Chapter 11

                                    

                                          
Is'haaq had been outside. He had been banging on the door for almost fifteen minutes before he walked off. 
                          
 She couldn't even call out for him.
                          
She was sore all over. And she was so tired of trying to undo that bastards knot.There was not a muscle on her body that didn't ache...
                          
Her front lock creaked once again. Slight clicks echoed throughout her flat before the knob turned and he opened the door. He turned back, his voice far away from her as she closed her eyes and turned her face into her pillow. 
                          
She didn't want to see him. 
                          
His hands were gentle on her wrist as he untied the rope that had bound her to her headboard, running his fingers gently over the deep red indents on her skin. 
                          
"Juri?" his fingers combed through her hair as the mattress dipped down beside her. 
                          
She turned her body to him, burying her head against the side of his thigh, desperately trying to hold on to him. 
                          
Hold on to something real. 
                          
She gasped as he touched once of the bruises on her shoulder. 
                          
"I just need to hold you." Her voice was dry and cracked, muffled against the denim of his jeans. She pulled herself around him, her arms holding his legs and her thighs touching his knees. She ignored his reaction to seeing her naked body. Her arms began to shake, and her belly constricted as the first true tears fell down her face. 
                          
He picked her up, settling her onto his lap as if she were a baby. His arms enfolded her, and he bent forward, covering her body as she curled herself around his stomach. She didn't want to think about it but she could still feel him inside of her. She could feel the sticky mess he left over her body before he got up and dressed and she could feel the blood between her thighs from his ruthlessness. She hated him. She hated that dick-faced cunt more than anyone in her whole entire life. She wanted him to die. 
                          
She wanted to die. 
                          
She didn't want to think about it for a second longer. She didn't want to remember it or dream about it or feel its ghost-like presence over her body anymore. she was sobbing. Hard, deep, painful sobs that burned her lungs and made her throat raw. She buried herself deeper into Is'haaq, gripping his t-shirt so tightly, she thought it would tear. 
                          
Wails thrummed through her ears. Her own wails- a sound she had never made before, but it was rooted in pain so absolute that it was the only way she could expunge it. She could feel him against her gums. She could feel the way he pushed himself down her throat and pinched her when she scraped her teeth against him. Her body was hot and cold and she wanted to...
                          
She kicked. She began kicking even when she felt skin against her knees. She kicked and she punched and she lashed out till his arms stilled her movements in a painful hold. 
                          
She cried.
                          
And she cried.
                          
And she cried until she could cry no longer.
                          
Her body could no longer do it.
                          
Her body was tired. She was so tired of crying that she collapsed into him, softening her hold and allowing him to support her. 
                          
Until her eyes closed and sleep overtook her.
                          
***  
                          
Is'haaq couldn't put her down.
                          
Her sheets were putrid. They were absolutely vile. It was sticky and bloody and wet and he couldn't let her sleep in all that filth. He stood up and covered her with an old throw that had been pushed against the end of her bed.