"I'm not a bad person."
"Yes you are, Troy. You are also more than that. You are a monster."
Everyone thought Troy was a monster. Even as a child. Davina felt the need to protect the broken. That was no different when she met Troy Otto.
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I could see in Willy's eyes that he was still pissed about earlier and he was out for blood. I braced myself for what was about to ensue. He landed a few punches to my face and torso before pulling out a large blade. It looked to be some sort of hunting knife. It had a dark brown hilt with some sort of engraving on it. It looked sharp.
Honestly, if I had to choose, I'd rather be cut with a sharp knife than a dull one. It hurts more if it is dull, because more pressure must be applied.
As he pulled it from the sheath on his hip, he stopped for a moment and looked at his reflection in the blade. He once again smiled that sickening smile before using the blade to slash my upper arm. The cut was about 3 inches long, but not very deep. It still bled a significant amount.
"Remember our talk earlier about my desire to slash your throat? God how will I resist?" He let out a maniacal laugh as he dragged the blade across the skin of my neck.
He didn't use enough pressure to draw blood, but it did leave a red line on top of the bruise that had already begun to form from his grip from earlier. Instead of giving the maniac the pleasure of looking into my eyes as he hurt me, I shut them and relaxed my body. He then took the knife and dragged it on top of my collar bone, this time drawing blood. My breathing hitched slightly, and he sensed that.
"Oh, am I hurting you, princess?"
I let out no reaction. The absence of an answer made him angrier and I felt his fist come down on me once again. Alternating between punching me in the face and the ribs, hard enough to fracture my ribs at the very least.
"What about now, princess? Are you in pain now?"
He then used the blade to tear my tank top, exposing my bra and stomach. He dragged the blade across my fractured ribs on the left and again across my stomach to the right of my belly button.
He stepped back to look at his work.
"For a half breed you have a bangin' body." In response, I spit on his uniform. He then used the knife to slash me across the face. I felt the blade draw blood from the hairline by my ear to the middle of my cheek, right across my cheekbone.
Once he was done carving me up, he grabbed me by the throat once again, squeezing until all of the air was out of my lungs. He got so close to me I could feel his hot breath on my neck and he whispered, "You will respect me, or this is what you have to look forward to for the rest of your pathetic life, half breed."
And with that last sentiment he walked out the room, locking the door behind him.
I waited until he was gone to take in a deep breath, coughing slightly as I did. Tears escaped my eyes as I assessed the damage done. There were large cuts all over my body. My arms, thighs, stomach, hips, chest, face. I was covered in sweat and bleeding all over the place. Small pools of blood surrounded the chair I was sitting in and as they increased in size, a small stream of each connected in the center leading to a small shower drain underneath my chair. My body ached as bruises were already beginning to form.
