1.1 | Prints and Pieces

00

| in a different place, in a different time |

SHE WAS POSITIVE that outside the windows, the dead night had grown several shades darker. And long ago. The silver moon had turned black, and all the stars plunged into hiding, glittering white dots now cloaked beneath the thick veil of midnight clouds.

As expected, all of them had fallen short, as the digress was nothing—not even an atom—in comparison to the shift in his eyes.

She had messed up. She knew she had messed up really bad.

With another forceful yank of her hair from his unrelenting grasp, she whimpered. She would rather have screamed, but she had done that already. Desperately, and repeatedly.

Still, it changed nothing. Thinking about it, she realized nothing had ever really changed.

And now, her voice was long gone.

"Y-you know how much I love you," she croaked. The pain was unimaginable, rippling through every part of her body. Like open flames gently licking at first, before erupting into scorching wildfire that only ate away at every inch, and every facet that made her up. "You know it."

"Shut up!" In a swift motion, his rough palm met her cheek in a destabilizing slap. Her head swung to the side, and she couldn't help it when she spat out the blood. There was already so much crimson everywhere; it stained her dress, her face, and of course, his hands. "Love? You don't love me! How could you? How could you fucking do it, you filthy whore!"

She figured she was crying, but the tears just didn't come out. And if they were flowing...well, she sure as hell couldn't feel them anymore.

"I'm sorry," she hiccupped. Afterwards, she sucked in a harsh breath amidst all the aching. Everything hurt—it hurt too much. "I'm sorry. B-but I swear I love you...more than anything. Now and—"

"Don't you dare!" His thundering voice cut her off. The sight of her broke his heart. She broke his heart, into a million irreparable pieces.

And it was why he was going to break her.

__________

The night grew even darker, as his body continued to tremble—as he pulled her bloodied face closer to his. The memories weren't memories just yet. They couldn't be, when it all just happened. He could see himself pulling her, ripping her white nightdress, and dragging her like a putrid animal across the room.

It all just kept on playing—like a haunting series put on indefinite repeat. And he knew deep within, that these clips would play on for the rest of his life. It didn't matter if he willingly watched, or his eyes were forcefully pegged open to see.

He was beastly; it had always been a part of him, and that much they were both aware of. But she wasn't supposed to be his prey. Not her. Even if he made the mistake a few times, it was never supposed to be her.

She was meant to be untouchable.

But now, in a single moment—she wasn't.

Her bottom lip quivered, and she groaned from the pain. He only kept moving her.