Rage was fuming from the man; he was almost possessed by some kind of demon, eyes bloodshot, his hands in the air while he kept storming back and forth, trashing profanities. As he crouched to level up with the sitting figure trembling in fear, the delicate silhouette kept moving back, trying to escape from the grasp of an unleashed beast. Still, it seemed of no use, the space was running out, leaving behind no escape route to be found but only a cold wall; the man as well had no intentions of letting go of his plans, and that made out of the scheme destiny was sewing, a success.

The sky seemed angry; the rumbling storm wasn't taking the name of God while pouring the tears of a sad nature, crying instead of souls whose tears had already dried. It was such a cold winter night; the wind threatened to break anything in its way, ready to destroy it all, good and bad. The lamps in the street kept flickering on and off, only adding darkness to the raven night; it was like a scene from the beginning of a horror movie, something you'd avoid watching while alone at home, afraid that a mysterious creature would pop out of nowhere, and haunt you down while feeling like a hostage of darkness.

Heavy breathing, and muffled screams, as his hand circled the neck of the person whom he was torturing without clemency, his grasp on the delicate skin became more assertive, and his eyes held a great sense of amusement looking at the person in front of him, almost losing their breaths, almost sighing the remaining of their soul. The person begged while fighting for their life, their hands hitting his sturdy chest with all their might, their feet rocking up and down consecutively as they tried to create an escape momentum. It was all in vain, the beast was more potent, and the sole purpose of his hold on your neck was to kill you.

The dimmed lights inside the room made it difficult for you to see your propinquities; his strong grasp suppressed your voice, you wanted to scream and ask for help, but you couldn't, and you knew that no one would come to rescue you in all cases, the mansion was big, who would hear you despite his guards? Do you really think they will come to help you while he's the one to sign their checks at the end of the month? You must be really naive.

Another lightening in the sky, along with a strong wind wave that has pushed the curtains each to a separate side, sending some light into the almost dark room, a light that has helped you to see the devilish look inside his orbs, which has sent shivers down your spine, you could swear you saw demons inside those eyes, you saw the amount of rage indeed and hate in his countenance, the tears inside your eyes kept escaping and storming out in your stead. In contrast, you kept being captive by his hold.

When you surrendered yourself to your definite death, closing your eyes, your life flashed like a movie in the field of vision made by your sub-conscience.
All the beautiful memories you had with your friends and family, the love you shared with your now ripper, the sweet memories from your first encounter until the moment he finally proposed.

The memory that had followed had a significant impact on you; it made you reminisce the long gone past, the image from that beautiful and happiest day in your life, when you entered the aisle holding your father's arm, wearing that beautiful white dress your mother helped you pick after long days visiting almost every bridal boutique. Her choice was definitely a success; you looked like a queen, let alone a princess; yes, you were a queen, his queen, as he always told you. His eyes sparkled when they met your figure, the long veil that kept brushing the ground while following you gave you a royal aura. While that beautiful crown your designer insisted on adding into the accessories of your big day, which for you was useless and only heaved on your head, made out of you a mesmerizing creature that seemed like some unrealistic character in one of the books you loved reading in your free time, you seemed like Henrietta Maria. Still, you wished your marriage won't be tragic like the one she had with King Charles I.

Your moves halted, but your brain kept sending you trailers of that clip made out of memories in your head, only urging more tears to storm down your face hydrating your dry and purple lips.

Your airways started burning from the lack of oxygen, your eyes began seeing sparkles of black followed by flashy white dots, and a significant pressure on your head which made you feel like it would explode at any second; you decided to leave your prayers on hold, in all cases it seemed like God has already left your side, and for you, it seemed like he had never been there, to begin with, you remembered the last time you had prayed and begged the almighty to save your sister from that illness, the next day she was already dead, it seemed like your prayers had some opposite effect, or they were not at all heard, or maybe, heard but not took in consideration.

It was then when the rumbling sound got higher; it made you cringe as it added more fear into your heart; little did you know that it saved you when his grasp seemed to soften around your neck, or at least, it had delayed the moment of your execution a second or more.

His change of demeanor added a mix of angst and trepidation in your heart, you were lost, and you couldn't decipher nor predict his following action when his callous hand brushed against the soft skin of your jaw, all the way to your cheek where it has landed resting for a minute or so, his thumb softly wiping the tears while others kept coming urging him to repeat his action.

It took your body a few seconds to start reacting as a consequence of the oxygen deprivation you have faced, coughing and panting hardly while fighting the burning feeling you had in your soar throat by swallowing the saliva that has been mixed with your salty tears, your feet gave up on you as you fell on your knees still trying desperately to regain your erratic breaths. He stood there musing at your despair, a smirk drawn on his plump lips; he felt ecstatic while witnessing your sufferance; it gave him a pleasure he could feel with no one besides you, a mix between hate and lust, something that generally shouldn't be described erotic. Still, it definitely made him feel some type of way watching your cleavage from the ripped shirt rocking up and down, although he just had his way with you earlier, obviously without your accord; as usual, the short session seemed not enough for him, and how could it be? You were on your defenses, forbidding him to taste your lips; the brat in you acted out of the line way too much for his liking, which led you to this situation you were in. Couldn't you just accept your fate and act along like you did every time? Was it necessary to open the hell's door in front of you?

Really, why?

Crouching down to meet your level, his hand patting your shoulder made it seem like he was mocking your distress. For a moment, your strong self decided to make an appearance; when your brain gave you the insensible idea to meet his gaze while yours was shooting daggers, it was full of loath and reprehension, which has awoken again the beast that has just taken a leave from his side, urging him to resume whatever he had in his brain or maybe to start some other type of torture, as it seemed like you haven't learned your lesson, which has made him keen to teach you another time, in all cases he had the time at his disposal, not to mention that teaching you was a great pleasure for him, always.

Your skin started burning from the strong impact his huge hand had left on your delicate face; the sound of that slap echoed through the silent room that was only filled with your sobs; it was strong enough leaving your lips bleeding as an aftermath, making you taste the metallic flavor that found it way to your taste buds. Your head faced the other way from the strength he used, your hand landed on your cheek, attempting to soothe the burning sensation that had taken you off guard; your eyes kept lingering on the floor, almost studying the pattern of the marbled pavement, until his hand found it way to your raven locks, pulling it strongly making you hiss in unbearable pain, motioning you to stand up if you want to protect your scalp and hair from being ripped out from your head, your feet have no leftover strength, which made it difficult to follow his lead, looking at you sternly, he decided to drag you on the floor from your hair, your hands were begging for his mercy in your stead when they clung on his arm almost pleading to let go of the painful grasp he has on your tresses.

It seemed like his intention was to drag you to the bed, but hearing your screams, which added fuel to his fire, he decided to punish you wisely before proceeding with his plan.

He dragged you out to the porch, where some extreme weather conditions were at your await; your hand kept forcing the halt of the momentum, as it kept holding dearly on the door that led to the balcony, which only added more of his pressure on your scalp, more pain to your present one, more despair to the one you were suffering from. You sure have your ways of making it difficult for yourself.

But you have all the rights to protest; saying that you were poorly treated would be an understatement, you were abused, both physically and emotionally, that torture has lasted for more than you could remember. At a certain point, you've lost count even, really though, when it has all started? Why has it gone that way, where it has taken that kind of roundabout?

You were unaware, both about the reasons and the time it had all started, however now, it all seemed irrelevant; you'd gain absolutely nothing from starting a mental investigation in that regard; the situation won't change even if you'd do, you both reached a non-return intersection.

" Love, you don't want me to force you, do you? I suggest you drop the act before I lose the remaining of my patience, which by the way, isn't that much."

" Why just tell me why; what have I done to deserve all of this?"

The man finally loosened his grasp on your poor hair; you will definitely face some hair loss if you escape death tonight. His arms across his chest while a big simper adorned his plump lips, his eyes never stopped mocking you but also scrutinizing you, like some hungry predator enjoying the sufferance of his prey. He went on his knees, leveling with you. At the same time, his hand found its way to your chin to hold on to it firmly, forcing your gaze that has shifted from him to your right, looking at that vase that was sitting on the nightstand, he needed your concentration on him, he also hated when your eyes escaped from his sight, they reminded him of your defiance and disobedience that knew no limits.

" Why? Are you seriously asking about that? Oh my dear y/n, sometimes I wonder where your intelligence went; your brain was adding sexiness to your appearance before it became dull, giving you stupid ideas to show your rude behavior."

" Until when will you stay captive of the past? Can't you see that is doing you no good? You've turned into a monster; I don't know you anymore. You're a mere stranger to me now."

"You should have considered all the eventual consequences before; it's way too late now to cry over spilled milk."

"Just empty your gun in my head then, kill me and break free from all of this; you know we can't rewind the past, we can't change anything that has already taken place; ease your anger, KILL ME, I SAID."

It was a matter of seconds when you felt his hot breaths fanning your face. Also, it was at the speed of the light when you tried to escape from his presence; as you shifted around swiftly, your back facing the porch that was only a few steps behind you, your brain started giving you all kinds of ideas, from throwing yourself from that balcony, to throwing him ending your sufferance. Still, it all seemed unfeasible when he began strangling you again, your lungs were already sensitive, but he kept abusing them; the ripper started making a cameo in front of your eyes, you felt the approach of your last moments nearing, but you were not ready to die, you were convinced that you deserved better from this life, you couldn't even give up on that miserable life you were leading. However, you were more than ready to start a life without him in it; your guts were drawing pictures in your head, calling out bravery in you that had never existed before, luring you to some dreadful acts.

And you followed your demons.

A/N: Dear readers, any guesses about who that man could be? Nah, wrong; it was not Taehyung so give it another shot. Anyways, please show some love to this ff, and I promise I'll do my best to provide a good story for you. I'm counting on your votes if you like it.

With much love, I would like to thank you in advance for giving a chance to this book 😘

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