𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭| 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 |𝟏𝟖+

Chapter 20 | First time affection

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I open the doors of my room, slamming them shut behind me.

What a awful day. And unfortunately it is far from over.

"I'm taking you to a party tonight. Don't try to cover up these, I want them to be seen."

I mean is he completely out of his damn mind? He wants me to go to a party with him and have all his marks revealed. I'll look like a whore. Ironically, he called me that when I was almost raped. Asshole.

I don't want to go to the party, not after what happened to me. I don't want to be anywhere near him or his men. Unless Maxim, he's a bright exception.

Looking at the freshly painted walls I try to forget what happened to me. But I can't. Even though the blood marks on the walls can't be seen anymore I can't just pretend nothing happened. Like he does.

It happened. I know it happened. My trauma knows it happened.

I pull myself out of it, it doesn't do me any good to think about it.

"Ughhh" I groan, walking to the closet. It's almost 8pm, I only have 1 hour left.

"What to wear, what to wear. . ." I mumble, looking through clothes. I guess there has to be something with cleavage but still not too revealed.

Okay, I give up. I'll take a shower first.

Closing the closet's doors I turn around, noticing a- I burst out laughing as my eyes take in a hip flask placed on my night table. That's definitely from Maxim.
I take it in my hand realizing it's full, reading the white note placed on it.

____________________________________________

Heads up, little Gerard.
He is back.
There is something to help you through.

Maxim
____________________________________________

"Oh, Maxim" I chuckle. A little late for a heads up, but thank you.

I open the hip flask, taking a large sip of vodka. That's definitely going to help.

I take the hip flask with me to the bathroom, deciding that I should shower and put my make up on first, worrying about the outfit later.

Looking myself in the mirror my heart hurts. I look like I have bruises all over my neck and chest, down to my breasts. He must officialy be crazy. I'm sure he has a document that proves it. Otherwise he'd not do that to me.

I take one more sip then step into the shower, letting hot water slide down my skin. Since I haven't washed my hair in almost five days, I wash it.

Stepping out of the shower I take another sip and dry myself with a tovel.

After about 40 minutes of styling my curls, putting on make up and taking regular sips I am ready to get dressed.

Stepping back into my room, I open the closet. Something for a party, my hickeys have to show and I still need to feel comfortable.

I think about it for a second, looking through clothes when anger overflows me.

I mean who the fuck does he think he is to tell me what to dress and which part of my skin to show?! Ugh!