Mine | Yours

Yours: Chapter 13

TRIGGER WARNING:

Mentions of rape and self harm.

Please skip this chapter if it makes you uncomfortable.

Scarlett's P.O.V

God, my head hurts.

It feels like the room is spinning.

My palms are sweaty.

Knees weak.

Arms are heavy.

No wait, that's a song.

What the fuck happened last night?

Where the fuck am I?

With the sun blazing straight in my face, I opened my eyes, and I looked around the unfamiliar room.

It looks and smells like shit in here.

Where are my clothes?

Why the fuck is Antoni-

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

My head is throbbing as I feel the pain and soreness of what happened last night. Bits and pieces of Antoni on top of me, my clothes leaving me, my body too weak to fight back. Tears brim my eyes as the realization hits me that he's back to his old ways.

My kids.

"I need to check on my kids" I think as someone opens the door. Antoni. I cover myself with the blanket as I avoid his gaze.

"Great, you're awake. You were wonderful company last night but now it's time for you to get out," he said as he held the door open wide. "Oh, c'mon Scarlett, nothing I haven't seen before. Those kids of yours sure as hell gave you some curves," he said as his eyes traveled down my body. Quickly getting up, I toss on my clothes as fast as I could while ignoring the pain, and run out of the room.

"You're disgusting," I sneered, my voice breaking, as I passed him to which he only chuckled.

Walking into the bedroom, I see Axle and Amara are still fast asleep. Hopping in the shower, I sink to the floor as the warm water rushes over my skin. Tears fall as the events of last night replay in my head.

How could I be so stupid?

I'm such a fucking idiot.

Getting up, I grab the bar of soap on the shelf and begin to scrub. I turn the water heat up and scrub. I keep scrubbing until my skin is red.

More.

Scrub more.

More heat.

More.

More.

More.

In the back of my head, I know that no amount of scrubbing will be able to wash away the sins on my body. No amount of heat will be able to burn away the memories my body holds. The water cascades, carrying away the visible traces, yet the memories remain vivid, refusing to dissolve with soap. There are moments when I wish I could scrub away the memories, the regrets, the pain, and emerge anew, but some stains etch themselves deeper than the surface, defying any attempt at erasure.

I scrub and scrub until the soap disintegrates. My hands still trembling, I reach for the shampoo and grip the shelf for support as I begin to feel light-headed. I still feel so disgusting. So used. So broken. So worthless.