Suicide

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.