Beautifully Destroyed (Beautifully Broken)

God. No.

“I’m excited too, my love,” he murmurs, deluded into believing my struggles mean I’m excited. It seems to encourage him as he moves the scissors down to my shorts.

I lose track of time, my mind a racing mess, my chest fluttering from the panicked breaths I’m taking through my nose.

When he’s done cutting my clothes away from my body, I watch with burning eyes as he carefully tucks the fabric into a plastic bag.

Evidence. He’s taking it with him.

Shit.

I begin to wiggle in earnest, but when I see him remove a foil packet from the bag, overwhelming dread tightens every muscle in my body while an empty feeling sinks into my soul.

Help.

Anyone.

God, help me.

Horrified, I watch as he stands to his full length. He pushes down his pants, exposing his pelvis and thighs to me.

Seeing his erection and his clean-shaven skin, the nightmare overshadows any light I had in me. I shake my head wildly as he rolls on a condom.

His eyes settle on me, and I swear I can hear his smile in his voice as he says, “Next time, I’ll let you touch me. Okay?”

Next time?

I keep shaking my head as he lowers himself to his knees between my legs. The latex of the gloves seer my skin as he brushes his hands up my thighs before he lies down on top of me.

All I can smell is antiseptic fluid as a heavy weight starts to drag my soul down into the bowels of hell.

Not wanting to see him, I pinch my eyes shut. The mask brushes against my cheek, and I rip my face away from him. The plastic rubs over my skin, and I hear him take a deep breath.

“I’ll be gentle, my love. I promise.”

Sobs wrack through my chest, but no tears escape my tightly shut eyes.

I feel him position his erection at my entrance, and my sobs turn to shuddering shivers, ripping the air from my lungs in short, panicked bursts.

Daddy, I wish you were home.

I wish I was in Southport.

I wish I’d left sooner to help Quinn through her trauma, then I wouldn’t be here right now.

He pushes the blunt head of his erection into me.

Noooo!

My breathing stalls in my throat. My chest tightens painfully while panic and abhorrent destruction flay me to the bone, robbing me of my innocence.

He rests his forearms on either side of my head, pressing the mask against my cheek. “I love you so much. You have no idea what this means to me.”

His hips begin to rock against me as he slowly pushes deeper inside me. His weight keeps me anchored to the horrible moment.

I hear a wailing sound in my mind even though I’m holding my breath, not making any noise.

There’s a pinching sensation in my womb, and I try to take my mind to a safe place. But, unable to escape the depraved reality, I’m forced to stay present as he takes my virginity and starts to thrust harder.

Soft grunts come from him, the sound making bile burn in the back of my throat.

I hear his breaths.

I feel his body move against mine.

I hear the slap of skin.

And I wish I was deaf.

Time stretches around me, and the basement feels impossibly big.

His grunts grow louder, every thrust increasing the burning and pinching sensations inside me. He begins to jerk against me. “Oh, Finlay,” he gasps my name like a prayer in the throes of his release. “I love you so much.”

My soul cringes back until finally, it disappears into a black hole where there are no sounds.

I must’ve passed out from holding my breath. When I come to, I dart upright and wildly glance around me.

Confusion mixes with the horror coursing through my veins when I realize I’m in my bed. I glance down at my body, and taking in the pink tank top and white shorts, I begin to blink rapidly.

W-what?

I throw the covers off and scramble out of my bed. My heart thunders in my chest, breaths exploding over my lips. I dart out of my bedroom and rush down the stairs. Grabbing my phone off the kitchen counter, I run for the sliding doors, frantically glancing over my shoulder to make sure he’s not behind me. I burst out of the house and into the icy night air.

With trembling fingers, I dial 911, my eyes wildly darting around for any sign of him, fear creeping down my spine like nails on a chalkboard.

“Nine-one-one, what are you reporting?” A woman answers.

“I… I…” I keep glancing around me, then down at my clothes. “T-there was a m-man.”

“A man? Is he still there?”

“I don’t k-know.” My body begins to tremble as if there’s an earthquake beneath my feet. “He… he raped me.”

“What’s your name?” she asks, her tone gentler.

“F-Finlay D-Drake.”

“Finlay, are you alone?”

“I-I don’t know.” I can’t think, my eyes glued to the sliding doors. I peer into the darkness, expecting to see him any second.