THE NARCISSIST'S WIFE

PROLOGUE

Gasping for air, she ran to the door. With bloody hands, she reached for the knob, but to her dismay, she found it locked. Where was the key? Desperate eyes searched in earnest. The silver of its ring peeped through a rug at a far corner of the living room. Of course, he locked the door and tossed it aside before approaching her like he always did. Every time.

Without a second thought, she dashed towards it, the thunderous thudding of her heart threatening to send it leaping off her chest. His foot step echoed from a close distance. She shivered, muttering a silent prayer, "Ya Allah, please..."

Just as she inserted the key and started to turn it, he suddenly grabbed her from behind, pure fury and promise of torture radiated from his very essence. She struggled fruitlessly against his iron grip until her so-called vampire teeth came in her defense; she sank it deep into his flesh and bit him hard, with all the fury and pain and agony she felt. She bit him and made sure she left her mark.

But every action has a reaction, and sometimes, a correction! In moments, she found herself thrown violently against the wall, and the next pain that ceased her almost made her wish for death. It was his belt; the iron edge of his belt. Like always.

She could swear that she wouldn't survive the next hit. Everything was fading out, and her body was quite weak, but the need for survival got her shooting to her feet. She couldn't give up; not then. Not ever.

Unfortunately, just as she wobbled towards the stairs, a sharp pain shot through her scalp as he pulled violently on her once-upon-a-time long, dark tresses. He was dragging her back to the living room, back to torture. She felt like her spinal cord was being twisted. She couldn't bear it anymore. She screamed!

With all she got...