What's home, if not the first place you run away from? What's love, if not that unexplainable, blazing feeling which comes after a period of hate?
Reputable for her catchy appearance, her over-niceness, her obsession with cartoon animations and her...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sam Smith ft. Ed Sheeran - Who We Love.
~
ALL MY LIFE, I'VE BEEN WHAT some people would refer to as privileged, courtesy of my grandparents and my mother—safe, cozy neighborhood, a practical mansion, private school, junk food, first-hand clothes...you name it.
I have never had to work part-time for self-support or beg for anything; even moreso, I have never been in a situation such as this. I have never been raped, and today's not going to be the first time.
I don't know how it happened, but I'm currently straddling Paul, and his hands are all over me, feeling as rough and unsweet as sandpaper, while his lips marr mine with repulsive, forceful kisses which I do not reciprocate.
My teeth clamp down hard on his tongue as it tries to shove its way into my mouth with an intent to bite through it.
He hisses a cuss word underneath his breath in displeasure and instantly withdraws from me, a deep scowl splashing over his facial features and his poisonous, blue eyes narrowing to slits at me.
"You're going to make me fucking hurt you!" His sentence is punctuated with a loud thwack! against one of my cheeks.
I feel a sharp cut on the corner of my lips as my head snaps to the side swiftly, ringing with immense pain like my brain is being whisked torturously in a blender.
Then he grips my chin with immense cruelty. I gasp in pain.
"I don't want to hurt you, my love." His eyes are red and he sounds like he severely regrets hitting me. "Please, don't make me hurt you again, okay?" He tries to kiss me again.
"No!" I scream at the top of my lungs. "Let me go!"
"You can't fight me, Al. You can't stop me from getting what I want." All of a sudden, the regret in his tone is vanished into thin air. "Just stay fucking still and let me have my fill of you."
"Over my dead body!" I cry out, my hands flying up to pry his away from my face.
"Shhhh." He blows air through his teeth onto my face. "You're not going to die on me, Elena." Paul informs me with a dark edge to his tone. "I won't let you die, I promise...I love you so much...I love you more than he does, I swear I do..."
I tune his words out until they sound like hushed whispers in my head as I keep battling him; my scratches and tugs are very uncoordinated and probably not affecting him in the slightest, but I don't stop struggling. I won't stop struggling.
I scream when his hands leave my face after his futile attempt at kissing me again and snake under my shirt, immediately palming my boobs and squeezing with a vengeance.
Oh, God. I know Paul could have easily ripped my bra off without hesitation, but that fact doesn't stop me from hoping and wishing that Davian didn't take my bra earlier today.
