19) Hatred.

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I hate him.
I hate him.
I hate him.
I hate him.
I hate him.
I hate him.

I lay in my bed under my covers, unable to escape the coldness inside of me. I hate him. It's been 3 weeks, and everyday.... He's... He's had his way with me.... I feel sick at the thought, before I can think I lean over my bed and throw up in the bowl next to it.
The door opens.
'Princess? Are you okay?' He sits beside me 'I'd be better alone...' I say quietly and i know he heard me when he pulls me around violently, making me face him, 'don't talk to me like that slut.' He says and I nod slowly, trying to hide the fear going through me.

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