Rescue Me *Completed*

Chapter Forty-Seven

*WARNING: This chapter contains themes of Domestic violence, abuse, and the use of uncontrolled substances. If any of these themes could trigger you, please skip this chapter. You have been warned.

"You could fucking hurry it up with that sandwich you Bitch!" He shouts. "Fuck, you're slower than a pig on crutches!"

Bitch this. Bitch that. Everyday It was a new slur.

Today, it just so happens to be Bitch.

I carefully approached him with small steps, being careful not to trip myself over the chain on my ankles.

As he relaxed on the brown leather recliner, he yelled at me to move out of the way so he could enjoy the football game. I obeyed once I had set down his food and drink.

"and where in the fuck are you going?" he scolds with a mouth full of food. "I didn't tell you to fucking leave. Sit."

"The cutting board is dirty." I said. "I just want to wash it--."

"and I'm telling you to fucking sit!"

He reaches into his pocket, my body instantly taking off into a state of panic when I fell to my knees. I didn't even have a chance to beg for forgiveness before he could set off another long jolt of a shock. When it had finally came to a stop, I could feel the pain continue to quake my bones. This was going to hurt so much worse later.

"Now I'll say it again," he sniffs through his irritated nose. "Sit next to me like the little bitch you are. I'm giving you 'til the count of five to come by my side. 1... 2..."

I quickly dragged my body with my arms across the cold wood floors; stopping right by his arm rest and propping myself on my knees.

"Now was that so fucking hard?" He smirks down at me. "If you weren't so damn stupid then maybe I wouldn't have to shock you as much. But you know what they say, you can always retrain an old dog if done right."

who in the fuck says that?

I stare blankly at the television, nearly letting myself drift into the black void of my mind when his voice pulls me back like a leash.

"it's been almost a week you know." He rubs my head like a pet. "7 fun days without anyone to bother us and no one has bothered to set out a report. I told you no one would want you, and yet you still have me, the one who really cares about you."

that's not true. Michael's probably so worried about me... isn't he?

he probably thinks I left him in the dust... Please... don't let him think that I left him.

"Remember what I said about the fucking crying?" he threatens me. "you better fucking stop before I yank this hair off your fucking head."

"S... Sorry..." I tried to say neutrally.

"Sorry. What." he emphasized.

"S-Sorry... Master."