Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
I gritted my teeth against the pain and forced myself to move. My naked body pressed against the mattress, and I bit on my lips, holding back my cries.
The tears were silent on my bruised cheeks, and I swiped them away.
No tears, honey. They won’t get you anywhere. They make you weak.
The voice rung through my ears like the words were being spoken to me right in this moment. Except they were the words by my mother—from the very last time I saw her.
She had held me in her arms and cried while telling me to never shed tears.
Don’t cry. Be strong. Promise me you will be strong.
Stupid words that held no meaning. How could I be strong when I was not even my own anymore?
She had forced me to walk away with my head held high, like I was a Queen, not someone meant for sacrifice.
After struggling out of bed, I didn’t bother to clothe my naked body. Instead, I limped into the bathroom, my body ravaged in the worst way possible. I knew when I looked into the mirror, I would see the damaged girl with no dreams or hopes left.
A pretty face with an empty soul. Eyes with no life, just staring, just observing, just living.
The door closed behind me, and I locked it, safe in my sanctuary. At least here, he wouldn’t follow me. It was a place where I could hide and try to clean my body the only way I could. Wash away my shame as I cried silent tears. Bathe myself while hoping I could bathe away the pain.
My eyes met my reflection in the mirror, and I smiled.
Just like I predicted. My reflection told the real story. My reality.
I walked closer, my fingers softly touching my face where my husband had bruised me. The touch moved to my swollen lips where he had hit me. The blood had dried, but it was still aching.
My gaze followed down the length of my neck, the red marks now slowly turning a deep shade of green and red. I touched the skin but winced at how sore and sensitive it felt.
He tried to strangle me for disobeying him.
When I am fucking you, I want your eyes on me.
I wished I was blind; at least then I didn’t have to look at his face and relive my nightmare every time. At least then, I could just stare into the darkness and act like this was just a bad dream.
I huffed a small laugh from my chest and then flinched. Giving myself a final look, I walked into the shower and turned on the water.
It cascaded around me, falling like beautiful waterfall. I reveled in the freshness and soothing rhythm, closing my eyes and just enjoying this slight touch of happiness.
I didn’t care how long I stood there, but by the time I walked out, my skin was red from the hot water and I was no longer cold. Instead, I felt warm, like I was almost floating.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Another smile touched my face. Valentin could try however much he wanted, but he would never own my soul.
I might have felt like an empty shell inside, but I was still living.
He could break me every day, but the fact that I was still breathing proved I was strong. He would break me and then I would stand up again.
He would rape me but I would clean my body of his filth.
At the end of the day, I was winning this game. His game was to break me. He did break me. Every day. But because my will power—my will to protect them was stronger than his will to break me. I was still alive because of it.
I will live. And I will protect. I was born to protect. I was born for this. And I will die only when I have fulfilled my duties.
After drying my body, I wore another black dress—clothes he had custom made for me. To hide my body for any other eyes. After all, I was only his.
I looked into the mirror and laughed silently. How stupid. How foolish. His own actions contradicted him.
He clothed me so that nobody could see me, yet he would take me in front of his friends. A prize he won so he would celebrate to show his victory.
I combed my hair, watching the silky strands flow behind my back after I was done. The marks he left me were now hidden.
We were back to being the perfect couple. Perfect wife. Perfect husband. Perfect life.
Only problem—the mirror showed our reality. I had the sudden urge to break it into pieces. An act of rebellion, just for a moment I wanted to show my anger. I wanted to take it out. I wanted to see the scattered pieces on the floor—just like the scattered pieces of my life.