Throat Of Thorns

chapter 1

My world was coming to a standstill and it was all my fault.

Behind all my arrogance and bitterness and sheer rudeness, is a young lady from years ago fighting to be set free but abruptly being pushed back and hidden away. 'Out of sight and out of mind.' I felt conned, like I was robbed from a proper upbringing and then was never allowed an adulthood where I could live and be free. I still do feel conned, I cannot lie.

My father. My grandfather. Roger. Men. Took away my right to freedom that I desperately want back and moulded me into this twisted, unlovable villain, something I would not wish on anyone. I don't have the strength to fight back or change, so I have learnt to accept that this is me. This is who I am. My heart aches and yearns to be free from these chains I'm held so tightly in but I cannot break free. I can't save myself, and no one can save me.

"Marjorie." I say in a low, bored voice. She turns her head away from the computer which she was writing an email on,  and looks at me. She grunts as she takes in that it's me and asks what I need. Unfortunately, roger thought it would be a brilliant idea for me to work alongside Marjorie as autumn is not in. I scan her face as she suddenly remembers that I'll be in here today and she sighs and turns back to her screen. "Sit." She demands, and I'm not in the mood to argue so I do just that. I log into autumns computer and tiredly works through the tasks that have been assigned. I'm exhausted, I got no sleep the previous night. I wish I could say it was insomnia but I'd be blatantly lying. 

Roger. It's always roger. When we first became a couple everything was smooth and easy, he would shower me in compliments and gifts and anything I ever wanted, and I let my guard slip and fell into his web. His deceitfulness. I ignored the questionable age gap since it seemed he had no foul intentions with me and only wanted to treat me how I 'deserved'. I guess he did treat me how I deserved in the end, because slowly but surely he became more aggressive, he would put me down and tell me to loose weight or I looked hideous or he couldn't be seen with me if I looked how I did. Then he started taking advantage of my blindness and started using me to let out his anger on. He started to become abusive, it started with the occasional screaming match, then it became physical, then over time became worse and worse.

I loved him, despite what everyone thinks I didn't use him for money, although it was handy. I fell inlove with his charm, his humor and the mature way he handled things at work. Last night when he arrived home, he was in a dreadful mood, I could tell by his clenched fists and his eyes slightly twitching. I was sat on the sofa, in my satin dressing gown sipping on my rosé, resisting the urge to down the bottle , then another one, and another one until I was completely drowned in the feeling of numbness, until every bruise, physical and mental, washed away and became non existent, at least for a while. I awaited my fait, the delicate touch of his hand which could break bones. The soft voice talking that was like gun shots right in the ear. The gentle way he plays with my hair until it's practically ripping off my scalp.

I went to say his name but before I could even start my chin was gripped onto and forced towards his face. I could taste the anger on his tongue, the enrage on his breath. Oh, and the alcohol. I tried to resist but he was strong, too strong for his own good. Before I could process the moment I'm being dragged up the spiraling stairs by my neck and thrown like a ragdoll. Like a toy. I hear water running. I feel his hands. I can't breathe. I'm trapped. I struggle and struggle until I'm barley conscious and I feel myself being lifted from the freezing water and he whispers, "don't fucking resist again." I listened. I was coughing out water so I couldn't respond so he grabbed the nearest pair of scissors and held them to my neck, "fucking answer me women!! Or I'll cut off all that pretty hair of yours, understand??"

Labour. He made me do too much labour.

I'm feeling weak of exhaustion, like I could drop any second. I think I'd rather drop dead right now then live another day with this man. But that's not a choice, I can't. I'm forced to live in this hell hole until the world decides they've played with me enough and drags me from my body to the -

"Siobhan!!!" Marjorie is shaking me and calling out my name. Fuck, did I actually pass out? Or did I just fall asleep? I don't know anymore, it doesn't matter, I was out cold, that's all I know.
I look at her and the concern is very clearly painted on her face. I move my shoulder to push her away, and I expect her to get angry at me. I wait. Something comes near me and I flinch. She puts a glass of cold water on my desk. What? I'm clearly confused and she says, "drink it, do you need something to eat? I can get chef to give me something to give to you?" Food. My worst enemy. I think to the last time I ate a proper meal, days? Weeks? I rub my head and goes, "no need.. thank-" I can't seem to thank her, a lump grows in my throat and I sip my drink.