"I hate you." My voice cracks as I tell him.
His feet stop at the door.
I clutch the bedsheet tightly around my chest as he turns around with an emotionless face.
"Then there will be a lot of hate fucking between us." A smirk curve his lips as his g...
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*Beep*
*Beep*
My eyes open to the irritating sound coming from the alarm clock on my side table.
"Fuck you." I growl, sitting up and realize this small watch is not my clock. In fact, it is not even my watch.
Slowly, the slap of reality snaps on my face and I look down at my naked, sore body. It wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare coming alive.
My fist clutch on to the bedsheet on which he bend me and took me brutally. I thought I hated Ryan because of his evil ways, but turns out he was a saint in front of this vicious beast and his barbaric ways.
Dakota was like a wild animal on bed, driven by the demons of revenge and lust. Whose only motive was to ruin my body and destroy my self-esteem by treating me like a whore.
His whore.
I hate that degrading word.
I hate it more than I hated his best friend, his stupid lingeries or even himself. Hatred flows in me denser than blood and I discard the duvet and my self pity as I stand up.
I hiss at the soreness of my stiff hips and the stingy ache in between my legs. I was never this sore, even when I lost my virginity.
I force my lashes to look up and stare at my assaulted body in the mirror. Blue marks decorate my hips like little flowers, along with red scratch marks by manhandling my skin.
A lone tear falls from my swollen eyes as memory from last night comes alive. His hands clutching on to my hips as he jerked my body back and forth on his erection, all while he forced me to witness the sex scene.
Gosh! I hate him.
I fucking hate him.
I immediately wash the tear away and take a shower in his luxurious bathroom before wearing my cloth- Where the hell are my clothes?
I look all over the bedroom floor for my shirt and pants, which I clearly remember him ripping out of my skin, right here on this spot.
Panic dances in me like disco as I shuffle through the wardrobe, going through every shelf, cabinet, drawer, but other than slutty lingeries and stalkings, my clothes are nowhere to be seen.
That fucking bastard!
I can't believe he took away my crown and now, my princess dress.
I strap the bathrobe around my waist and stomp down his stairs, looking for my clothes. Laundry room, backyard, guest washroom, under the couch, in kitchen cabinets.
Nada.
My naked feet touch the wet ground of his driveway as I continue the search operation. I remember dropping my shoes here, while I was running away from the brute and as predicted, they are missing as well.
