The smile on his face seems forced, as does the tone of kindness coming from his mouth,

"Whoa, why are you being so serious?"

I can feel my teeth are clenched behind my lips. The tension building between us is almost as unbearable as the lack of space.

"Wh—what do you think I'm gonna do, make you fuck me?"

I can't hide the utter disgust and shock on my face; I hear the anger in my voice as I say his name. His intentions are clear, and so are mine. I'm getting out of this room. I sidestep him, past his right shoulder as I sense his entire body shift to turn. My hand reaches for the door, but before I can turn the handle and escape his body is pressed against my back. The instinct to turn around to protect him backside is instantaneous.

"I just think…"

He's standing there, arms outstretched, encasing my entire body within the doorframe. His face inches from mine.

"I just think…if you're gonna fuck your way to providence, than you should do it with someone who can at least make you smarter… Not just richer."

His breath is hot on my lips.

"Right?"

My body won't move, but my eyes keep roaming. First the room, then back to his eyes, and then the floor, the ceiling, back to his eyes again. This can't be happening.

His hand slides between my hair and touches my neck, I feel my hand shove his away as my brain continues to short circuit. Do something! Say something, anything! His cheek is nearly pressed to mine.

"What? Hmm?" His finger guides my chin back to face him.

"No, this is a serious…" his finger doesn't move, hovering just above my lips, "…question."

My body is rigid, I can feel him moving, there's no room between us, but he pushes closer still.

"Do you want to be kept?"

His fingers slide down my jawline, and his touch is ice cold.

"Or do you want to be taken seriously…hmm?"

His left hand moves to my shoulder, his right hand still holding the door shut and my body in place.

"I would like to leave, please Jack." My voice is timid and twists my stomach into knots. Be stronger than that! Don't say 'please'!

With force he shoves his body against mine as I try to lean away, his sick desire is pressing against my hip. I can feel its pressure.

"I can make you cum," the smirk on his face causes a pit to form in my stomach, "like nobody else has."

"Not him," his breath repulses me as it snakes across my cheek, "not anyone."

It's right then, I feel it, my strength. I lift both hands up and shove against his chest with everything I've got.

"No!" the voice is mine, and so is the anger.

I frantically turn around and grab hold of the doors handle, twisting it up I hear the latch release and the hinges groan as I whip the door wide open. I know I don't have much time, my shove wasn't hard enough to send him to the floor, but it threw him off balance, which would have to be good enough. I sprint past my desk and out into the hallway of the deserted office.

I can hear my scream before I feel the pain; my hair is twisted between his fingers as he pulls me backwards. My hands reach for the unwanted grip holding my head in place. His arm wraps around my stomach and before I can get out another scream my body is slammed to the hardwood floor. I try to think, but my lungs are burning, the wind knocked out of me completely. His body is on top of mine, his hand still caught in my hair. My hands go to the floor, palms out and I push with all the strength I can muster. I'm pushing and pushing, but his body still holds me down. It feels like I'm stuck under a fallen tree, he's body is unmoving. I hear the tearing sound as his free hand rips apart my tights.

"Stop!" I'm shouting now, as loud as I can, "Jack! Stop!" I keep trying to scream, his hand on top of my head pushes my face into the floor, muffling the sounds I'm making. I move my hands then, away from the floor and down to my sides; I am pulling the hem of my dress down, trying to obstruct his hand from ripping my panties off as well. The struggle lasts only seconds as he releases my hair and flips me over onto my back with both hands. My elbows scrape against the wood floor; in that split second I regain some small amount of control and use my arms to push up from the floor. In response to my action, the back of Jack's right hand connects with my jaw. I fall back slightly, but push forward again, unwilling to give up on this moment that I can still use as a means to escape.

Christian. Downstairs.

"Christian!"

My scream is so loud it hurts my ears, but after my scream echoes off the brick walls Jack grabs hold of my face, his hands encasing both sides of my head. His movement is so quick and the force is so strong I can feel the blow before my skull connects with the floor.

I can feel his hands working, moving up and down my body. I can feel the cold air across my exposed breasts. My eyes feel heavy, but my head feels even heavier. The belt buckle is what brings me back to the moment. The sound of metal against metal, the zipper being pulled down. I move my head, first to the left, then to the right. My eyes are focusing, I can see him, but I can't move. His fingers slide between my legs, and press against me there.

"Stop…" it's a whisper, or a whine, I can't tell. But Jack can, he looks up at me with that same smirk. My eyelids won't stay open; I try to close my legs. He shoves them apart with the slightest effort. My hands move down my stomach, I can feel my hands are trying, still, even when I can't. They're still trying.

His finger forces its way inside me, my hands are still trying. I feel a grip on them; grabbing both of my wrists with his free hand Jack shoves them above my head as he pulls out his finger and forces three in at once. The pain is bringing me back, and no matter what, I have to come back. I have to stop him. I have to get away. He's between my legs, his fingers twisting inside of me. I bring my knees up and try to pull my wrists free from his hand. I have to keep trying. My head is throbbing, blood rushing in my ears, the fog around my vision is telling me I haven't got much time left. But his fingers are gone. I can feel his breath, hot and heavy on my face as he leans forward. He keeps looking from my face to my navel, and back again. That's when I feel the tip of him, rubbing against me. His sick moan echoes in my ears as he keeps sliding himself up and down between my folds. He looks at me then, his eyes are piercing mine, his smirk returns.

"Does he fuck you like this?" his grip around my wrists tightens, cutting off circulation.

Without warning he shoves into me, all the way to the base. My throat releases a strangled cry louder than my scream for Christen had been. Jack lets go of my wrists then and covers my mouth and nose. Holding them shut, I can't breathe. My hands move to his wrist and begin to claw and yank as hard as I can. The pain between my legs intensifies as Jack pulls out, almost completely only to ram himself back in all the way to the hilt. He ruts against me, hard and fast. It feels like an eternity passes before I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, Jack probably couldn't hear them over his moaning and cursing.

"Oh. Bitch. Fuck. So tight." Each word emphasized with a thrust of his hips. Snapping against mine. Maybe I made them up, hallucinated the boots running across the floor.

The sound of a guttural scream that hadn't come from me, maybe I hallucinated that too. But I can see his face, my head bent back, far enough to make out his form. Running. I feel something, his throbbing inside me, before hotness engulfs me. Then the pressure is gone, my lungs gasp for air as the hand that had been denying it is gone. I scream out as loud as my lungs will allow me. His name is all I can manage. Shattered glass, I can hear the sound of wood splintering. Screaming. Am I screaming? No.

The look on his face when he sees me, it's done. He's let himself go, spilling inside of her. Inside of what's mine. Ana. Her eyes are dulled, head bent back, she looks dead. She's looking right at me. I can't breathe, the smile on his face, he did it just for me. What happened next happened so fast I'm not sure I can remember it all. I know the door behind him caught his fall as I sent him flying backwards. My hands held his shirt so hard that when I pulled him up from the ground I didn't need to readjust my grip to send him crashing through the plain glass window of his office. His body landing on a wooden desk, cracking and tipping over with his body as he slid from its top and slammed onto the floor. I had to step over the broken door to finally reach him. Bloody nose and a cut on his forehead, nothing compared to what's next.

I grab his collar and pull his head from the floor only to send it rocking backward as my fist connects with his face. Again and again and again, I lose count.

The sound she makes, a strangled sob, my name. That's what pulls me back. I turn away from the bloody mess in my grasp, less than five feet from where I'm kneeling over this soon-to-be dead mans body. She's lying there. Her polka dot dress has been torn open, her tights ripped to pieces.

My hand releases the collar, dropping the unconscious body to the floor. I'm by her side in seconds, pulling my coat off I lie it across her body. She's not moving. Her eyes are sliding from side to side.

"Christian." She's repeating my name. I tell her I'm here, and that I've got her. That she is safe. She doesn't stop saying my name. I pick her up as carefully as I can, she makes a sound, and it's something I'll never forget. I wasn't there, a phone call, a business venture. It could have waited. I should have been there.

The hospital lights sting my eyes as I come to, the constant beeping sounds like my alarm clock, only worse. I try to move my head, but my neck is held in place. The panic sets in, my breathing hurts my chest, and the beeping gets faster. I've got to get out. I can't breath. I can't open my mouth, but I need to scream, I have to call out. My hands clench the covers around me and my legs are franticly searching for the beds edge. I'm about to fall apart when I see him; his grey eyes hold me still. A wave washes over me and calms the panic that had been rising. I lift my hand; outstretching it towards him when I see the bandages wrapped around my wrist and the bruises that nearly cover all the way up to my elbow. The pain between my legs returns, his body is on top of mine. Rutting, I can hear his moaning.

Oh. Bitch. Fuck. So tight.

His hand grabs mine and I scream.

"Ana! Ana, it's me… please, open your eyes. Ana!"

His face is inches away, his fingers pushing the hair from my eyes. The wetness on my cheeks makes the strains clump together. It's him. It's my Christian.

"You're okay, you're safe. I'm right here." His finger dabs at a tear sliding down the tip of my nose.

"My head…" my voice sounds hideous, rough, wrecked.

"You've got a very bad concussion, are you feeling any pain?" His husky voice sounds just as wrecked as mine.

I try to nod, but the neck brace makes it impossible. He understands by the look in my eyes and says, "Hold on, I'll get the nurse."