Taking What's His

Chapter 10

Trigger Warning: Mentions of sexual assault. Please do not read if such topics make you uncomfortable.

Rousing consciousness slowly made me aware of each ache and stinging sensation that covered my body. My entire form sore, a bone deep kind of pain that made me wish I hadn't woken yet.

My eyes stung as I forced them open, the bright light filtering in through the window irritating my sensitive eyes terribly.

"You're up." A deep voice said, making me tense up. My heart set off in my chest even as I remained immobile, flashes of glowing red eyes, restraining hands and sharp canines returning to me from last night. The fact that I wore nothing but panties beneath the blanket that was draped over me only making me feel more vulnerable.

He sat at the foot of the bed, watching me with those eyes that had been hungry and lusty even as I wept beneath him, now filled with remorse. A wave of helplessness so overpowering washed over me that it had my hands trembling. Despite what had happened last night here I was waking to my captor, locked away in a home with him with no one to protect me, no one to tell, no one to stop him if he chose to finish what he started last night.

His straight nose twitched slightly before he lowered his eyes to the blanket around me, suddenly unable to meet my gaze.

"I'll uh- get you some breakfast." He said, looking hesitant to leave but rising up from the bed nonetheless.

As soon as the door was closed after him I swung off the blanket, forcing myself to get up out of the bed. My legs and feet ached as though I'd run a marathon without any preparation, and though I had no idea how much distance I had covered on foot last night, there was no way I had been in the shape to go that far. The soles of my feet hurt so much I almost wanted to collapse back into bed just to keep them from touching the floor, but I wanted to be dressed when he returned more than I cared to not be in pain.

My stiff legs forced me to limp all the way to the closet, grabbing the first couple articles of clothing I could get my hands on and then making my way to the washroom, closing the door after me.

I had only just set the clothing on the counter when I caught sight of my reflection. Hysteria bubbling up within me at the horrific sight. A sharp inhale of breath catching in my throat. 

My eyes were bloodshot and puffy, bottom lip torn and starting to scab, a streak of dried blood crusted against my chin. My entire body was littered with bruises, my shaking hands hovered above them, no space for me to be able to rest a hand without touching a bruise. Neck covered in painful looking hickeys, the skin as red as it was purple looking as though just a feather light touch would make them bleed.

My chest was no better, hickeys and bite marks littered my breasts, all over my collarbone and chest, four angry red lines from where his claws had torn my skin as he hauled me out of that taxi going right up the centre. Hand marks imprinted on the skin of my hips and waist, varying shades of blue yellow and purple. My thighs colored with marks, fingerprints all along the inside of them. My wrists an angry mix of red and purple where his handprint was etched into the swollen skin.

My legs gave out under me and I slumped down to the cold bathroom floor. Sore eyes welling up with tears though my body felt as though someone had wrung out all the moisture. I stared blankly at the dark cabinets in my line of sight, grateful to be unable to see my reflection.

Everything that had happened last night was etched into my brain, the pain, the terror, the desperation, and yet there was something about seeing the evidence of what had taken place that solidified it, made it undeniable. You couldn't run from something you carried with you on your very being, it would take days for these wounds to heal.