Chapter 198: Suicide

Her eyes widened further as he advanced toward her. She vigorously shook her head, her

eyes pleading with him not to harm her. But his demeanor told another story. She was so

scared that she could hear her own heartbeat. Every step he took toward her increased her

shivers. She tried to crawl back from him, but he held her throat and pulled her close.

Applying pressure on her neck, he forced the air from her lungs. Instinctively, she tried to

pry his fingers off her slender neck, but he remained unmoved, relentless. Her limbs

thrashed in the air as whimpers escaped her mouth, pleading with him to let her go. Tears

streaked her cheeks, but they did nothing to soften his heart, bound as he was by rage.

"Remove your hand," he ordered, challenging her instincts. In the next second, she retrieved

her hand from his tightened grip and formed a fist. Her mouth opened wide, trying to inhale

as much air as possible, but his hold around her neck prevented it. Her hands and legs

flailed in the air like a fish out of water.

"You dare to do that again, Sheharzaad," he snarled, more to himself. She was clueless about

what he was talking about, her heart racing. As far as she remember, she followed all his

orders and the instructions given to her relogiously. Such thoughts never even occur to her

mind. Her fear was too paramount to even think of defying him. She never defied him. She

never steppedout of the line.

As her desperation grew, he loosened his grip and pushed her into a standing position while

still holding her neck.

"Kiss me," he demanded, looking staright into her fearful eyes. Sheharzaad had a hunch

where it was all escalating. She looked at him amd then at his lips. Despite wanting to

escape him, her mind was programmed in such a manner, that she knew, she canno defy his

word.

A sob threatened to escape her throat, but she placed her hands on his face, pressing her

trembling lips to his and kissing him. Tears flowed down her cheeks.

The panic and fear she felt were indescribable.

He was upset with her.

He could lock her in the cell again.

Desperately trying to give her best in the kiss to avoid further anger, she felt him suddenly

pull back, his eyes probing hers. "Not a single tear. Got me? Not a single. Fucking. Tear," he

said, and she quickly nodded, wiping her eyes and kissing him again.

Her body began to shake with fear as he unzipped her shirt, slipping it from her shoulders

and exposing her back.

Their lips disconnected as he lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, and carried

her to a wall. He continued to kiss her, but her upper body shook violently.

As soon as her back touched the wall, her suppressed sobs burst forth. But she didn't stop

obeying him. Flooded by memories, she was overwhelmed by her trauma with an intensity

beyond words.

That night in the office.

That night in the car.

Both memories colliding.

Followed by the four months in the cell.

She struggled to breathe, her fists pounding against his chest.

She saw black spots in front of her eyes. "Shehryaar... sir," her muffled voice cried against

his lips. "Shehryaar... sir," she repeated, almost sobbing in his hold.

Her senses dulled as she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness, memories of those two

nights playing vividly in her mind. It felt like she was reliving each moment.

Her trauma was fully awakened now.

"No, please," she cried out, placing her hand over herself protectively. "No... don't take... my

virginity..." She pulled back, her tear-filled eyes looking into his blurry ones. "Shehryaar...

sir, please." She shook uncontrollably.

He pressed his lips to her neck but paused, letting them rest there as he listened to her

pleas.

"No... please... sir."

The memory of begging him in the same way replayed in her mind from the first time, in his

office.

Black spots danced in front of her vision, and a severe headache hit her. She couldn’t grasp

what was happening anymore.

Had he removed her clothes and touched her?

Or hadn’t he?

She could only feel herself trapped in a similar position.

Was he removing his pants?

Or was he not?

The line between past and present blurred until she could no longer tell the difference. She

didn’t realize when her head fell against her shoulder, slipping into unconsciousness.

The shock was so severe that her body convulsed with shivers as he slowly laid her down

on the bed. Her hands still shook, and tears still streamed down her cheeks as she lay almost

lifeless on the bed.

...

The glass of water looked so tempting to her. She focused on nothing but that. The dark cell

loomed in the background. Chains bound her limbs once more, trying to capture her

attention, but her gaze was fixed on the glass. She had just recovered from a panic attack,

and when she opened her eyes, she found herself in a dark cell again. It was different from

the previous one, but the atmosphere was the same, enclosing her, trapping her, making it

hard to breathe.

He had yet to announce her fate. When her eyes opened, she was here, locked in the dark

basement. The man keeping watch over her told her he would soon make a decision about

her.

She knew now that she lacked the courage and strength to endure another round of

confinement in the dark cell.

Her courage had died.

Her stamina and willpower were gone.

With a dizzy head, she stood up, took the glass of water, and drank it before smashing it on

the floor.

Picking up a small shard, she stared at it with hooded eyes.

Its sharp, pointed edge beckoned her.

In the next second, that edge was against her wrist.

She slit her wrist.

Blood gushed from her vein.

Her whole body went cold as she lay on the marble floor.

Lifeless.

Longing for death to take her.