“No. Please, no.”
It was an endless chorus of pleading that he easily ignored. In his eyes, I was to be used in whichever way he pleased.
“Please, God, no. Stop it. Please, please, please, no.”
I might as well have been talking to myself, for I heard no response other than grunts, and those were not answers. They were affirmations of his power.
It continued. For how long, I cannot say. Hours, days, or perhaps weeks. He held me there, underneath him, he held me until I was no longer me but only this Thing in which he forced himself. He enjoyed it, oh, God, he enjoyed it, that sick bastard, when It cried and pleaded quietly. And when the bastard finished, he rolled off It and smiled and with that smile a chilling promise was delivered.
“I’ll return for more.”
With those words and that smile and that power, I was lost forever, never to return. He did not harm me; he knew I would never tell a soul. How could I? I had loved him, adored him, practically worshipped him. Waited eagerly each day for when I might see him. He was a hero when I needed one the most. And now – this? The hero had become a monster far worse than any I had before encountered.
All was lost, I was lost, I had lost it all. He left this Thing crying and sniveling on Its bed. He left; but when he did, this Thing, this lost and lonely girl who had once been so sweet, so smart, this Thing
Got up
Crept out of Its room
Found the knife
Slit Its wrists |
Submission Name: Thing
