✔After Fate

04: Cooking

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Last week, I escaped by a hair and a nail. No not escape like away from this hell hole...I mean escape as in the present moment. I escape from any non consent crap that somehow started because I refused to clean the room he trashed. Now, I sort of wished I cleaned the fuck out of that room. Anything that could've been done to avoid this very moment of preventing my rape from happening, I would have gladly done all of it. Now, every day I have to fight him. I'm not sleeping, eating, or anything. I have to put all my energy into avoiding it and with a broken leg and feeling exhausted all the fucking time it is getting harder and harder to do.

The good thing about all of this, and yes there are benefits in being in this situation is that I get to bathe for ten minutes every week meaning I get a pair of clean clothes once a week. I get some table scraps after he's eaten and when he goes to bed, I get a nice hour of sleep everyday. This is not enough to survive, I know that but I have to build energy to run Since I'm not getting any medical attention any time soon I have to bandage myself up to the best of my ability since all I have is first aid knowledge. I treat it like it's a sprain because that's all the knowledge I have about this situation. Other than the fact I can tell it's broken but I'm pretty sure everybody could tell me that.

At the moment, I'm lying on the mat he's given me in the corner of the living room, like a fucking dog, staring at the ceiling. It's about seven in the morning, so I know he's going to be down here any second now. My few moments of bliss will be over, and I will be forced to have to deal with his intrusions. I could hear his footsteps coming down the stairs, the heavy things stomping on every step he made. I tensed up, any moment now.

"Are you ready to give in today, whore?" He asked me as he stomped toward me.

Whore? That's a new one. He's been calling me bitch since I got here. "What do you think today, Griffith?"

"I think you still haven't learned what obedience actually fucking means!" He shouted in my face kicking me quite hard for him just to be waking up.

"All you fucking do is yell at me. The entire time I've been here you probably asked me to do one thing." I said as I stood up slowly. I balanced on my good leg and looked him straight in the eyes, as much as I could as he was taller than me. "So until you actually ask me to do something with a leg you bro-"

He grabbed my arm and twisted it until he heard a couple pops and a crack. "I'll do more than just give you a broken leg. So fix me breakfast, ten minutes is all you get." He commanded me.

"Imbecile, it'll take me ten minutes just to walk there!" I yelled in his face.

"Figure it out!" He screamed right back then turned and walked right back the way he came.

This dumbass is going to kill me before anything ever gets done. He needs to learn how to talk to anybody before he commands them. I cradled my maybe broken arm to my chest and talked myself into hardcore limping to the kitchen to make myself some breakfast. If I'm going to be walking anywhere it will be for my own benefits. It took me about five minutes to get to the kitchen, half the time I thought it would actually take.

Once I was in the kitchen, I opened the fridge and took out the carton of eggs, put it on the counter, then I repeated the process with the sliced ham, shredded cheese and quarter carton of milk. I found out where the frying pans were and pulled out a small one, putting it on the oven that was pretty close to the fridge. I found the cooking spray and sprayed the pan before cracking six eggs in the pan and added some milk just a little to fluff up my omelet. Then I added my sliced ham and shredded cheese. This was going to taste amazing. I put back my ingredients. I closed my omelet when it was ready and put it on a plastic plate. I grabbed a metal fork and trudged down to the dining room table. Finally, I get to eat a full meal that wouldn't starve me after. I sat down on the table and elevated my broken leg and my probably broken arm was still cradled to my chest. I ate in silence as I heard the heavy footsteps of Griffith.

"Smells good, what did you make?" Griffith called as his footsteps were coming my way.

I didn't respond. Instead I wanted him to see for himself. I'm hungry, I've been eating his scraps for weeks. I was not just going to cook for him. He didn't deserve my cooking. He didn't deserve me and I pretty much told him that with my actions for weeks now.

"Oh you fucking bitch! Why are you eating my breakfast!" He exclaimed right above me now.

"I was hungry, I cooked it, it's mine." I dumbed it down for him not even looking at him.

He stood there for a few seconds just watching me eat breakfast. Then he bent down and just out of nowhere started groping me. I immediately felt disgusted and with my bed hand tried to remove his hands. The kept one hand on my boobs and grabbed my fork I was just using before stabbing my bad arm.

"I'm taking this with me. Clean your mess and then go sit outside and wait for me. If not, then worse things than just a fork will be in your arm." he whispered in my ear.

He then stood up, grabbed my half-eaten plate of omelet and walked back the way he came. I looked at the fork in my arm and gripped it as tight as I could before keeping as much of my screams of excruciating pain to myself as I took it out. My blood seeping out slowly put enough to make me mildly queasy. I cradled the wounded arm to my chest and cried myself as I stood up putting all of my weight on my good leg and shuffled my way to the back door. I glided the door that slides open as much as I could before it wouldn't pass because of this little bump. I looked at the space between the wall and the door and with all these injuries, I couldn't make it out. I heard the pounding of Griffith's footsteps, practically marching down the stairs, she glanced through the glass sliding door and saw the soft grass she was supposed to be waiting on. Trying her best, she pushed the door with all the strength she could manage with one hand in balancing on one leg, it wasn't that much and she knew it; yet, she wouldn't stop trying. Griffith was now completely downstairs and headed her way, so she straightened up and turned around, standing her ground. This is not going to end well and she knew she would have another injury on top of all the ones she already had to deal with.

"And why aren't standing outside?" He demanded an answer from me.

"The fucking door wouldn't budge and I'm not a fucking twig." I answered him

He walked passed me and looked at the progress I've made. Surveying my work for several awkward minutes later, he turn back around to face me and looked directly into my eyes. "Fucking idiot." He muttered as he grabbed my face and smashed it right through the glass door. Thankfully, I shielded my eye area with my bad hand as a freaking reflect. He could have blinded me. I went crashing to the grass, the glass pieces scattering everywhere. He, thankfully, didn't come after me because I was in no shape to try and defend myself from him. He just closed the rest of the door, that was still together and even that was just practically the frame, and disappeared from my sight going somewhere in the house. If I couldn't see him then he probably couldn't see me, so I curled into an awkward shape that was comfortable and cried myself to sleep.

If he keeps this up, he might end up breaking me apart.