Breaking Free

"I don't want this anymore!!" I tried to reason with him. I tried to get him to stop. I never really wanted this.

"Doesn't matter what you want now does it, bitch?" I could still hear his response echo in my head. His laugh was sinister, and emotionless. I always knew he never cared about me. I don't think he could ever feel anything at all. He was too far gone.

Tears were streaming down my face despite my attempts to hold them back. I could feel the sting of his belt as it slapped across my skin once more. The burning feeling was intense, and all I could think about was wanting it to stop, to all end.

My arms were cuffed to the bed post, and I couldn't get them free although I had been trying for hours. I could feel the blood around the raw skin of my wrists. My ankles were tied together to the end of the bed leaving me completely unprotected. From my constant struggling, I could now feel the rope burn making them too sensitive to continue my struggle. 

The room was dark, but not dark enough. He could still see me. He could see the pain in my eyes, my sore, raw skin, and the blood. 

I didn't need to see it. I could feel it. There was a pool of blood dripping down either side of my back, coming from the gash on my lower back. I had struggled too much for him... 

I knew what was coming next, and I tried to reason with him once more. 

"Please don't do this. Please stop. I'm bleeding and hurt, I need help."

I could hear him laughing once more before it was drowned out by my screaming. I knew no one was going to hear me, but I couldn't help but try. I was frightened, I knew what he was going to do next. It had happened too many times before. 

As I lay flat on my stomach, naked, unable to move, or break free, I could feel his weight rest on my legs pinning them down and I know what's coming. I try to squirm out of it, but it's no use. I wasn't breaking free.

Unable to move, I feel him enter me roughly. As he goes faster and deeper, he grabs fistfuls of my hair and yanks, pulling chunks of hair out of my head. I howl in pain, but he only enjoys it and quickens his pace. Moving his hands to my back, I relax a little, relieved that the pain would lessen. 

Instead, I feel a digging into my back from his nails as they sink into my skin. I try to hold back but I cry out in pain once more, feeling the blood spilling out, his fingers still dug into the now open wounds in my back. I just wanted him to stop. In hopes that my motionless form would quicken the process, I lay completly still and quiet, holding back the urge to scream or cry.

Only I should've known that isn't what he wanted. He wanted to torture me, and he wanted to hear me in pain. Thinking that I wasn't already in pain, he took a knife that was sitting on the table next to him, and drove it into my arm. 

Through my screams of pain I could hear his pleasured laughing mixed with his sick moaning. He finished roughly, and got off of me, leaving me tied there and bleeding. I could hear him in the bathroom washing up, and I was just hoping he would unty me when he got back. I could feel blood trickling out of many different gashes.

As I suspected, when he returned, I was untied, and cared for. He took bandages and wrapped up my wounds. It was like a routine, and I couldn't get out of it. It was always the same. 

He kept me locked in his basement with no way out. I was trapped to live like this, day after day.