{18+ COMPLETED}
A war that destroyed the world. It came and it went, leaving death and chaos in its wake.
In the resulting turmoil England has split into four regions, a safety measure that was 'essential' to ensure that violence would not reign ov...
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I'm so fucking angry.
I'm angry at myself for putting her in that situation. It's my fault she was fucking injured, it's my fault for not being there to face my mistakes. She did instead, whilst I was getting sucked off by Anna.
I'm angry at the State for treating us like fucking shit, expecting us to do whatever they tell us without fighting back. I'm angry at the Germain bitch for acting like she's fucking God.
I'm angry at Emilia for making me feel like I need to help her, the sight of her tearing me up inside, forcing me to make sure she's okay. I may not want to be married, but I'm not a damn monster.
She looked so small in that bath, so helpless and vulnerable, I couldn't bring myself to leave her to wash herself, scared of what she might do. She won't tell me what they did to her, but I have a pretty good idea from the rumours I've heard over the years.
There's no fucking way that Emilia can go to the store, every movement looks like it's causing her pain. I might not spend a lot of time in the house, but she has no food and I'll be damned if that continues because of me.
Storming down the street, I stop in front of a ridiculously happy looking couple and glare at them, noticing the shopping bags in their hands.
"Where's the store?" I snap, their eyes widening at my tone before they stare at me. "I haven't got all day."
"Take the next right," the girl finally answers, pointing back up the street. "If you keep going straight for five minutes you'll notice the old Tesco on the corner of a roundabout," she continues. "That's where they serve partnered couples."
"Fantastic, thanks," I mutter under my breath before stepping around them and continuing to make my way down the street.
It takes me five minutes to spot the old sign at the entrance to the store and I stride in, all eyes instantly turning to me. I ignore them, instead eyeing the pick-up sign and making my way over, glaring down at the young boy behind the counter.
"I'm here to collect food for the week."
"Address and name?" he replies, looking down at his clipboard. Address? I don't fucking remember. Is it number twenty six or twenty seven? Could it be twenty nine?
"I don't remember the number. Hudson Street," I snap. "Name is Zac Hastings."
"Zachary?" he queries, as he looks at the paper.
"What do you think?" I smirk as he shrinks back into his chair.
"And where is your partner?"
"At home. She can barely walk," I retort, crossing my arms.
"Barely walk?"
I nearly see red at his blubbering words, struggling to contain my anger as I glare down at the boy. "She spent last night in the fucking Cell. She's trying to recover from the torture."
