Dirty Dom

18. Becca

My body falls forward. But it can't. I need to go forward; I need to block the punch that's coming, but I can't. I'm held back. My face slams against something hard, forcing my neck to whip to the side and sending a jolt of pain through my body. It hurts. It all hurts. My body is sore and my wrists and ankles are rubbed raw. It hurts so fucking much.

Slap! A hard smack to my face from the other side shoots a throbbing pain across my face. I try to move my arms, but they're tied. Ugh! I try to lean forward after another punch to my stomach. The air leaves my lungs, and my chest tightens with pain. I'm pinned by hands. Pinned back by restraints... the belt.

I'm pinned back by the seat belt. The tires screech. The car crashes forward. My body jolts forward. The metal twists and groans. The glass shatters. My mom screams. I can't see her. Only my dad. My vision focuses on the tree. Heat overwhelms my shaking body. And then nothing.

No sound. Shards of glass stick out of my trembling arm. I carefully lift it and grasp the broken glass. My shaking fingers slip, and the pain makes me moan in agony. My voice. It's the only noise. I try to move; I need to help them...

"Becca!" Who's screaming my name? They can't. They can't yell for me. "Wake up!" They never yelled for me. "Babe, wake up!" My body shakes, and I struggle to move.

My eyes slowly open. "Becca?" Dom's face is pained; his light blue eyes look so sad. I blink back the tiredness overwhelming me, and that's when I feel the pain.

"Dom." I wince. Fuck, my body hurts.

"Shit." He lays me down on the bed and crawls to the nightstand. He leans over, still on the bed and reads the back of the bottle. Yes, please. My chest fucking hurts, and these damn abrasions on my ankles and wrists sting like a bitch. I want to climb back into the bath.

"Thank you," I manage to say before opening my mouth to take the pill. He tilts the glass of water to my lips and I take it with a trembling hand. Fuck, it hurts.

"Are you alright?" he asks with a wary look. His brows are pinched together, making a deep crease in his forehead.

"I'm fine," I answer, handing the glass back.

He takes the glass and sets it on the table. "I fucking hate that you do that," he says, crawling back to lie next to me. He pulls my body into his gently. "You're not fine." He kisses my neck. "You weren't fine."

I have a vague memory of being in pain before waking up in his arms. "I still hurt, but it will take some time to heal."

"That's not what I'm talking about." His voice is hard.

"I don't understand."

"You were begging for it to stop." His voice is pained. I turn in his arms and watch as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "You kept saying 'no'." I turn back on my side with my back to his chest and stare across the room.

"It was just a dream." It's the only answer I have for him.

"It was a memory."

"What do you want from me?" I ask him with contempt. His grip on me tightens.

"I just want you to talk to me." He pulls me into his chest and kisses my neck. His tender touch makes me relax.

"I don't know what you want me to say." What can I say? They hurt me. I'm still getting over it. There. What more can I offer?

"You can't just hide from this." His voice is just barely more than a murmur.

"It's not hiding; it's moving on. That's what you do. You move on."