, eager to know they had me for the night too.

I hated this. I hated my life. I hated what he did to me. He claimed me already—said I was his. Forcefully made me his mate.

“Baby, you wanna go upstairs for me?” he asked, and I knew immediately what he meant. He thought it was right that I did what he told me to do.  I stood up and felt all their gazes on my butt. I was surprised I wasn’t pregnant yet with all the things I did. Maybe I got pregnant—then my body would reject their disgusting offspring.

It did happen once—I skipped period and told him that maybe I was pregnant. He pushed me down the stairs and I broke my ribs. Sure, I healed faster than most—what, with my lineage but it still hurt. The stain of the blood was still on the ground. He released me from room and growled at me, telling me I was his. I had to agree because he thrust himself inside me, harder and harder every time I didn’t answer.

When I was upstairs, I looked at me. My ribs hurt and my spine felt…wrong. I had bruises in between my legs, on my arms. Everywhere. I had one single bite on my neck from the night that he claimed me. Nothing changed since then, he still forced me. Hurt me.

“Baby, get on the bed.” He said, and I did. He hated it when I undressed myself. He said he liked to be the one who took my clothes off. One time, I asked him why he liked to hurt me. He liked the question and didn’t hurt me, he just told me that he liked to know that I was his alone—that my body was his alone.

My soul was further away.

He started to lick me and I knew I had to force myself to climax or else he’d hurt me more. Maybe this would be good, then I would die. But I couldn’t afford that—if I died, he’d look for another victim, to rape and break. No one deserved that. I was broken enough already, so why refuse him more than I already had?

“Baby, get wet for me.” he said, and I tried, eventually his tongue moved to my belly button, then to my breasts. He squeezed my breasts hard—he always did and I always wanted to tell him to stop—maybe they’d come off. He liked the way I looked when I wore the dresses he bought me. They were strippers clothes and he’d gotten me used to wearing them. “It’s time—I can’t take all the fun can I?”

I whimpered, then he stepped back and slapped me across the face. Maybe I whimpered too loudly. He hated it when I made sounds. I had to fake the orgasms he thought he gave me. He never let me touch him, never me put my hands on him. He had to have the power over me.

“It hurts.” I say to him, even if I know he’ll hurt me again. It never surprises me that the things I say don’t matter to the heartless bastard. In fact, right now, I felt  a goal rise up my throat. He stuck his fat tongue inside my mouth and I bit it, tasting the blood in his mouth.

He pushed me to the bed harder and fell back on the ground with the force. “You little bitch!” he screamed and came to rush me. I knew I shouldn’t have fought him, if I didn’t then he wouldn’t hurt me. But I wouldn’t let him hurt me or anyone else.

I looked around the room and found an vase full of dead flowers. I picked them last year and he let them stay in the room, dead because like the flowers, he wanted me to die in the house. Die for him. He thought I loved him but I could never love a sick monster.

I picked up the vase and hit it to the ground before I felt him pull back my hair. I screamed from the pain and I he pushed me to the floor, kicking my stomach whilst he was at it. It hurt. I used my elbows to prop myself up and move to the broken glass.

He was faster, he pinned me back on the ground, taking advantage of the fact that I wasn’t wearing underwear and he was a horny bastard. He had both arms on my wrists and he thrust himself inside me, his erection told me this was my chance.

I let out a strong moan and he laughed hard. He liked it when I enjoyed the painful sex. Enjoyed it even more when the moan was more a moan of paint than pleasure. He thrust himself on me again and again, moving my body closer towards the glass.

Finally, I was close enough. I reached towards a jagged piece of glass and stabbed his neck with it. I stabbed him again and again even as he tried to fight me. The blood was warm on my body, I got off, leaving him half naked holding his neck while he bled.

I grabbed money that he stashed inside the side table—they were all hundreds so I took all the rolls. There might have been sixty or more in it. I grabbed some cards threw it in a bag. I heard the footsteps and he didn’t talk—he could barely croak. I saw something bulging on his pants and found a gun. I was a wolf but that didn’t mean that I didn’t need to defend myself either. I grabbed it and got out of the window.

I ran out like I was running from hell. I never turned back. 

***
I'm so sorry if I've offended you in some way because of the language and the things that happen to Gabrielle! It sucks that she has to go through all that and I hate to have to put a character through disgusting drama but I had to! Please continue to give it a chance as I promise that it will get better!
x - Hilda
P.S. Please vote/fan/comment! x