Title: Contemplations

Summary: The acrid smell of burning flesh wafted through my nose. It was so horrible; I felt a physical sickness. I ran to the side of the building and leaned on it for support. This can't be happening; I never had the chance to know her! (AO)

Genre: Angst / Romance

Rating: Rated M for rape and violence
Warning: May cause a trigger. If it does, I'm truly sorry. That was never my intention.

The acrid smell of burning flesh wafted through my nose. It was so horrible; I felt a physical sickness. I ran to the side of the building and leaned on it for support. This can't be happening; I never had the chance to know her!

Chapter 1: Oh, God!

Lavinia's P.O.V.

I struggled against the rope that was restricting any movements I could make. I felt the tiny, coarse hairs of the rope slide against my small wrists and ankles, irritating the skin there to the point where deep red lines were cutting into my olive coloured skin. My mind wasn't foggy; he wanted me to feel the pain of the attacks he was inflicting upon my body. He wanted me to suffer emotionally and physically.

Needless to say, it was working.

I was lying on a makeshift bed he had already prepared. He forced my legs open for himself when he tied me to the so-called bed. My breaths were coming in short gasps. Willing myself to calm down, I turned my head to the side. I saw him advancing toward me. I wanted to scream, to cry out for help, but I knew it was useless.

No one could possibly hear me.

He forced himself in me, not even caring if I was hurting. I was a virgin, that is, until today. It hurt like hell but the only noises I made were whimpers of fear and pain. His rough, calloused hands were roaming over my body; not even hindering his movements when I shuddered violently, silently voicing my opinion about his wrongful actions. I forced my eyes open when he stilled his movements after what seemed like forever, but in actuality had only been about fifteen minutes.

I felt his weight lift off of me. Off my tired, exhausted body.

Tears burned my eyes, blinding my vision. I couldn't wipe them away. They stung.

He opened the heavy door and escaped, leaving me in this hell.

I began to laugh sarcastically. Ironic, isn't it?

My long lost sister is a Detective. Special Victims Unit for fuck's sake. Does she even know about me? Does she know that her father is a rapist? A rapist who enjoys tearing apart his own flesh and blood?

My head hurt. Too many thoughts swirling inside my mind at the same time. I sigh, imagining I'm at home in my own bed, wrapped up in my blanket all warm and safe.

Truth is: I was never really safe at home.

The only time I'm safe is when I'm in my own mind. And now... and now I'm not even safe there.

He controls me. He decides whether I live or die now.

I wait and I wait. Suddenly, I feel something warm trickle down my legs slowly.

I'm bleeding.

Told you I was a virgin.

I can't see in the darkness that shrouds this room, but strangely enough, it calms me. It puts to sleep all the blinding visions of his face.

I will myself to forget my father's face. Improbable, but in this opaque space, it's becoming more and more a possibility.

I squeeze my eyes shut, wincing as the cuts on my face are disturbed. Slowly, but surely, I fall into a deep slumber without even realizing it.

"Lavinia. Lavinia. Wake up, my darling."

I feel a rough, calloused hand stroke the side of my face.

No no no no! Not again!

I refuse to wake up, to open my eyes and see his demented facial features haunt my vision. I refuse to look into his piercing eyes as they pin me down to this horrific hell.

"I know you're awake. Open your eyes now!" The angry voice bellowed, grabbing a fistful of my hair and tugging sharply.

I whimper and open my eyes half way, "No, no, please. Not again." I plead him, beg him.

He laughs a dark, low, evil chuckle and tugs again. "All the way." I do as he tells me. "There you go, sweetie."

He shifts his weight onto his knee as he stands up from his crouched position and slowly, struttingly walks to the exit of the only escape. He picks up a knife from off of one of the tables and clicks the blade open effortlessly.

I scream. I know what's going to happen.

"Don't cut me! Please! I'll do whatever you say, just don't cut me!" My voice sounds strange and foreign to me. I begin to sob, tears building in my eyes. I try to shake loose the leather that bounds me, but it's too held in place.

I try to kick free, only to be slapped in the face by his big, rough hand. "Stop it!" he seethed, his voice gruff and intense.

I wince as the sting settles along my cheek, whimpering and trying to sniffle back my tears.

Daddy hates when I cry. To him, crying is showing him that his actions are wrongful.

Daddy never likes when someone stands up to him.

Daddy hates stubborness.

Daddy hates competition.

Daddy hates me.

So, how was it? Please leave a review. Shall I continue?