I, psycho.

Chapter Nine

Hello!!

Another amazing chapter for my amazing readers! I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

                                        Your Author,
                                                   Me.

WARNING ‼️‼️‼️

THERE ARE SOME PRETTY GORY AND MATURE SCENES (RAPE) THAT ARE NOT FOR THE FAINTHEARTED.
VIEWERS DISCRETION IS ADVISED‼️

I didn't even notice the lavishly decorated rooms as I floated, walked or whatever thing consciousness do to move, by. My mind was stuck to one thought, one course of action, him.

And then, finally, the door to the sitting room was in sight.

  Like a ghost, my body passed through the door and into the sitting room, beholding him, perched on a chair, looking at home with the decores and at the same time un-at home?...

Either way, he was there, right there in front of me!

And it was like breathing for the first time.

The breath I'd been holding rushed out of me in a rush, even in my shadowy body, I could feel my mind calming, my breathing regulating...

        It was like coming home.

Only home was looking me right in the eye.

For a long time, we simply stared.
Me, in shock at him being able to see this form and him in... fascination?

"We meet again" he said softly, not like he was trying not to scare me away but like he couldn't be bothered to raise his voice.

  "So we do" I whispered, my voice barely carrying across the room.

My form moved, carrying me to him, around him, above him, inspecting him for all -him- to see. I couldn't help it if I tried, with my body absent, my consciousness was even more susceptible to the hold he had on me which he didn't know he had on me.

  He let me catalogue him without uttering a word, but once I was before him he asked, "what happened to you yesterday?"

  The information was pulled out of me before I even gave my consent, "I was attacked by my own self as a result of myself running from the object of my obsession"

"Object of your obsession?" He asked, his eyes, his beautiful gray eyes holding mine with enough intensity to power the whole of New Orleans, "do you refer to someone?"

  My mind was mine long enough for me to answer cockily, "why don't you say what you really want to ask"

  He tilted his head slowly, wide shoulders doing that bunch and fold thing that made it -him- seem edible. Damn, was he sexy.

  "Alright then, am I the object of your..."

By some stroke of luck, by a nack of fortune that was certainly not mine, I didn't get to hear the rest of his words and most importantly, I didn't get to answer them as at that moment, I woke up.

______________________________________

I was six again.

I was strung up, hanging by chains. My hands were blistered and bleeding and the chains were digging into my wrists. My body itself was no better.

            I was in pain, a lot of pain.

  "...Such beautiful legs" he crooned, his calloused hands running down my naked flesh, "flawless, just like you"

  I flinched when his hands came to rest between my legs.

"No.." I whispered weakly, my body moving slightly backwards, "please.."

  "But this..." he said with a low whistle and dark smile in his face, "this is the most beautiful part of you, this-"

  I screamed as he showed his entire fingers, all five of them, into me.

I could feel the chunky rings he wore on his fingers digging into my bleeding flesh, scaring my insides, making me thrash violently.

  "No! No! Get it out! Please! Please..." I screamed in anguish, my legs, shaking in agony.

  "Shhhh..." He cooed, his hand still in me, "be a good girl now, or I'll make it worse"

His words silenced me as my cries became muffled against my tightly closed lips.

  "That's my girl, I don't know why you scream everytime" he said with genuine confusion laced in his tone, "now, give me a kiss, c'mon, a small little peck..."

  His lips mashed themselves on mine, his tongue, like a wet towel, pushed into my mouth, taking what I did not offer.

         I couldn't help it, I gagged.

      Repercussions were immediate.

  "You bitch!" He yelled, his hands fisting and bashing my flesh repeatedly.

  My nose re-broke, my already busted ribs cracked even more as I chocked on my own tears and blood.

  It became hard to breath, to move, as he continued hitting me.

  His hands went up, unchaining me and letting me drop in a heap to the ground.

I heard the sound of his buckle, his zip.
It was hard to raise my eyes, to move, so I let my eyes remain on the ground. Even when his hard member thrusted into my body, even when he continued driving into me in a frenzy that could only be described as mad.

  I could hear my own screams as though they came from another person, but my body remained still as I continued staring at the floor, counting the seconds until he got off and left, or began again. Whichever one he desired.

  His hands fisted my hair as he continued rocking into my body, he grunted in my ear, "my pretty little girl..."

........................................................................

There were no tears in my eyes when I woke up.

Completely reasonable, I thought as I stood up and begun stretching, there were no tears left to cry.