CRAVED

SEVEN

{unedited}

Sorry for the long  delay in updates. Once I can get on top of my assignments and personal drama, you might get tired of me. No I'm messing , I usually take time writing .
🌸Thank you for reading in advance.

"Next time I'll pump you up with drugs so you don't miss all the fun."

Every time Geneva woke up, she cried for a sedative, anything to numb the pain but Marcelo made it plain clear he wanted her to go through it all without any chemical relief where her pain was concerned.

Against her sober will she  found herself crying because of the pain until sleep took over. Caught glimpse the first time what  the appearance of her inked skin looked like and shut her eyes so tight. The biggest lump of a sob stuck in her throat.

Angry,  hurt and in pain. It was proving an insoluble tablet to swallow.

There was no being immune to what Marcelo had done.

Last time  sex might have temporarily helped distracted how she felt when he had drowned her but this time she felt worse. Cast in mud with only her to fend for herself.

Being violated and tortured was something she had never experienced. It was  harrowing and nearly un bearing  to the point she didn't want to get up.

Not only did he leave her physically wounded, she was well aware the injury  extended somewhere within. Somewhere not physical.

But she  reminded herself she was strong and not incapacitate in all the three aspects concerning life. Only able to remind herself so after many hours of tears, pain and acceptance to what had been done to her.

It was one of the hardest things to do. Get her emotions in line with her thoughts so as not to conform.

Took her more than twenty four hours to do so. Each hour somber like the former. It was difficult to take a step forward. Feelings of bleakness  cycling in rotation nearly  giving no room for any other.

Until she  repeated it over and and over like a chant in her mind she wasn't going to accept  fate forced onto her by Marcelo. She was not. Even though the  feeling of emotional heaviness persisted of sort, she was willing to carry it regardless. What he had done do to her had a name and she knew it's term, had to accept it had happened to her and that was that.

It wasn't right nor was it okay but she wasn't going to search for an apology. She didn't need one because it was obvious she knew she wouldn't receive one and she wasn't going to sniff for one either.

She knew her reasoning was turning into one of  hatefulness mixed with pride. Thing was even if she unreasonably stuck her nose up into the air, she was the one hurt and injured. It was easer thinking all that in her head. Make herself feel better somewhat but the pain in and tattoo on her leg was a sharp slap of reminder what reality was and she was back to setting her emotions in track with sensible thoughts.

The first  day from the incident was the complete worst for her. Her  pain to the roof she fell in and out of consciousness with irregular patten save for her tears that were a constant.

Her feet had recovered the fastest. Able to walk on them after a short duration of them being treated by the female physician who she didn't bother communicating with unless talked to. In fear she'd  tell her bad news about her thigh.

The thigh that had a tattooed drawing curved  around  the bullet  wound and burn  she had received. Encircling the words: