Tortured - Jaele

C H A P T E R | F I V E

                                 • R I E L E •

I laid on the floor of the bedroom between the bed and the window for a long time after Jace left. Staring up at the ceiling, replaying the events of the bath tub over and over again. The pit of my stomach was hollow and desperate for food. I refused to eat what he had to offer and laid there for hours, until the room was washed aglow in orange sunlight as it dipped behind skyscrapers and business buildings.

I heard him coming through the front door, but didn't flinch as I usually would have. The next few days continued like that. I'd wake up to Jace gone and move to the floor after showering to quiet the low hum of dizziness in my head, to steady myself against something solid, to feel grounded.

I started to keep track of the days that went by, I watched thee news every day he wasn't in the penthouse. I recognized my face on one of the bulletins. A picture of me taken on the day of my 19th birthday. My arms were carelessly thrown around Ella and Maeve. We looked sloppy and drunk, but the smile on my face was real. I reached up to touch my face, smoothing my fingers over my lips.

I can't remember the last time I've smiled, or laughed if it wasn't just to piss Jace off. He would come home to see me in the same spot, and make a sound of disapproval at the back of his throat. Maybe give me little kick of encouragement with his foot, and when I wouldn't move he would scoop me up in his arms and lay me in the bed where I faced upwards until he was sleeping. I thought of the bath tub often, how my skin felt when he touched it. The orgasms that raptured my body. He hadn't done anything to me since that day but could still feel it.

"Get up."

Jace said one morning after spending 45 minutes in the bathroom cussing at someone over the phone, he stepped over my body as he entered the bedroom, adjusting a royal blue tie around his neck. He was dressed from head to toe in a stiff looking navy suit and shiny black wingtips. His hair was combed neatly, and gold cuff links glimmered at both of his wrist where a silver x pernada Rolex was revealed from the upping of his left sleeve. I breathed slowly, ignoring him. He wasn't even slightly surprised to still see me lying there.

"Have you eaten yet?"

Jace caught my eyes in the reflection of the floor to ceiling mirror across from the closet.

"I'm not hungry."

I replied, keeping my gaze on the window. Somewhere below I could see people walking about. Inside of their own little words, rushing to get from one end of the city to the other. The shiny yellow tops of taxi cabs that flowed through traffic sometimes kept me entertained. I liked to watch them every day, imagining the way I'd run down into the street and away from this faster reality.

"You're a terrible liar."

"Why would you care?"

"Never said I did."

"So mind your own business."

I snapped, turning over onto my stomach I saw a woman with her arms full of shopping bags get knocked over by a man on a bicycle.

"If you don't fucking eat soon I'll have to make you and I don't mind forcing that pretty little mouth opening and shoving it down your throat."

He was upset and especially sharp this morning. He wasn't usually grumpy, at least from what I could tell. Of course he'd be taking it out on me. There was nothing else that hated him as much as I did in this room. He was always willing to fight.

"What you do best, I suppose."

I gave a noisy sigh, pretending the way he said force and shoving it down didn't bother me.