BPOV

I'm unable to move, paralyzed by the sound of heavy footsteps getting closer. My heartbeat getting faster to the point where it's going to explode right out of my chest.

The door opens, slowly, and a shadow crawls up the wall of the bedroom.

"Ah, there she is. Is my lovely wife awake? I'm ready for our wedding night...are you?"

Dear God, please...help me...save me...

I can feel his hands slither their way up my calves. He works his way up to shirt and, suddenly, rips it off in one move. I know what's going to happen next, but my body shuts off.

And then...I feel nothing.

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You know that saying, "the truth hurts?" Well, that is the biggest understatement of the century. The truth kills me everyday. I am slowly dying every second of every day of my life. Why, do you ask?

Because I deserve it. Anything and everything that comes to me is meant to happen because it was all my fault, and I know it.