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A sharp pain stung her swollen eyes; salted tears ran down her jaw and neck. Why was he still yelling? Did he ever stop? She didn’t know anymore. Her back hit the cold painted wall, pressed on the bed, against the wall and between him. His grey eyes ragged with furry and his mouth blabbered on uncontrollably.
And then it happened. Every day, every time, just like before. A fast hand stung the side of her face. She scrambled to get away from him then, pulling at the sheets and anything she could get a hold of. The same hand fell against the back of her neck and pulled her down against the bed. She lay there helplessly, only knowing the outcome would be worse if she struggled.
He dug his knees into her wrists and used his strong feet to hold down her legs. He pulled her shirt up to her neck, having her lay there on her chest. She felt his weight leave her body and heard him losing his belt. She gave out a cry of pleas’, but was only responded with a sharp leather belt lashed against her back. She cried out again, her sight was blinded with the salted tears and blood rose in her mouth. Would anybody hear her? No. Not when they lived on a deserted shoreline. Over and over, the belt fell hard against her back. How many times? How long? She couldn’t keep track.
She thought she loved this man, she thought he loved her. But anytime she did anything slightly wrong she was yelled at, treated like a dog or child, and lashed. Sexually Abused and Beaten. Would anybody care? Probably not. Would anybody ever know? Not until she was dead.
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