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“I’ll visit whenever I fucking want. And I won’t stop until you stop fucking breathing!” His aggressive words terrified me. His hands terrified me, too, moving back to my throat.
I didn’t want to fight. I tried begging first, but his fingers closed, and the words came out silent. “Remi, please—”
I had to fight, or I’d die here, beneath him.
The way he hovered over me left his crotch vulnerable. Taking advantage of that, I rammed my bony knee into it with a force that would have had any other man collapsing on top of me, but Remi wasn’t normal.
A hateful stare weighed me down. His fingers squeezed tighter, the grip bruising as I tried with desperation to pry him off.
I squeaked, unable to make any other sound, and he stopped dead.
“I can’t fucking kill you! Stop fucking saying shit like that! Stop taunting me!”
I hadn’t spoken.
He was fucking hearing something that wasn’t real. That voice in his head again—the one working against me.
He sat back, his legs on each side of me. His height invaded the light as he stretched to get something from his pocket—a small clear packet filled with white powder.
“No!” I reached for it because the last thing he needed in his deluded state was more drugs tainting his senses.
The bag danced between us, my nails stabbing through the plastic while his fingers pulled it away.
White powder spilled all over me, causing different emotions to flit between us. I was agitated, not wanting that shit anywhere near me. In contrast, disappointment and anger battled for the top spot in Remi.
“No…No!”
So much of the powdered drug blew away as he tried to get it back in the bag that he hadn’t even realized, was in pieces.
Wondering why that shit kept landing on me, he examined the bag. “It’s broken?”
It landed on the floor when he started shifting the drug into a line between my breasts with his fingers.
“Don’t you dare.”
My hands were pinned and stretched behind my head before I could push him away.
His nose met my skin, inhaling the line he’d formed on my body. It made me sick.
It wasn’t enough for him. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out rice treats and smelly bears for his waiting tongue.
“You know what, fuck it. Fuck everything. You don’t get to tell me no.”
He was going to do it. He was going to turn into one of them.
Or, so I thought.
Launching from the bed, he yelled with a pointed finger, “Get the fuck up and get dressed.”
He flung me into the wardrobe so fast I didn’t even have time to break the fall with my hands, my body colliding with thick wood. I fell to the floor, the door opened on impact, and a small pile of clothes landed on me.
The carpet burned me as Remi pulled me from the drawers, tossing an ugly pair of panties at me that hung on my hips since I lost so much weight.
He dragged them up my legs, then tossed his own sweatshirt at me. “On second thought, put that on. I don’t want you wearing any of his shit!”
He left the room, pulling the door open and letting it fall on my bed.
Dropping the sweatshirt he wanted me to wear. I ran to the bed. The oversized panties slipped down my legs as I took my final step.
