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Part : 10
Tittle : What did she do to deserve all this?...
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Quote : I knew I had done nothing wrong but still here I was, sitting on my knees helplessly...
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The days that followed bled into one another, each one a stark canvas of cruelty and pain for her. The raw agony in her abdomen and lower body gradually dulled to a persistent ache, a constant reminder of the violation. She could walk now, albeit with a lingering stiffness, but the freedom to run felt like a distant memory.
His indifference remained a constant, a cold shadow that clung to her every move. This morning, she had risen before dawn, her body stiff and sore, driven by the memory of the leather belt that had struck her back the previous day. Her crime? A delay in his breakfast, a tardiness that had apparently warranted physical punishment.
Now, a fragile hope flickered within her as she watched him descend the stairs. The table was already set, a silent offering of appeasement. He sniffed the aroma of the food, his nostrils flaring, and a low curse rumbled in his throat.
Without a word, he swept his arm across the table, sending the carefully prepared meal crashing to the floor. The fragrant dishes shattered, scattering food across the cold stone, a deliberate act of spite. A wave of despair washed over her. She had tried. She had done everything she could to avoid his wrath, yet it was never enough. A quiet resentment began to simmer beneath the surface of her fear. What had she done to deserve this? Why was he so intent on breaking her?
Even when his hand snaked into her hair, his grip tight and painful, and his voice roared in her ear, berating her for the very food he had just destroyed, she remained silent. Her gaze stayed fixed on the debris at her feet, tears silently tracing paths down her cheeks, a quiet testament to her broken spirit.
The vibrant hues of her former self had faded, leached away by the constant fear and cruelty. The playful spirit had delighted in the delicate beauty of flowers and the cleansing rhythm of the rain was gone, replaced by a hollow echo. The easy smiles that once graced her lips were now foreign memories. She was a fractured being, her very essence eroded by the monster she had, in a cruel twist of fate, come to love.
During the day, he was her tormentor, a figure of terrifying power. But when night fell and he succumbed to sleep, an unsettling transformation occurred. In his slumber, his features softened, the harsh lines of his face relaxing into an almost innocent tranquility. In those moments, he appeared the most peaceful thing in her desolate world, and she would often spend the long, dark hours simply watching him, a silent vigil fueled by a love that stubbornly refused to die.
He mistook her passive acceptance of his touch, the way she allowed him to hold her in his sleep, as a testament to her fear. But in the quiet darkness, a different truth resided within her. It was not fear alone that kept her still in his arms, but the lingering embers of an unconditional love, a love that clung to the ghost of the man she had once believed him to be.
When Jungkook awoke, the sight of her small hand gently clutching the fabric of his shirt, a gesture so reminiscent of a child seeking comfort, stirred something unfamiliar within his hardened heart. A fleeting softness, a pang he couldn't quite decipher, flickered within his chest. But he quickly banished the feeling, a scowl twisting his lips as he roughly pried her fingers from his shirt, a part of him resisting the act.
He rose abruptly and strode into the bathroom, the cold tiles a stark contrast to the lingering warmth of her touch on his shirt. And so, another day began, its dawn heralded by his brutal awakening of her. His hand snaked into her hair, yanking her head back, his voice a harsh command to stand.
She obeyed instantly, her body trembling but unresisting. Opposition was a futile gesture, a moth battling a raging fire. What power did she, a mere mortal, possess against a demon of his caliber? He was stronger, faster, capable of inflicting unimaginable pain. In this twisted dynamic, he held all the power, and she was left with nothing but obedience and a silent, enduring love that even his cruelty couldn't extinguish.
As dusk painted the sky in hues of bruised purple and angry orange, Jungkook settled onto the plush couch in the hall, a crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid clutched in his hand. She knelt silently at his feet, her movements careful as she poured him glass after glass of wine, her gaze fixed on the task.
A single droplet of the dark liquid escaped the bottle's lip, landing on the polished leather of his shoe. The sound of the slap echoed in the vast hall, a brutal punctuation to her small mistake. Without a word, she reached out, the hem of her simple frock her only tool, and wiped the offending drop from his shoe.
He scoffed, a harsh, dismissive sound. Then, his eyes, glazed with alcohol, flickered over her. "Entertain me," he slurred, the command laced with a dangerous edge. He was drunk, unpredictable, and she knew the precariousness of her situation. Confusion flickered across her face. "Dance," he elaborated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
With a sudden, violent movement, he hurled the empty wine bottle at the floor. It shattered into sharp, glittering fragments. He then hauled her roughly to her feet, his hand clamping possessively on her waist. He began to swirl her around the hall, his movements clumsy and forceful.
Her bare feet made contact with the treacherous shards of glass scattered across the floor. A sharp pain shot through her soles, but she made no sound, no whimper of protest. Her gaze remained locked on his face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears that slowly tracked down her pale cheeks, a silent testament to her unending torment.
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[Get ready,guys]
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