her
still, raping her, freeing her of the last bit of love she’d had for him. When he’d roared out his release, and
when his body collapsed over hers, he ripped her head to the side once more.
“I told you that you belong to me long ago, and regardless
of whether you love me or hate me, that will never change. If you value your life, it’s best you
learn to accept it.”
He pulled himself free allowing her to fall to the floor.
She sobbed as he redressed, and as his footsteps grew faint when he left the
room. Only when the door closed,
did she allow herself to truly let go; crying, shaking, and drowning in the
knowledge that he’d never let her leave.
Chapter Twelve
One deep, dark and resonating note filled the small space of
the room. Arianna’s eyes looked up
at the music above the keys, squinted at the light and airy music contained on
those pages, music that she could not play, could not bring herself to
enjoy.
One finger, on one key, playing one note – over and
over.
It was all she could manage.
Two weeks had passed, each night bringing more indignity,
more rape. Her body felt bruised
and battered, and her mind felt shredded and torn. She’d become a prisoner in her own home,
an object for his use, his pleasure, a thing of so little value, that she’d
been reduced to an empty shell devoid of emotion or light.
Connor stood at the door to the music room, his stance
typical as he stood sentry over her. She grown accustomed to his presence, and oddly, she found comfort in
his ever-watchful eyes. They’d
spoken to each other only on rare occasions, and only when she’d responded to
his statements or questions. However, as the weeks dragged on and as Joseph fell further into
madness, dragging her along with him, Arianna couldn’t speak, wouldn’t voice
anything openly or easily.
Up until this morning, she’d still been able to play, but
the night before had been her worst. Joseph’s tastes were becoming more vile, more depraved. He’d violated her in ways no man should
be allowed, had torn at parts of her body, had chained her and gagged her, and
he had done so while telling her he loved her still, and that in time, when she
was fat with his child, she’d remember the promises made on their wedding
night, their past desire for a child they could call their own. She knew he was sick; that his mind had
twisted into something foreign and dark – a place from which there was
little hope of return.
She’d grown numb to the abuse, to the added insult of his
spoken words of love. Reaching a
point where death was welcomed, she secretly hoped he would go too far, choking
her free of her life, instead of just into unconsciousness.
Each morning that she woke up, she forced herself from bed
and out into the living room. After
the first week, she’d noticed how Connor’s eyes would seek out new injuries,
how they would hood over and darken when he’d found what he sought. He’d said nothing to her about it,
hadn’t made a move to approach her in the weeks that Joseph’s abuse had
occurred; so, when a deep voice spoke softly behind her while she sat playing
that one key, she startled before turning to look into the eyes of emerald and
jade that shimmered in light and were made brilliant against tan skinned and
black hair.
“I’m sure you’ve heard this many times in your life, but you
play beautifully.”
She blinked in surprise, not having expected a compliment
from the strong and silent guard in the room. Her eyes lowered to the floor, the
intensity of his stare too much for her at that moment. She felt exposed, raw, and ashamed after
the nights she’d spent with Joseph over the past few weeks. “Thanks, I
guess.” Turning back to the piano,
she lifted her hands as if to finally play, but the only thing that fell on the
ivory keys were the tears she could no longer contain.
The soft sound of boots against stone tile was the only
warning
still, raping her, freeing her of the last bit of love she’d had for him. When he’d roared out his release, and
when his body collapsed over hers, he ripped her head to the side once more.
“I told you that you belong to me long ago, and regardless
of whether you love me or hate me, that will never change. If you value your life, it’s best you
learn to accept it.”
He pulled himself free allowing her to fall to the floor.
She sobbed as he redressed, and as his footsteps grew faint when he left the
room. Only when the door closed,
did she allow herself to truly let go; crying, shaking, and drowning in the
knowledge that he’d never let her leave.
Chapter Twelve
One deep, dark and resonating note filled the small space of
the room. Arianna’s eyes looked up
at the music above the keys, squinted at the light and airy music contained on
those pages, music that she could not play, could not bring herself to
enjoy.
One finger, on one key, playing one note – over and
over.
It was all she could manage.
Two weeks had passed, each night bringing more indignity,
more rape. Her body felt bruised
and battered, and her mind felt shredded and torn. She’d become a prisoner in her own home,
an object for his use, his pleasure, a thing of so little value, that she’d
been reduced to an empty shell devoid of emotion or light.
Connor stood at the door to the music room, his stance
typical as he stood sentry over her. She grown accustomed to his presence, and oddly, she found comfort in
his ever-watchful eyes. They’d
spoken to each other only on rare occasions, and only when she’d responded to
his statements or questions. However, as the weeks dragged on and as Joseph fell further into
madness, dragging her along with him, Arianna couldn’t speak, wouldn’t voice
anything openly or easily.
Up until this morning, she’d still been able to play, but
the night before had been her worst. Joseph’s tastes were becoming more vile, more depraved. He’d violated her in ways no man should
be allowed, had torn at parts of her body, had chained her and gagged her, and
he had done so while telling her he loved her still, and that in time, when she
was fat with his child, she’d remember the promises made on their wedding
night, their past desire for a child they could call their own. She knew he was sick; that his mind had
twisted into something foreign and dark – a place from which there was
little hope of return.
She’d grown numb to the abuse, to the added insult of his
spoken words of love. Reaching a
point where death was welcomed, she secretly hoped he would go too far, choking
her free of her life, instead of just into unconsciousness.
Each morning that she woke up, she forced herself from bed
and out into the living room. After
the first week, she’d noticed how Connor’s eyes would seek out new injuries,
how they would hood over and darken when he’d found what he sought. He’d said nothing to her about it,
hadn’t made a move to approach her in the weeks that Joseph’s abuse had
occurred; so, when a deep voice spoke softly behind her while she sat playing
that one key, she startled before turning to look into the eyes of emerald and
jade that shimmered in light and were made brilliant against tan skinned and
black hair.
“I’m sure you’ve heard this many times in your life, but you
play beautifully.”
She blinked in surprise, not having expected a compliment
from the strong and silent guard in the room. Her eyes lowered to the floor, the
intensity of his stare too much for her at that moment. She felt exposed, raw, and ashamed after
the nights she’d spent with Joseph over the past few weeks. “Thanks, I
guess.” Turning back to the piano,
she lifted her hands as if to finally play, but the only thing that fell on the
ivory keys were the tears she could no longer contain.
The soft sound of boots against stone tile was the only
warning
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