Desired Fate

Prologue

Low grunts emitted from his throat and vibrated onto the skin of my neck as he left sloppy dog-like kisses on my collarbone. His half-arsed attempt at foreplay, which only lasted about ten seconds was more to get him to the finish line than for my enjoyment. This wasn't a situation created from love, so I was glad it was only ten seconds, the quicker he finished, the quicker he could get his beer belly off of me. 

Once he was done drooling over my prickled skin, he lifted his head, the grunts turned into pants and he fanned my face with his whisky breath. I lay there silently with my hands beside me, I held my breath to avoid the toxic fumes from his sewage plant of a mouth, and I gazed up towards the ceiling because the sight of his flushed face with puffed-out cheeks as he moaned over me was enough to make me want to vomit. 

The monotony of his average, nothing to brag about dick, slapping in and out of me was thankfully usually over within a minute, sometimes even less. His orgasm face was the same guise he used when he was constipated and once he was done, he would roll off me, leaving his watery fluid behind. 

I was never allowed to get up and clean myself off after his sixty seconds of pleasure. Instead, he pinned my naked body between him and the bed, his dripping cock wedged into the curvature of my back, leaving an uncomfortable sticky mess. He could leave all the physical marks on me he wanted, but when he would whisper into my ear how I would belong to him forever, that left ineradicable mental stains.

My eyes squeezed shut as the flashes of memories swamped my darkened mind. One hand gripped the side of the porcelain sink to steady my shaking legs, and the other hand suffocated the cardboard packet I held in it. I might have been able to physically escape his clutches, but the memories he had left me with haunted me.

I opened my eyes, taking a few seconds to acclimatise to the false light of the small bathroom before I saw myself in the mirror that hung on the shell-white tiles. My long brown hair was tied in a loose bun on my head, my twelve-hour-old eyeliner had faded and my sea-blue eyes had bags underneath them from collecting all the contents of my nightmares. 

I had to remind myself why I had been working double shifts every day for the last week and it wasn't because I couldn't afford my rent since I had been living on my own the last month, but the fact I was about to embark on a fresh start. A clean slate that required me to do some serious saving if I was going to up and leave everything behind with no job and nowhere to live, just the wind beneath my newfound wings. 

I peered down at the squashed packet that was slipping through my fingers, quickly opening it up and placing the content down on the sink next to the red cup filled with my pee. I had too many emotions, an overactive mind and unadulterated fear which was why this pregnancy test had been sitting in my bathroom cabinet for the last four days. 

The irony of this situation was that whilst I had this ghost of the past following me everywhere I went, I was running towards another open gravesite and the coffin in the hole I wanted so desperately to confront was reconnecting with my long-lost brother whom I hadn't seen in eight years.