~STORY CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT ~
Sarah Darrell always wanted a simple life. But after having an abusive childhood and teenage she came to know life is not a fairytale. Being mistreated by her stepmother and sister, she decided to leave behind her c...
"Let's finish what I started yesterday," he whispered in my ear. Before I could fully grasp what he was about to do, he shoved his fingers into me, parting the swollen tissues.
He continued to move his fingers in a relentless motion. My legs fell open shamelessly, and my body was so aroused that I was nearly flushed.
"Oh, Jesus," I gasped, my body straining towards his touch as I tightened around his thrusting fingers.
"You're so snug," Adrian said, continuing to torture me with his fingers. Just as I was about to climax, he abruptly removed his fingers and roughly pushed me onto the bed.
Leaning forward, he grabbed my face between his thumb and index finger. "Did you really think I would be pleasuring you, you slut? On the side, you're seeing another lover while here you're getting aroused by my touch," he said furiously.
Realizing what Adrian had actually done, I reacted without thinking. I kicked him hard between his legs, causing him to fall to the ground, whimpering in pain.
"Don't you dare touch me without my permission. I was talking to my friend Ester, not my lover, but I know you'll still accuse me of something I never did," I yelled at him, then ran to the bathroom and locked the door behind me.
I turned on the tap in the bathtub and sat on the ground, hugging my knees. A lump formed in my throat, and tears began to stream down my face. I heard the bedroom door shut, indicating Adrian had left the room.
Once I was sure the sound of the running water was loud enough, I began to cry loudly. Everything Adrian did triggered haunting memories from the past.
I hated myself for being so vulnerable in front of him. I hated myself for enjoying his touch. I hated myself for agreeing to this marriage, thinking that things would eventually become normal. No matter how many times I tell him the truth or offer justifications, he will always see me as a slut.
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I wiped away my tears and stepped into the bathtub, cleansing myself. An hour later, I emerged from the bathroom, clad only in bra and panties. I reached for my oversized shirt but then caught my reflection in the mirror.
My body looked different now, vastly improved from the time I'd endured the torment of my father and Lisa. Back then, my entire body was a canvas of bruises, mostly inflicted by Lisa and Chloe. Most of those marks had faded, save for one prominent bruise on my upper right thigh. But this scar bore no trace of Chloe or Lisa; it was a testament to Winston's cruelty when I was fourteen.
A flashback surfaced.
I was engrossed in homework when Uncle Winston called from outside my room. I closed my notebook and stepped into the hallway.
"Do you need something?" I asked politely, offering a smile.
"Yes, Sarah. Could you please come to my room and help me carry some books to the library?" he requested.
I nodded and made my way to the guest room where he was staying. As I reached for a book on the table and turned to leave, Uncle Winston pulled me onto his lap.
"You're so sweet, Sarah, always helping others," he said, tucking my hair behind my ears.
"Thank you, Uncle," I replied. Soon, his hands began to wander, touching me inappropriately in places I'd never experienced before. Overwhelmed, I didn't know how to react.
I tried to slip from his grasp, but he pulled me back onto his lap.
"I need to finish my homework, Uncle," I insisted, struggling to escape.
"You've grown so beautiful and sexy, Sarah," he murmured, his hands sliding under my skirt. I tried to fend him off, but he persisted, his hands creeping higher. Slowly, they reached towards my private area.
"Stay away!" I shouted, pushing him with all my might. I tried to flee, but he grabbed my hair, pulling me to the floor.
"You bitch! How dare you defy me? I'll teach you a lesson!" he raged, slapping me hard across the face. He pinned my hands above my head and pulled a sharp knife from his pocket. I opened my mouth to scream, but he covered it with his hand. He plunged the knife into my exposed thigh, and blood began to seep from the wound. Ignoring my cries of pain, he deepened the cut.
My body trembled uncontrollably from the pain. As I writhed, he laughed cruelly. "This is what happens when you disrespect me, you slut," he sneered, pressing the knife deeper. I felt it moving towards my private area. Desperate, I struggled to break free, but with each attempt, the pain intensified.
Suddenly, I heard Dad calling my name from outside. Winston released me and stood up. I seized the opportunity to escape, rushing to my room and locking the door behind me. Ignoring the searing pain, I sobbed uncontrollably.
"I wish Mom were here," I cried, curled up on the floor. After a while, I forced myself to stand and clean the wound, but the bleeding wouldn't stop. I found a bandage and wrapped it tightly around my thigh.
From that day on, I avoided Winston whenever possible. If he stayed overnight, I barricaded myself in my room. The trauma of that night haunted me, and I spent sleepless nights with a knife by my side, fearing another attack.
Even now, years later, the scar serves as a painful reminder. Time had dulled the memory, but Adrian's actions had brought it all flooding back.
Yet, I refused to be a victim anymore. I couldn't let the past or Adrian define me. I was stronger than that.
