Page 82 of Blinded By Hate

I hate using the word disgusting because it feels wrong to say. But in this moment I’ve never felt so used and nasty.

I’ve never felt like a discarded toy that someone uses constantly. It’s the fact that I’m not even awake which makes me even more disgusted.

The only time I was awake was with Marco. He made sure to have me remember every little detail.

Every nasty touch, every degrading word, and every fucking moment of those ten minutes and thirty-seven seconds.

Those are ten minutes and thirty-seven seconds I will never forget or get back.

A knock sounds on the door making me look up. Eric walks in, with a menacing smile on his face but my eyes go to the knife in his hand.

I’ve learned to put a mask on my face when they come in. Most of the time I just block everything out and pretend I’m somewhere else.

The drugs help.

I wish I would fucking have a seizure or pass out from high blood sugar but the one time my diabetes decides not to act up, it’s right now.

I have been low from not eating but they make sure to force food down my throat.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Eric closes the door behind him and locks it. “Just me and you today. Got my own personal agenda I need to take care of before Marco comes back.”

Marco has gone on a business trip and that’s why I haven’t seen him since that first day.

Eric has been the one traumatizing me with his buddies but they usually drug me up a little bit.

He walks closer to me and I move back until my back is against the wall. “Now don’t worry, sweetheart, won’t hurt much. I’ll go easy on you,” he says before putting his hands on me.

I scream.

I flinch away from him as he removes the shirt so it’s dangling on my arms and my breasts are free. Cold air hits my nipples and goosebumps rise on my skin.

When the pointy end of his knife touches my skin that’s when I freak out. I try to kick him but he digs the knife deeper.

Block it out.

Block it out.

Block it out.

“No! No! NO! Let me go! Let me go! Please!”

I’m sobbing at this point.

Screaming to the top of my lungs for anyone, anyone to hear me and save me.

I want it all to stop.

Make it all stop.

I claw at his hands on me but he presses me against the wall with a hand on my neck and the other carving my side. Eric is getting scratch marks and I think he might be bleeding a little from how desperately I’m rapidly scratching.

There’s nothing I can do to stop him or make him stop.

I’m defenseless.

It’s painful, the things that are running through my mind.

Not even the knife that’s cutting me is distracting me from the pain inside my head.