The Pretty Poison

PART 30 - Chapter 19

PART 30 – Chapter 19

His palms press my hips to the ground and he gets on top of me, fiddling with my clothes. I can’t do anything under his pressing weight. It feels like my lungs refuse to work while his body is on top. Raspy breaths ask him still to get off, to leave me alone. He doesn’t answer. The inner lust and rage always simmering under his calm is taking him over and I’m barely able to move.

My body purrs unintentionally at his kiss. I can’t take it anymore, letting him always control my every move! With all of my strength in one final shove, he rolls far enough over to the wall giving me time to break free from his grasp. Kicking behind me in case Westley tries to follow, my legs work overtime. The muscles scream, telling me there is no way they can work this hard. They’re ready to give way. But I press on, trying to survive my lover.

The smooth sole of my boot slips when he grabs my ankle. My elbows smash into the carpeting but I’m determined to get away. The scrapes don’t bother me. My adrenaline is too high to feel them anyway. The bottom of my eye catches a glimpse of the broken branch in my boot. As much as I don’t want this to happen, I could never hurt Westley like that. I leave the sliver of wood where it is and attempt to reach the door.

Flailing arms from both of us reach out, knocking over the standing lamp. The only light other than the bedroom's comes crashing to the ground. Shards from the blackened glass scatter in my hair and the fizz of the bulb makes me shiver. Now that it’s much harder to see, I fight blindly with only the sight of Westley’s silhouette crawling hungrily towards me.

“Stop,” I whimper as he bites into the vulnerable skin of my neck, accidentally drawing blood. Why must this torment be pleasurable in his eyes? His nails drag on my skin under the fabric of my shirt and my back arches with the insufferable pain. I feel the claw marks he’s left. I don’t want this.

Cabinet doors in the kitchen bang my skull as Westley repositions me to where he wants. Pain buzzes through my brain from being hit so many times this day. He almost has my shirt off when I come back to attention. My arm reaches behind me, scraping for the cupboards to open. I barely manage to squeeze my wrist through to find the glass flower vase. I grab it but all my hope leaves immediately though my fingertips. It could never fit through the slim opening with Westley still grabbing and pressing me to the ground. With an exhale of desperation, I open my windows to the storm.

“At least take me to the bedroom,” I cry out. All movement stops except for the heavy breathing from our chests. He considers what I ask, looking to me with greedy eyes and a doubtful expression. I smile back and run my fingers up his chest with my free hand. It doesn’t take him too long to decide and I’m lifted from the floor with my legs forced to wrap around his waist and the vase gone from my grasp.

“With pleasure.”

He throws me on the bed and slams the door shut. I panic on what to do now, not having the weapon I was planning on using. The beat of my heavy heart pounds in my chest as he falls on top of me. There is nothing to keep him from me and no fight for me to give. My head falls to the side after slipping free from the removal of the sequined shirt. I might as well wait until it’s over. My cheek nestles into the comforter and I let him roam. His hands caress me and I do nothing to stop him. That is, until I find one last string of chance. Waiting until his lips and eyes are preoccupied with my skin, my arm reaches out to the nightstand and grips the alarm clock. The cords snaps off as I roll him over unexpectedly and raise the makeshift weapon over my head. He is left stunned as the clock crashes down on his forehead, leaving angled cuts over his handsome features.

Over and over again I strike him, keeping his arms pinned to the bed with my one free hand and my legs. Each hit shakes the entire bed and leaves him more unfocused than before. Once his blood starts to flick onto my face, I stop. Westley grumbles beneath me but I can only hear my irregularly panting breath. The clock drops free from my hand and bounces onto the bed. There’s silence as I pull myself off of my once-lover. He groans and moves ever so slowly but he’s alive. I didn’t think I hit him too hard, just hard enough for me to flee his grips.