Chapter 9

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Authors note:
Thanks for reading! By the way, this story will have some inaproprite content in it. Nothing graphic, but I will mention inappropriate content once or twice.

I'm so sorry If you don't want to/can't read further, I had a sudden change of plan!!

Also sorry this is a short chapter, I've been really busy! ❤💗💕

Kassie's POV

I didn't have to wait long before Harry got bored and decided to torture me again. I honestly didn't know what I had done wrong, only that I was destined to be his eternal punching bag. As he stormed into the room I was taken agast, the look in his eyes were menacing and my own eyes widened with fear at the crack of his whip. For A while we just stared at eachother and I could almost sence his thoughts somehow I'm going to kill you. Your mine. See this whip, it's going to be caked in your blood soon enough. I'm a psychopath and your dead to me. Your dead, your dead, your dead.

I continually imagined him slaughtering me in cold blood. Or I could just do it myself.

My suicidal thoughts were stronger than my one's to survive.

It will only take a second.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I could see his eyes darting to the silver key reflecting in the small amount of sunlight. I had forgotten to conceal it in my pocket. I instantly knew this was a big mistake.

"What is that?" He asked smoothly, I was surprised at his tone of voice because I was 100% sure he knew exactly what it was.

I didn't reply, I was mislead by my thoughts thinking that it was a rhetorical question.

"I SAID WHAT IS THIS?!" He barked, he suddenly snatched the key from it's position on the floor and gracefully placed it in his pocket. He sighted before grabbing the collar around my neck and muttering something. I squirmed in discomfort. I tried to free myself from his iron grasp, my breathing suddenly got worse and I'm pretty sure he broke two if not three of my ribs whilst punching me. With each blow he delivered I screamed and begged for death, I shouted for help and tried everything possible for him to stop, which probally made him angrier, but I was willing to do anything to get out of here.

He left me slumped on the floor, defeated and broken. I really didnt know anymore wether i was kept around to be tourchered or if he was just taking his sweet time to kill me.

That night I was half asleep and I could feel a needle peice my skin and then I blacked out.

I only realised Harry's true intentions about month later. And the truth was mortifying.

I realised that morning that I had been sedated last night and concluded that It was part of my punishment. I presumed that It would happen again tonight. I also imagined that he didn't want me making to much noise since I was so close to his room.

He sedated me some nights, I knew when he did because I would wake up drousy and disorientated. I honestly didn't know if my body could handle this much drug, and I had no idea where he got it all from. Maybe he worked as a doctor? I highly doubted my own hypothesis, didn't doctors have to have good mental health?

After what seemed like a few weeks, Harry finally allowed me to come downstairs, I was nervous, but mostly relived, I was bored out of my mind in that room, and as hungry as ever, Harry told me I was to fat for his liking, even though I had lost almost half of my weight In only a short period of time.

Harry made me clean and wash, I don't think he trusted me enough to cook for him. I honestly didn't trust myself, I would defiantly end up killing either him or myself.

Most times, I would bedownstairs washing the dishes and he would pet my head and call me his 'good little girl' or his 'sweet little kassandra' all I liked to call him was pshycho and murdered, but that was only in my head, I was forced to call him either 'sir' or 'Harry' which was pretty annoying because I was desperate to damage him emotionally like he has to me.

God, he knew how to crumple a person's self esteem into nothing.

A few days later

My daily routine consisted of barely anything, waking up, cleaning, eating if Harry felt like feeding me, sleeping. It was depressing how simple my life had become.

Occasionally Harry would sedate me at night, and on those nights I slept well. But most nights I was left alone with my thoughts, night was more depressing at day.

This is exactly what Harry wanted.

Well, that's what I thought Harry wanted.

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