𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐢𝐦

TWELVE

"Cold hands brushed my thighs."

12

We had been driving for about an hour, the silence in the car so thick it felt suffocating. The grip he had on my thigh was a constant, and the pain from it had become almost routine. Finally, the car came to a halt. It was dark, and I couldn't make out anything around us.

Reign got out first and came around to my side, helping me out. We were on a mountain cliff, overlooking a brightly lit city below. I walked past him, momentarily mesmerized by the view, but the moment was shattered when he roughly gripped the back of my neck and pulled me into his chest. His hand tightened around my throat, squeezing firmly. My voice was gone, swallowed by the pressure.

"What do you take me for Ami?" A tear fell at the tone of his hard voice. With hands still on my throat, he walked me backwards slowly, not once breaking eye contact.

I was certain he knew the cliff was behind me—was he planning to kill me tonight? With every step I took backward, my heart raced faster. I believed in both God and the Devil, in heaven and hell. But nothing had ever terrified me like this. Reign stood before me, a figure of pure darkness, the Devil in his most merciless form.

"W-wait, Reign, please." Panic overtook me as I tried in vain to pry his hand from my throat, but his grip was unyielding. "P-please, just listen. I-I..."

Flashes of my life rushed before my eyes, reminding me of everything I still had to live for—the life growing inside me. If I was pregnant, I would protect this child with everything I had. Even if I wasn't, the thought of a potential lifeline gave me a spark of hope.

His eyes burned with a desire so intense, I could feel it deep in my bones. And then, I realized we were standing at the edge. My left foot slipped off the precipice, sending a surge of heat through my body. My reflexes kicked in, and I grabbed onto the bottom of his shirt to steady myself. But his hold on my neck only tightened, and I trembled, struggling to maintain my grip with sweaty palms.

"Nyet," Reign muttered, his voice almost a growl. "I know I'm repeating myself, but learning from our mistakes is important, no?"

Before I could respond, his soft, plump lips met mine. My tears fell, dampening my cheeks as I clung to him desperately, trying to hold on.

"Da, don't die, baby," he whispered, his words a strange mix of tenderness and danger. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for what was coming when his hands finally released their grip.

And then, in the silence of my mind, a soft voice whispered, "I'm pregnant."

•••

I've come to know the feeling all too well—the weight of failure pressing down on me. It's always been one extreme or the other: overachieving or falling short. My academic career was a constant battle to be the best, a pressure instilled in me by my father. Now, the universe has handed me Reign, another weight on my shoulders, a constant reminder of my perceived failures, especially when it comes to the way he lives his life. My mother moved on without a word, leaving me to bear the brunt of it all.