Shattered Vows

Feelings

Weeks had gone by since I came to Marco's mansion, and each day felt like an eternity. The same horrible routine kept repeating, Marco would come back in the night about 10pm drunk and take the innocence from my body. He's been doing it every night for the past week. I was hopeless. I am now his to do whatever with. I'm just a rag doll to him. I beg him every night not to do it , but he doesn't say anything but remind me that I am his my body is his my everything is now at his mercy.

Marco's visits were becoming more frequent and cruel. Each time he came, I felt more degraded and helpless. His presence was overwhelming, and the things he did left me feeling broken and worthless. The once-beautiful mansion now felt like a place of constant suffering.

My nights were the hardest. Lying in the grand bed, surrounded by the silence of the mansion, I felt completely alone. The pain from Marco's visits weighed heavily on me, and I found it hard to imagine how I could keep going. The thought of another day filled with his cruelty was almost too much to bear.

In these dark moments, I sometimes wished for an end to the constant torment. The idea of escaping the pain, even if it meant giving up on everything, seemed like a way out. But even in my darkest moments, a small part of me held onto hope. It was a tiny, fragile hope that maybe, somehow, things could get better.

Each day felt like a struggle, but that small glimmer of hope kept me going. It was the only thing that kept me from giving up entirely, even as the days dragged on and the weight of my situation pressed down on me.

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