Series: Sean Moriarty
Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
That’s all I’ll ever be to him.
A way to get himself off.
And I’m sick of it.
So fucking sick of it.
“Did you fucking hear me?!” he snaps and grabs me by the chin.
With a hard jerk, he brings my face close to his.
I’m already staring at him, but he wants more control.
And that’s the funny thing, isn’t it?
If someone was looking in from the outside, watching him and what he’s doing, they might see a man so angry he can’t control himself.
They might even excuse him for it.
But he’s in control the entire time.
He could stop if he wanted to. In the past, when an officer showed up at the door, called by a concerned neighbor, he has stopped.
If anything, he does this because he wants more control over me. He wants to bully me into submission.
My own fury begins to boil inside my stomach and it’s everything I can do not to snap back at him.
As his hot breath puffs against my nose, I’d love nothing more than to tell him what I really think of him.
That he’s a fucking pathetic excuse for a man.
That I hate his fucking guts and wish I never met him.
That I hope one day he gets to experience what I’m experiencing. That someone bigger and stronger terrorizes him and makes him feel weak, pathetic, and helpless.
But, unlike him, I don’t have the physical strength to back up my words.
Knowing the second I start to really speak my mind, he starts punching, I grind my teeth together and bite the inside of my cheek.
Digging his fingers into my jawbone so hard he’ll leave bruises, he grinds out, “So that’s it? You’re going to accuse me of shit then not say anything when I defend myself, huh?”
When I still refuse to answer him, he seems to finally snap.
Yanking my chin side to side, he bellows, “Fucking answer me, goddammit!”
He yanks me so hard a muscle in my neck screams in protest, causing me to break my silence.
A little cry slips out of my mouth, and the second it touches my ears I know it’s my undoing.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I brace myself for what’s to come almost in acceptance.
The first punch always hurts the worst.
But it’s not the physical pain that brings me to my knees.
It’s the blow to my soul.
It’s the utter violation of it.
I remember the first time he hit me. I’ll never forget what I felt.
It was like reality had violently shifted without my permission.
One moment, I was living in a world where I believed the person I loved would never hurt me.
And the next, everything I’d been so certain of was crumbling in front of my eyes.
The man I vowed to spend the rest of my life with, the man I hung all my hopes and dreams on, became a stranger. A monster I didn’t recognize.
All my hopes and dreams burst. The future became dark and murky.
He violated me.
Somehow, someway, he managed to violate my spirit.
To hurt a vulnerable part of me that should only be touched with softness.
I should have left then.
But I didn’t.
The lack of money, friends, and family made it impossible to leave. So I convinced myself it was a one-time thing. That I may have even deserved it. That I could be careful and not let it ever get to that point again.
That if I changed and didn’t push him, it wouldn’t happen again.
But it always happens again.
If I succeed at anything in this pathetic life of mine, I succeed at being able to piss him off.
“Fuck!” Kyle shouts in frustration and suddenly shoves me away, causing me to crash into the wall. “Do something about that brat! He’s driving me nuts!”
Ears ringing, head throbbing, I pop my eyes open and stare at him in shock.
What the fuck? He’s never pulled back before. Not when he’s this heated.
Growling with impatience, he grabs me by the back of the head, fingers clamping painfully in my hair, and uses his grip to practically throw me away from him.
Tripping forward, I end up going down to one knee on the carpet.
Dazed and confused, I try to get my bearings.
It’s not until Kyle gives me a hard kick in the ass, sending me down onto my hands, that I finally hear what’s upsetting him.
Abel is wailing and crying.
All the yelling must have woken him from his nap.
The switch inside me flips everything back on and I’m overwhelmed with panic. I claw at the carpet, scrambling forward, trying to get back up when Kyle kicks me again.
Not holding back, his boot connects with my ass and sends me back down to the floor.
“Worthless piece of shit,” he spits out.
Ignoring the strong throbbing coming from my backside, I manage to push myself up and stumble forward. Then I race for Abel’s room.
“I should have listened to my father and never married you,” Kyle says with disgust as he stalks after me. “You’re trash, just like your fucking mother.”