A serious warning to readers, please read with caution!

A sharp ringing overtook my senses everything around me was blurred. My body screamed at the agonising pain it was drowning in as I walked I could feel him behind me, the darkness that radiated off him tightening my lungs. At least I had stopped crying desperately trying to bring back the voice of my sister and get myself out of this but I failed to think straight. I could barely walk straight, my new found wound didn't make it way either.

His presence was overwhelming. I didn't dare turn back but I felt him behind me, he was deadly calm. I wondered how in the world this was happening. How in the world were men like him allowed to exist. The official's had no authority over him, he has proved that. Where did that place me? Who would come to my aid? Who would I cry to? Who would I run to?

I looked at the door, I didn't want to enter, battered and barely able to walk with the rippling pain that has now took over my entire leg I stopped, before I could say anything there were no exchange of words as I was dragged once more. I found my voice. He was still silent easily overpowering me and making me feel like a powerless toy. The power I put into trying to fight against him seemed nonexistent —his powerful grip grounded me. There wasn't even a single sign of struggle from him.

We entered our room back to the scene of the crime, —my pathetic excuse of an escape rerunning on my mind —I had let my anger get the best of me, it wasn't part of the plan —my stomach twisted as I bit my lip trying to stop my frantic crys, that did nothing to him— I feared what he would do to me. His silence made millions of dark promises in my mind, cradling it in the process. I wished I could just simply become unresponsive in his arms. I couldn't take pain or torture which I knew is what he would do to me.

He easily landed me on my feet as we reached the balcony making me face him, nothing— there was nothing aside from darkness in his eyes, no emotion whatsoever.

"I would like to see you fly again —fucking Spider-Man." His words were coated with his thick accent his voice deep, even though my ears had been ringing and my world was spinning when he spoke everything immediately stopped his authoritative voice commanding even the air around us. Before I knew it he easily threw me off the balcony a rippling scream burned my lungs as I hit the hard cemented ground, my entire body taking the painful hit, I screamed as I felt the force of impact, something was broken.

My blurry vision searched my body slowly as I using the last of my energy —I couldn't move, my heart sank  as I looked at my leg that was either dislocated or broken. I couldn't stop the silent cry's that my body reduced me to because of the possessive pain, I could feel the warm thick liquid coming from my head. I felt as if was crying actual blood. The pain was indescribable.

I blinked unable to move, my vision still blurry, as I tried to find to strength to move, my eyes closing on their own as I tried to keep them open. He was going to kill me. I opened my eyes seeing him walking towards me in a distance, in no haste as he watched me still nothing in his eyes. The closer he got the more panic my body drowned in as it tried to move back, I shook my head a mess. Within a second I was dragged back upstairs I started screaming yet again when I realised we were heading back to our room, he was leading me back to the balcony and my body began to panic.

Lachlan wasn't sane in any way, he had proven this to me time and time again and ever since I have got here I tried and made sure to not make him mad. In this moment I would have liked to say I have read enough dark romance books to know what not to do but I failed —books and real life were two different things. A written psychopath is haunting, but confined to pages. In real life, — nothing confines them. His eyes were empty, he had no soul. I looked at the ground below practically tasting it as I shivered my body frozen terrified.

I hesitantly raised my gaze , tried to look at him clutching onto his shirt with my scraped and battered hands, as I peeked up at him, I felt all the oxygen leave my body as I looked into the terrifying green in his dark eyes- it somehow embodied death and evil itself. I trembled, as I tried to put sentences together asking for forgiveness— barely able to make out words.. I could feel the blood oozing from the side of my scalp.

I didn't understand. My mind was fractured, irreparable—like shards of broken glass cutting into my soul. The thought that not so long ago I wanted nothing but him, despite everything he had done to me, haunted me. I didn't forget, even when I tried. You can't simply erase trauma. It etches itself into you, deep and jagged, impossible to smooth away. But despite the pain, despite the fear, I couldn't help it—I was bound to him. Lachlan broke me, shattered me, and rebuilt me for himself. And it worked.

At first I had been so convinced that he hated me but if I'm being honest he didn't— this was his definition of love- his love was so painful— sick and twisted. I didn't want it. I called it a sick obsession he called it love. It didn't matter what it was labelled what I did know is that I didn't want it. He thought he loved me. Perhaps, in some dark, fractured corner of his mind, he truly believed he did. But it didn't matter what it was called. What I knew—what I felt—was that I didn't want it. And yet, I couldn't forget the pieces of him that felt almost human, the moments that confused me, that made me question if there was something salvageable beneath the monster. I remember at one point I wanted to save him I almost sobbed at the thought. It was being gullible mixed with delusion, I was grasping at straws of survival.

This was the same man who would come back from work even though tired get up and drive me around until I slept just because I couldn't sleep. When Lachlan worked out late no matter what —if the weather forecasts rain he would come back early when it starts to rain he was with me in case I wanted a night drive or just simply to be driven around in the rain, which was what happened most of the time. He'd circle the city endlessly, letting me ramble until my voice gave out, or simply drive in silence while I watched the rain streak across the windows.

All his cars now had a soft throw and pillow, whichever car I chose for that particular night drive everything was always already there —already prepared.

This was the same man who built me a rain room because even though I loved the night drives I wanted it to rain every night and he made that possible. The same man who prioritised my periods more than myself —cravings, food and movement wise. My cravings were catered to without hesitation, and he'd make sure I was comfortable in ways I hadn't even thought to prioritize myself.

He remembered my favorite songs- the man didn't care for music it was just something else to him yet he remembered every single song I liked or mentioned in passing, the scent of lavender that calmed me, and even the specific shade of light I liked in the evenings. He carried bandages for me when I got paper cuts, and once spent hours untangling my hair after a rough day when I couldn't muster the energy to do it myself.

These memories weren't comforting—they made me resent him more. His actions blurred the line between love and control, between care and obsession. He didn't know how to love, not in the way a normal person would. But I had come to understand that he didn't hate me. I wished he did. Hatred would have been simpler, easier to process. Oh how I prayed for his hatred. I didn't want his love -it was painful, obsessive and traumatic, he loved me with a ferocity that consumed everything it touched.

I didn't want his love.

If I somehow survive I never wanted to be with any other man, I wanted to just be with my family which is my friends and my sister. Actually I could not think of a world without Lachlan even when I do manage to conjure it up there was always that fear lurking around even in my dreams. — Even when I tried to get away from him in my own head I still failed.

"Lach-Lachlan—" I was barely able to let out his name it felt like lava on my throat. "I-I am I am -I'm sorr-sorry. -Please -I can explain-I." My words were rushed and trembling the urgency of the situation gnawing at my soul. The words ringing in my head— he will kill me.

He moved back making me jump, he produced his gun, for a second I forgot how to breathe with my nose as tears ran down my face, my chest moving up and down in fear. I held out my hands. A natural response a surge of panic rushing through me before I realised my situation— the thought of never seeing my sister ever again scared me —but at the same time I hoped he would make it quick.

I watched him easily take it apart, throwing it across the room— instead of relief I felt fear— consuming fear. He was close to me towering over me as I looked at his chest unable to look into his eyes. "The temptation to put a bullet through your head is far too great, If you end up dead I would rather my hands be the cause of it, plus bullets are not good for the baby.— Now as you play superhero if anything happens to my wee one—." He paused a dark chuckled vibrating through his chest as it rippled shivers through my body goosebumps all over my body. "I will fucking feed your sister to you." His voice sent tremors through my body, his eyes completely changing so did his demeanour. His words were final, a death sentence for anything I might've hoped to escape.

What baby?! His baby?!

Before I could try and reason with him —my thoughts were cut off as I screamed— my body easily flung off the balcony my arms protectively wrapped around my stomach— not to protect it- the said baby but because I was petrified of what would happen if anything did happen to said baby even though part of me wished I would die with it. He would make it worse.

The ground rushed up to meet me, and I braced for impact. My body hit hard, and an explosion of pain radiated through me as I rolled against the paved ground below the balcony. Every bone, every muscle screamed in protest. The breath was knocked out of me, leaving me gasping, choking on sobs that caught in my throat. I could barely breathe.

I lay there for a moment, trembling, tears streaming down my face as I struggled to make sense of anything—everything. The sharp tang of blood filled my mouth, and a dull ache pulsed from my stomach. I couldn't tell if it was from my protective grip or something worse.

My mind splintered under the weight of the truth. A baby. His baby.

I didn't know how to feel. Horror? Rage? Or was it something darker? My body convulsed with sobs, but I wasn't sure what I was crying for—myself, the child I didn't want, or the life I no longer had control over— final nail to the coffin. I felt like the last thread of sanity I had finally snapped.

I couldn't dwell on the so called pregnancy right now I just wanted him to stop. I didn't even suspect pregnancy when my appetite changed or when I started throwing up those were my normal symptoms from time to time it had months intervals and I could never really bet on it because it was different every time, whether during or after my periods and I didn't really think I would get pregnant— at a young age the doctor made it clear that I didn't have the normal female reproductive system there were complications and I wasn't really moved.

I felt the oxygen slowly begin to be toxic to my lungs. -A baby.

I couldn't move, I couldn't properly see what was going on around me but I felt him close to me again my body's response evidence of his proximity — the cold that was slowly creeping in not a factor but just his presence. The soft sounds coming out of my mouth felt far—as if I was hiding at the back of my mind and watching my body from the corner.

Fragments of time slipped through my grasp, like grains of sand in a storm. I could barely piece together the momentary as I drifted in and out of consciousness. The silence was deafening, broken only by soft, ragged sobs—mine. They were the only proof I was still alive, that my hearing hadn't been stolen along with my strength.

I didn't even realize we had reached the balcony until I felt it—the sickening weightlessness as my body was flung into the air once again. The sensation was almost dreamlike, except for the sharp, gnawing pain that tied me to reality. My arms instinctively wrapped around my stomach, a futile act of self-preservation for a child I didn't even want.

I was too weak to scream, my mouth open but silent, as my body collided with the cold, unforgiving cement. The impact sent shockwaves of agony ripping through me, and I felt my consciousness slipping. The world around me faded into darkness, a cruel mercy I welcomed. I prayed to never wake up, to be free of this nightmare, to let the pain be my final memory.

But life is never that kind.

My eyes fluttered open, and immediately, tears spilled down my cheeks as an unbearable pain seared through every nerve in my body.

...

My eyes painfully fluttered open after minutes of fighting my body, tears immediately left them at the excruciating pain that took over my senses I could not properly see, the pain was blinding, paralyzing, and consuming. I wanted to scream, to let the agony out, but my voice failed me. Instead, I swallowed my cries, my throat tight with the effort to stay silent. It took me a moment to realize I was sitting in a chair, my body limp and unresponsive. My blurred vision adjusted enough for me to see the faint outlines of trees—the ones I used to admire from the safety of his house. They looked so serene, so far removed from the chaos of my existence.

I had lost time.

The hairs at the back of my neck stood up and goosebumps covered my body, his sudden presence was overwhelming. I panicked quietly, my body shaking with the memory of his hands, his cruelty, the scars he had carved into me both physically and emotionally. My trembling fingers brushed against the evident nail marks still etched into my palms, the scar a brutal reminder of what he was capable of.

Even if I tried he won't listen.

Everything was blurry even if I tried blinking my eyes it was still blurry my eyes couldn't stop crying. He was close.

"You are finally up love." His thick accent coating every word. At other times although I hated to admit it when he called me that or used his native tongue to refer to me, it made my insides warm but this time around my heart plummeted. I could feel the panic in my bones.

"It seems you have mistaken me for your fucking friends Isla." His tone was eerily calm, devoid of any malice, but his presence alone suffocated me. It wasn't the words themselves that terrified me—it was the way he said them, so matter-of-fact, like this was just another chore to be done. His aura was suffused with menace, making it clear I had no say in the matter.

"Personally I would have preferred cutting your tongue piece by piece and then feeding it to you but now I have restrictions, I have to think about what's best for my wee one." He said as if it was the most normal thing on this earth. I could barely see him but I felt movement and I felt his gaze on my stomach. His words were ice cold water over my body as I tried to open my eyes wider, but they were too swollen, the pain too much. Blinking through the haze of tears and stinging flesh, I forced myself to focus not on the fear. My insides screamed at me to move, to run, but I was rooted to the chair, every muscle frozen with terror.

"L-Lachlan—you—you're going to kill me—and the baby. Do you not want the baby?" My voice broke as the words tumbled out, desperate and raw. If using the baby's life could stop this, I would do it. I had to. The pain was unbearable, a searing, endless torment that threatened to drown me.

"Don't refer to my baby as if it's some object, Isla," he said, his voice low and eerily calm, the kind of calm that makes your stomach twist. The warning was clear, and his icy gaze cut through me like a blade. I sobbed harder, shaking my head, trying to correct myself through my trembling lips.

"-Our-our baby." My own words brought me paralysing fear as they sunk in my eyes on the man who would take my life, if not now someday. At the same time I feared he would refuse me death.

"They are a O'Sullivan, they will survive." That was the end of it. I wanted to scream, there was no way out of this no way of getting to him because he wasn't human. I knew he was done with the conversation.

My trembling hands brushed against my face as I wiped at the tears, desperate to clear my vision. I needed to see him, to see what he was planning. My blood turned to ice when my gaze landed on the object in his hands—a needle, long and sharp, glinting in the faint light. Attached to it was a thick thread, I pleaded with God to wake me up from this nightmare.

I couldn't breathe. The sky tilted, my vision tunneling as my mind raced to catch up with the reality before me. I was petrified to ask what he planned on doing with it even though I had an idea. I cursed the day I was born. Nothing mattered anymore I just wanted to be away from him.

"I-I promise to never to speak to you like that ever again. I'm -I am-I - Lachlan please." I stammered barely audible. "Please you-you have given me so much of trauma and hurt me so-so-so much -I am so sorry. I ne-will never-I will never do it again. Please don't -please." I prayed for his forgiveness, I couldn't stop trying to bargain knowing what was coming anyone would be petrified. Beads of sweat accumulated down my forehead and my rib cage fought for stance against my heart.  I could feel my fear run deeper. A part of me still couldn't believe what was happening - couldn't believe the existence of such brutality.

"By all means, Isla, run if you wish. I won't tie you up. But if you move, I'll cut your mouth open and start over. If you disturb the stitching, I'll cut your mouth open and start over. Do you understand?" I nodded my head sobs taking over my form my entire body under unprecedented pain. He had a way of making everything worse, of amplifying every ounce of fear until I felt hollowed out, devoid of hope. He was pure evil.

I watched, paralysed.  A scream clawed its way up my throat, and my body shook as I pressed my nails into my thighs, bracing myself.

I should have never came to this country.

The needle pierced my lips, and a blinding, searing pain erupted, consuming me entirely— every inch of my body. It felt like fire and ice, like my nerves were being shredded one by one. My muffled scream tore through my chest, trapped behind clenched teeth that felt like would shatter at any minute from the amount of pressure I was putting on them. I pressed my trembling hand into the bullet wound on my side, hoping the sharp, raw agony would distract me. It didn't.

'Lord —please save me. No one else can. Just this one time.'

I pleased with him with my eyes— I knew he wouldn't stop but it was my body's response. I was in so much of pain. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth, mixing with the salt of my tears. Warm rivulets trickled down my chin, smearing across my skin as he worked. His movements were steady, horrifyingly precise, as though he were sewing fabric, not flesh.

I risked a glance at him, my eyelids fluttering against the weight of my fear. His face was infuriatingly calm, cold and detached as though this monstrous act was just another item on his to-do list. He wasn't human—he couldn't be. No soul could possess such horrifying indifference to another's suffering.

My mind was a whirlwind of despair and disbelief. Why? Why was he doing this? What kind of evil drove a man to these lengths? The world blurred through my tears, the edges of my vision threatening to close in. To call him a psychopath felt like nothing— a walk in the park— child's play. The word wasn't sufficient.

A muffled scream tore at my throat again, but my jaw was locked so tightly I thought my teeth might shatter. Each new stitch burned worse than the last, the thread pulling my lips together like the closing of a wound that would never truly heal. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, the copper taste of blood flooding my mouth as I begged silently to anyone who might hear.

To God, whom I searched for every day. To a world that seemed impossibly distant.

I wished for death—release, mercy. My body shook violently, my muscles spasming as I tried to hold myself still. I knew better than to move. I knew better than to defy him.

Every prick of the needle, every pull of the thread, was a fresh wave of excruciating pain. The cold metal felt alive, I could feel it go through my skin over and over again followed by the thread. I could have never imagined such pain not even in my worst nightmares. Now— now I only prayed for death. Despite my deep sobs that were locked into my chest coming from the bottom of my stomach he was unbothered. My throat burned.

And still, he worked. Calm. Unhurried. Detached.

I got to a point where I couldn't scream anymore; my voice was shredded, raw and broken. My chest heaved, and the vibrations of my silent sobs rattle through my ribcage. I wasn't just trembling—I was shaking uncontrollably inside, my body trying to betray the stillness I was trying so hard to maintain. I couldn't do it. I couldn't endure this. But the alternative—the wrath in his eyes should I resist—kept me frozen.

When the last stitch was in place, he finally stepped back, admiring his work with an eerie satisfaction. My blood all over his hands, it was dripping down my chin, pooling onto my chest, and my lips and eyes throbbed in time with the frantic beating of my heart. My body only now being able to slightly move at the hiccups that slightly shook it. I could feel the warm thick liquid leaving a crimson colour where it passed, my mouth was threaded shut.

Hard sobs wrecked my body at the pain that washed over me, uncontrollable sobs that produced no sound, I froze lulling myself with my hands as I felt my mouth tear a bit from my ferocious sobs unable to bear the excruciating pain instead I bit on my tongue to keep myself from inflicting any more pain on myself my entire mouth was filled with blood. Afraid I would choke and rip my mouth open I swallowed it my senses barely able to surpass the pain to retain information. I couldn't move, I could only feel the tears searing down my face. I didn't to dare look him — couldn't look at him.

What did I ever do to this man. I didn't want this — why me. I felt like I couldn't breathe, like the air around me had been sucked out, leaving me gasping for relief that would never come. I couldn't understand the lengths of this evil. I couldn't understand why.

And in that moment, I realized I was ready to take my own life.

The thought settled over me like a dark, calm blanket, smothering the hysteria threatening to consume me. If this was my life—if this was the endless agony I was destined to endure—then maybe I didn't want it anymore.

I wanted to disappear but the thought of being far from him terrified me. I never wanted him to hurt me ever again I never wanted to make him mad ever again I just wanted to cease to exist. I wouldn't run — I didn't want to and I didn't think my body could physical even begin to try, I just wanted to die.

Ringing was all I could hear, I felt there was just a bomb explosion and my ears were recovering from the sound. The air was heavy with the scent of blood and despair. He turned away, his calm demeanor unshaken, and I could barely look at him, trembling, tears streaking my cheeks.

My body uncontrollably shook as my eyes now made out the whip in his hands. Had he not done enough. I prayed for words to say to calm him down— to convince him to forgive me. Anything to be out of this situation. I prayed for a miracle because I could not take anymore pain yes I wanted to die but —not like this I couldn't take anymore pain. Lachlan has shown me a level of pain that I truly believed that the human body wasn't suppose to reach or wasn't designed to reach. He surpasses himself every time.

"You planned on running right, now run," he said calmly, his voice devoid of emotion. "If I catch you, I can assure you— I will tear your mouth open and the stitch it back shut."

'My mom said you listen to every prayer please listen to mine. I can't take any more of this."

I stumbled to my feet, hands trembling, blood slicking my skin— I knew he would not repeat himself. Everything hurt, every nerve afire with raw pain. And yet I had no choice—I had to run— with a limp I was convinced I would have to cut off my wounded leg — I couldn't stand I spent a minute trying to pull myself together— I kept on falling. I crawled pushing myself up knowing he wouldn't repeat himself.

I looked through the trees ahead, trying to figure out where I would hide, where I would go were he wouldn't catch me, vision blurred by tears, but I dared not look back at the empty, soulless eyes watching me from behind as I trembling now on the ground trying to pick myself up. My head felt heavy and I felt darkness creeping in. I tried to fight it I couldn't afford to pass out, I needed to run. My body was out of touch with my senses as I cried on the ground now begging myself to run and not pass out. I finally stood with my weak attempts of running.

I heard it before I felt it. The sound of tearing flesh reached my ears, sharp and nauseating, followed by a searing pain that ripped through my mouth. A scream erupted from deep within me, raw and guttural, as the stitches Lachlan had so meticulously placed began to loosen under the force of my sobs. my heart raced and my body felt cold— my vision was pitch black as pain consumed my body. He was going to rip them out. He wanted me to feel every second of it.

Before I could process what was happening, I was on the ground, crumpled and trembling. My body convulsed violently, every nerve screaming in protest. I couldn't take it anymore. My mind fractured, clinging desperately to the only thing left to me—prayer.

He wins.

The sound was distant, like an echo in a vast, empty cavern. I felt a presence above me, a figure leaning over my broken body. My muffled cries turned into frantic, incoherent pleas, my voice barely audible through the tattered remains of my lips.

"Please Lord."

I recoiled instinctively, curling into a fetal position as tightly as I could, wrapping my arms around myself as if they could shield me from whatever was coming. My tears soaked the cold, unyielding floor beneath me, and I cried harder, my body shaking uncontrollably. I knew I couldn't get away from him even I tried my body shut down. I couldn't bring it to run from him.

Then, I felt it. Hands. Soft, warm, and protective, wrapping around me like a fragile cocoon. For a fleeting moment, hope flickered within me, only to be extinguished as quickly as it appeared. I recognized the scent—her scent. His mother.

"You promised you'd speak to her—go easy on her, Lachlan," his mother urged, her voice soft trembling with restraint. As if she knew to thread lightly.

He exhaled slowly, his tone unnervingly calm. "This is easy, Mother. You're interrupting us."

There was no malice, no anger—just a terrifying stillness, as if he were stating an unchangeable fact of nature. His words were distant, dissolving into the low, steady buzz in my head. The pain was endless, methodical, like I was being unmade piece by piece, and he was merely observing, untouched by the chaos he'd created.

Even in her arms, safety was an illusion. I knew Lachlan. I knew the monster he was, the darkness that resided in him. Nothing could stop him, not even her. My body wouldn't stop trembling, and I didn't dare open my eyes. I shut out the world and let the suffocating blackness take over, praying I wouldn't wake up again.

...

Tell me what y'all think.

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