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With a violently shaking hand, I tried to soothe him with a tender touch to his face. But then his mouth spun to greet my fingers, biting down, excruciatingly hard.
I screamed out as teeth forced their way through my flesh.
Then this man roared in my face as if he hated me more than his worst enemy. “What did I tell you?”
If I didn’t answer him, he would kill me where I stood, so I ignored the blood dripping from the dreadful wound on my hand and tried to still my quaking voice. “Y-You said I either live with you…” I tried to catch the breath stolen by agony and the notion this man ever treasured me at all. “O-Or die by you.”
I hadn’t retracted my injured hand when he pulled it to his face and smeared my blood on his skin—cheek, forehead, and chin—making him appear absolutely unsettling.
Crimson ran down his face, and his eyes rolled back in his head while he moaned, “I can almost taste your death. It’s so close, Tierney.” He slipped a finger of mine into his mouth and sucked.
I muffled my scream of pain and injustice to his cruelty.
After he tortured my wound, Stain yanked my finger from his mouth and forced his mouth to my horrified one.
His tongue pushed my blood upon mine before he gently asked, “Can you taste it, too, you stupid bitch?”
Refusing to swallow my blood and his saliva, both dripped from my bottom lip. “I taste a man who’s forgotten how to love me.”
Affectionately, he was suddenly holding me, his shoulder pressing against my neck to the point it cut off my air supply, while he pleaded, “Why did you leave me?”
Forcing air into my restrained windpipe, I coughed out, “You were jealous of my sister.”
His movements, actions, and emotions were so volatile, leaving me feeling like I was on an old wooden ship during a violent storm. Hence, my head and my hair being yanked in two angry fists. The flashlight, after hitting the floor, rolled away to face us and shone on my face as Stain jostled my head. “I envy no one!”
Grimacing, as the strained hair roots already ached from the hit against the block wall moments ago, I suddenly heard Legend’s past words, “Shit is fucked up because fucked up shit happens.” Then I heard more of his wisdom, “His ‘love’ sounds more like hostile tyranny.”
To see my abuser as what he truly was, was an unexpected gift. A life lesson found.
My heart sighed… Thank you, Legend.
Staring back at the thinner face that used to be attractive to me but now appeared evil, I sneered, “If you’re going to kill me, get crackin’ and stop with these lies. I am Fiery Tierney, and she don’t want to look at your face for one more second, Stain.”
Unlike mine, unlike Legend’s, Stain’s path lacked the authenticity of a courageous man or woman. I was done with his bullshit and vowed to face death with pride in my Irish spirit.
In the dark shadows of the basement, his voice calmed. “I’ve missed you.”
Pfft! “Oh yeah? Some welcome party you’ve given me.”
Hands seductively slipped to my hips and gave a tender squeeze. “You know how irritated I get when not properly fucked.”
My body stilled. The thought of having sex with Stain made me nauseous. “Not my problem anymore.”
Smirking and then kissing under my chin, he worked the buckle on my jeans while cooing, “Now, baby, don’t play hard to get. Give me what I need.”
As Stain had said, I was going to live with him or die by him. But there was no living with Stain. Only surviving one manic moment to the next.
I’d rather die.
“No.”
His lips stopped moving against my skin.
Ready for a knife to gut me or a bullet to snuff out my life, I was surprised when the basement door opened instead.
Sting came skipping into the tragic room like a little child happy about a balloon in his grasp, except it wasn’t round latex in his hand.
It was my journal.
