Estranged • h.s.

23

"Again."

I bite hard into my lower lip as the thin piece of leather comes swinging across my stomach for the sixth time. A cracking sob escapes me as I lean forward, mindlessly pulling at my wrists. They pinch in their restraints, which drop from the ceiling to keep me upright.

"Again." Jackson says, instructing one of his fucking mutants to swing the whip across my stomach. I scream, tears pouring down my cheeks as I try again to rip my hands out of the cuffs so that I can shield myself in some way.

But it doesn't work, and I feel powerless.

"What was it you said, again, my dear?" He asks, hands clasped behind his back as he moves toward me.

I suck in a breath while seething from the pain of my skin splitting open. The thick, sharp edges of the leather like knives to my delicate skin. I hate him. I fucking hate him. The relief from the whip doesn't last long, as he walks up and smacks my stomach. Blood drips out of each cut while I jerk in pain, more sobs drowning the space.

"Don't get shy on me now, Cecily. Repeat what you fucking said."

I clench my jaw while I stare right at him, mentally picturing his head exploding on the spot.

He waits, eyeing me like I'm his weak prey. He raises his hand again and I flinch.

"I said I was going to like it." I spit in his face for good measure, knowing I've already dug myself into this torturous night. What's a little more?

He seethes, wiping his face before smearing his hand into my face. Then he slaps me, so hard I see stars, and my stomach feels queasy and everything feels like too much.

"Yeah? You were going to like what, bitch?" His face is in mine before he screams, "Tell me!"

My head rolls backward and his hand clasps my cheeks, pulling me forward to stare at him. I breathe heavily, wishing I could miraculously get out of these restraints and pluck his fucking eyes from his head.

Every day is getting more and more difficult. He's turning me into a fucking monster. A vengeful, blood thirsty animal.

"I'm gonna like it when I fucking shred your skin from your bones and make you choke on your own rotted, useless blood."

His jaw tenses and he turns around, ripping the unique weapon from his man's hands. He wastes no time in using it on me himself, my body going completely tight as I try to breathe through the thick pain.

"Stupid fucking cunt."

Smack.

"Worthless bitch."

Smack.

"No one will ever love you when you look like this."

Smack.

"Never going to be beautiful again."

I can't hear anything else over my own screams as I feel my skin split open wide.

***

I've locked myself away for almost a week. What little food I had to begin with has dwindled to absolutely nothing now. I look a mess, and feel even worse. I should be in the gym or at the club training my body to be the weapon I need it to be, but I've fallen into a bout of depression I cannot leave.

I've tried to muster up any ounce of courage to leave, to get outside and breathe in some fresh air, but nothing has convinced me yet.

Zayn has stopped by, called, even left me takeout. Harry, Harry has left me more notes. Notes I can't bring myself to read. Instead, they sit in a pile on the floor, where they've naturally slipped around my hardwood floors once he gets them through the crack beneath the door.