Dance with the Devil - A CaptainSparklez FanFiction

Chapter Eighteen

trigger warning - rape (lots of hinting, no direct scenes)
this was really really really difficult for me to write, but i really wanted to, and i know that this topic is glanced upon and skimmed over too often.

ASHLYN'S POV

I opened my eyes, waking from the cold, only to be greeted with darkness. I sat up quickly, immediately groaning and clamping my hand over my jaw. Breathing in sharply through my teeth, I gingerly touched the swollen mark. "Motherfucker," I cursed lowly, shifting onto my knees. I shivered, only in my sports bra and underwear. I moved my hand around, cloth meeting my fingers before realizing it was a worn out blanket and wrapping it around me, my joints screaming.

I felt sore everywhere. I couldn't point to a single place on my body where it felt like I wasn't thrown into a wall.

Listening closely, I heard footsteps pacing above me. Landon stripped me and locked me in the fucking basement? I thought, grimacing.

I stood onto my feet, knees shaking, attempting to find my balance. I felt dizzy, despite not being able to see my surroundings. I held my hands out, meeting a wall. I leaned against it, slightly craning my neck to the left.

A shooting pain erupted from my throat, and I immediately began to cough, spitting out a metallic taste. As soon as sound left my mouth, I clamped my palm over it, muffling the sound as tears prickled around my eyes, threatening to fall.

I couldn't remember what had happened, and I struggled to maintain consciousness because of my breath coming out in shallow heaves, as though my throat were collapsing. 

Images of what occurred started to return, the feeling of Landon's calloused hands gripped around my neck, the solid punch he landed on my jaw. Is that when I blacked out?

I squeezed my eyes shut, ignoring the pain erupting from every single nerve on my body.

Minutes passed before I removed my hand from my mouth, turning and making contact with my back against the wall. I slid down, my joints aching.

I traced my hands along my skin, feeling lumps of bruises and sore spots.

What the hell happened? Why do I feel so weak? So sore? So vulnerable? 

Did he drug me?

I groaned in frustration, leaning my elbows against my knees and placing my head in my hands. I focused intently on trying to remember what happened, the only sound I could hear being my labored breathing.

Suddenly, images of moments of slipping through consciousness and unconsciousness flooded my brain -- being thrown into walls, my clothes... being... ripped off, my hair being pulled in every direction, being forced onto my knees...

Oh my god... I thought, my eyes widening as my hands flew up to my throat, falling onto my hands and feeling vomit rise. I heaved, ignoring the fact that the bile was caught on the front ends of my hair.

I sat back up, wrapping the blanket tighter around me, tears spilling down my cheeks as a silent scream left my mouth, only a small whisper-like gasp sounding.

More images of small moments of consciousness appeared -- laying pinned on the floor, my skin in contact with the cold and dirty wooden floors, scratching and punching his torso in feeble attempts of defense, listening to the sound of my own voice screaming and crying out --

It was too much. 

I grabbed handfuls of my hair, pulling harshly as tears poured out of my eyes, scratching my skin in disgust, digging deep enough to draw blood.