He smiled that knowingly smug look of a man who’d gotten his way. I wouldn’t scream unless I knew it would save me. My only objective at this point was to make it back to O’Connell. Whether I was battered, bruised, or raped, I needed to stay alive. That wouldn’t happen if I baited Frank. He was obsessed with control, and when that control was challenged or taken away from him, it sent him over the edge.
“I won’t scream,” I reassured him.
He sat back, relaxing his shoulders. “Of course, you won’t.” Standing back up, he placed the knife on the bedside table, unbuttoned his sleeves, and began rolling them up. Sitting back down again, he picked up the knife and after wiping the blood stained blade on my jeans to clean it, ran the tip up and down the inside of my forearm, perilously close to my wrist. The subtle threat wasn’t lost on me.
“If you’re taking me home, why are we here?” I asked croakily, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.
“Impatient, are you?” He chuckled.
I’d never really seen this side of Frank. His violent temper usually manifested itself in quick, angry beatings, and screaming insults, usually about what a useless slut he thought I was. This cold, calculating stranger had the luxury of time and privacy, and he was enjoying it. Personally, I’d have preferred a beating to one of his cosy chats. I kept my mouth shut, knowing his question was rhetorical.
“Before we leave, I need to be sure you won’t run again. Then we have a few loose ends to tie up so that bunch of lowlifes don’t follow you,” he explained.
I swallowed as I stupidly pointed out the obvious. “I’m twenty now, Frank. I can’t stay at home forever.”
Dropping the knife with lightning speed, he punched me in the ribs so hard I swore I heard one crack.
“You’ll leave me when I say you can leave,” he screamed, his spit raining down on my face. I wheezed and pulled against my bindings as I fought to pull the air into my damaged body.
“You know I just can’t work out whether you’re too fucking stupid to learn or you like taking a beating.”
I couldn’t answer him, even if I wanted to. I could barely breathe, let alone talk. He looked down at me with a kind of morbid curiosity as he assessed his handiwork. If I looked how I felt, I guessed that my body must be a mess of bruises and dried blood. Placing the knife down again, he wrenched my wedding and engagement rings from my finger.
I cried out, though it sounded little more than a whimper, as he stole my only connection to O’Connell.
“You won’t be needing these anymore. I’ve had the paperwork applying for your annulment since before you were stupid enough to get married.”
With that little parting gift, he left me to wallow in a pool of my own blood.
I HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG I was bound in that room. It could have been hours, it could have been days. I think I wet myself a couple of times, though I was so out of it I couldn’t really be sure. The whole room stank to high heaven so I probably fitted right in. Either Frank had drugged me or he’d hit me a LOT harder than I thought. I’d taken enough beatings to know that this didn’t feel normal. The periods between consciousness, though, were blissful. My mind ran hazily through memories of O’Connell and our time together. Before when I’d been beaten, I’d never had any of this. O’Connell had given me so many happy moments and a safe place in my mind to hide. He would never know how thankful I was for that. Frank could do whatever he wanted to my body, but he’d never be able to take that away. His increasing sense of desperation during the times I was awake told me that he knew it, too. When I next opened my eyes, beams of light shone through the moth ball holes in the curtains, and I figured it must be morning.
“I said wake up, bitch,” Franked shouted, kicking me hard with his boot in my thigh. I whimpered but opened my eyes to face him. If he stopped hitting me, I’d probably stop passing out. He paced up and down the room with his hands in his hair. Gone was the cool demeanour of a man unhurried, and in its place was a desperate, unhinged psychopath. I guessed that something happened to set him off. He was losing control again.
“Tell me you’re not going to leave again,” he told me, still pacing.
“I promise I won’t leave again,” I wheezed flatly and without meaning. Yep, that rib was definitely broken.
“I’ll fucking gut him if you do. You know that, right?” he asked, menacingly.
“I know,” I answered.
I wasn’t worried about O’Connell. He’d never get near the man I loved because I was putting a knife in Frank’s back the minute I got free. I didn’t care about going to prison. It was a price I’d happily pay to keep O’Connell safe.
“There isn’t enough time. I wanted more time than this,” Frank mumbled under his breath. I didn’t know what had upset him, but I was glad for it.
He sat back down next to me again and stared at my body. Without warning, he leant over and cupped me roughly between the legs and bit down hard on my bra covered nipple. It was so painful, and so invasive, that I cried out, which hurt my chest. I willed myself to pass out. If this sick fuck was going to rape me, then I didn’t want to remember a minute of it. Gripping my jaw roughly in his hand, he looked me straight in the eye.
“We’re finishing this when we get home,” he promised.
“FUCK. YOU,” I enunciated slowly.
Expecting another blow, it never came. He seemed a little less frantic, though. Maybe contemplating all the ways he was going to punish me later had calmed him down.
“You’ve changed,” he pointed out, before leaning over and whispering in my ear. “You have no idea how many different ways I’m going to break you until you learn to do what I say, when I say it.”
“If you think you’re turning me into my mother, you’ve got another thing coming, you sick fuck,” I wheezed but stood my ground.
If I were smart, I would have shut the fuck up. Instead, I paid for my stupidity. He didn’t hit or molest me again. He just laid his palm on my chest and pressed down. My broken rib screamed in protest.
“All you bitches are the same,” he taunted. “It’s just a case of learning how to tame you.”
I couldn’t focus on what he was saying. The pain was too excruciating to hold on anymore. With what little clarity I had left, I imagined that I was lying in O’Connell’s arms and closed my eyes. It was only as I hovered on the precipice of consciousness, that I could almost smell him and believe that he was really here.