Light.
You open your eyes ever so slightly, and notice the dim light from a lamp.
Stinging, pounding pain came next, prompting you to squeeze your eyes shut again. Pain shot through your skull in hard-crashing waves.
Breathe, breathe. You have to breathe. Open your eyes, figure out the source.
Reluctantly, you open your eyes and begin to realize, you are still in your own home. In your own bed. Comfort washes over you, just before a figure steps into your line of view.
You immediately realize it's a man. He's looming over you at the foot of your bed.
Panic sets in. You react.
Wait. What you didn't realize in your disorientation was that your hands and feet were bound. Very tightly. In a desperate attempt to flee, you thrash your arms and legs around, even though you already knew you were not getting out of these binds on your own.
The man laughs at your pathetic attempt to free yourself. His laugh sends ice cold chills down your spine.
"Please," you blurt out. "Please, take anything of mine. Take all of it, take my purse and wallet. Please just take them and don't hurt me."
He gives you a mockingly disappointed look. Rightfully so, you were begging for your life. How much lower can you get?
You stare up at him. Sweat drips off your brow and lands on your chest. Your fingers wriggle against your restraints. Your breathing quickens along with your heart rate as you start to get frustrated at why he's not responding.
"Say something you freak!" You yell at him before realizing you should have chosen your words better. Yet you continue, "What do you want from me!"
"You talk too much." You hear him say loud and clear. "Stop talking." He's smiling now.
Even more frustrated than you were before, you bite your tongue in silence. You don't know if he has a weapon and if he does, you have to start behaving.
"Right now, I'm in charge. And that's all you need to know." He says in a stern tone while stepping around to the side of your bed. He looms over you some more, checking you out, scanning over every detail of your body. He casually licks his lips.
The feeling of sheer panic begins again upon realizing what the true nature of his intentions most likely are.
The man takes notice of your look of disgust. "Listen, baby, it's not personal. And you certainly aren't anything special."
He bends down, producing a decent sized hunting knife seemingly out of thin air.
What will you choose. Fight or flight?
You choose fight. Foolishly.
Your body jolts upwards, your knees luckily knocking into the hand gripping the knife, sending it flying across the room.
"Fuck!" He shouts and runs in the direction of his weapon.
Without any hint of hesitation, you hurl your body off of your bed as quickly as you can and land on the cold floor with a thud. You can hear him fumbling around, trying to find his knife you sent flying. Your mind begins to race with hopeful thoughts as you inch your way towards the phone on the adjacent table. Sweat streams down your face as you sit your body up, beginning to try and stand.
Unfortunately, you were too busy trying to escape to realize he had already found his trusty knife, and was standing right over you.
"Come on, kitten. That's not playing fair." You hear him say behind you, and your heart falls into your stomach.
In a split second, he grasps onto a thick fist-full of your hair and yanks your body upwards. His large hand twists and tangles, making your scalp seer with pain.
You beg for mercy as tears well in the corners of your eyes. The man is holding you up next to him as he stands, pulling your hair as hard as he possibly can.
"How on earth did you think you were going to manage that? Do you even think before you act?" He said, his condescending tone just adding salt to your wounds. Your screams were beginning to agitate him, so he throws you back onto the bed.
All you can focus on at this point is your burning scalp and splitting headache. You cry out like a wounded animal, tears falling down your cheeks and onto your blanket. Your cry is ugly and desperate, and accompanied by sobs and labored breathing.
"Look, I'd love to stay and play house. But I don't have all night." Your hear him clap his hands together. "Be good and don't make a sound." You turn your head to him to see him undressing.
Your mind is still in fight mode, despite being injured. You thrash around again, pulling hard against your binds, but it's still no use. Surprising.
By now he's already undressed, save for his socks. You look up and realize this just as he begins to crawl on top of you.
"No! No!" You yell at him, thrashing as hard as your body allows. You feel his thighs on either sides of your hips, holding your lower body down as he sits on top of you. You're swinging your bound arms around in a sad attempt to fight him off, and it's beginning to annoy him.
"Can you just fucking listen-" he says behind closed teeth and reaches out, catching your wrists and slamming them down onto the bed above your head.
Your desperate screams turn to ones of terror. Your face is slick with sweat and tears, making your hair stick to your cheeks and forehead. You keep screaming as a last resort. This is all you're able to do right now. You're absolutely defenseless.
He's had enough of your screaming. As your tear-filled eyes begin to open, your face is met with his closed fist immediately following.
The blow was so sudden and powerful that all you can see are stars. Everything is white. You begin to regain your vision when he lands another blow to your face. You hear your nose crack. White hot pain shoots through every fiber of your being. Your body is limp. Just as you begin to think it might be over, he gives you one more for good luck.
"I said not to make a sound, didn't I, you dumb cunt?" He says, but his voice is distorted and fuzzy.
You can feel his hands beginning to make their way around your body, but you're still trying to recover from the punches. You open your mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a bubble made from your own blood that soon pops, allowing blood to trickle down your chin mixed with the blood gushing from your now smashed nose.
His hands found their way to your panties, and he rips them off with one swift tear.
Your eyes open as you realize he was shifting his weight to grab his knife from the table, where he reached behind him and cut the ties from your ankles.
"Ah, fuck. Yeah." You hear him say under his breath as he forces your legs open with his knees. "Not gonna fight back anymore, huh?" He sneers down at you.
Stinging pain sent needles into the backs of your eyes. You roll your head around, disoriented and uncomfortable.
The man leans his head down and presses his mouth to your breast. His tongue is warm and wet against your skin, making you shudder. You try and let out a cry of protest, but all that escapes your lips are guttural groans. His tongue swirls around against you, and he makes his way to your other breast.
You're beginning to drift off to your "happy place" when pain shoots upwards through your body from your breast. His teeth sink into your flesh, deeper and deeper until you finally let out a shriek of pain. Your shrieks soon stop as you remember what comes after.
"Mmm.." he purrs, raising his head to see his work. The marks left by him are deep and purple. Your soft skin reddens and raises at the site.
You're crying, but you're crying soft enough that it doesn't seem to be phasing him. You feel his hands rubbing against your skin. Your stomach, your thighs. His rough hands violating every inch of your body as he claims it as his own.
"You really do taste sweet." He says softly to you as some sort sick compliment.
Ignoring his comment, you turn your head to the side and pretend you're anywhere but here. Blood continues to drip from your nose and busted lip while you try and tell yourself you'll do as he says so he won't kill you. You still have a chance to get out of this alive. Don't you?
He begins to prod against you.
Fuck. Bite your tongue and close your eyes. Pretend you're anywhere else.
The man grabs your left leg and holds it up into the air before forcing himself inside of you with one hard push. You let out a whimper in pain, feeling him pushing against your cervix. He was much larger than anything or anyone you've ever experienced.
Hot tears stream down your face. You're trying your hardest to just pretend you're dead.
He grunts heavily like an animal in heat as he thrusts deeper and deeper into you. You can feel his nails digging into the skin of your leg. His other hand is placed on your stomach, clinging to your skin.
"Fuck. Yes." He huffs, slowing down substantially. "Are you dead?" He asks between panting.
You want him to think you are, but he knows better than that, so you use what little strength you have to open your eyes and turn your head towards him.
"Ugh." He says in disgust and disappointment upon looking at your broken face covered in sweat, blood and snot. "Maybe you'd be better without that."
You had no idea what he meant and you weren't going to ask. At this point, you're solely relying on fate or chance. And the odds haven't been in your favor since the start.
He leans his body forwards and grabs you by your hair again. He knows this is your weak spot now. "I think I was a little too soft."
Your scalp begins to burn again, but you'll quickly realize that's the least of your problems.
While your eyes are shut in pain, he's reaching over to your nightstand. Before you know it, your alarm clock is being smashed directly into your skull. He holds the sturdy clock above his head and slams it down onto yours, each hit making you drift further from consciousness.
He does this a couple more times before growing tired and throwing it against the wall. "There we go." He says between breaths. "Still awake?"
Congratulations, you're still cognizant. But his voice sounds like it's traveling to your ears through a tube. You probably have hemorrhaging or maybe if you're lucky, it's just a concussion.
He takes your silence as a suitable answer and goes back to what he was doing. You were hoping you'd black out, or maybe even not be able to feel anything. But of course, you just aren't very lucky.
With a grunt, he flips your body onto your stomach and pushes your legs forward and apart so your ass is in the air. You roll your head to the side to ease the pain. Drool and blood trickles from your mouth and onto the mattress. Blood is visibly smeared on the spot next to you, where your head just lay, indicating that your head is bleeding pretty bad.
Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of his teeth sinking into your sensitive ass. But the pain barely bothered you at this point. You're too disoriented to pay attention.
This seemed to excite him; how you weren't fighting back anymore. He slaps your bare ass a few times before positioning himself behind you, this time easing in slowly.
This position definitely hurt worse. Each time his skin slapped against yours, it felt like your body was being torn apart from the inside.
He bent his body down, arching over yours, and pressing his face into the side of your face. "You like this. You like this, you whore." He breathes in your ear, his teeth scraping against your bloody cheek.
His thrusts become more rhythmic and concentrated. He laughs into your ear. "You're so pretty." He chuckles, slamming into you harder with each word.
You're beginning to regain lucidity, which is a shame, because you were hoping you'd have passed out by now.
The man shows no signs of slowing. He moves his torso back upright and grips hard onto your hips, bucking against you so hard your body begins to shimmy towards your headboard.
"Ah-" He exhales as he fucks you, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "I'm so fucking close." He sucks his teeth.
You're tired. You're trying to ignore the pain in your head. The pain in your nose. The pain in your pussy. Is it even worth it to live after something like this?
Suddenly you can't breathe. Your vision is immediately blurred. You're frantically feeling around your neck with your bound hands as your body is forced upwards. He's choking you with something.
"Fuck!" He yells into the air, gripping onto your ripped panties from earlier that were now being used to strangle you. His grip tightens as his pace quickens.
You can't breathe. You're panicking. The tight cloth is crushing your windpipe and all you can do about it is let out a pathetic gurgle as all of the air in your lungs is forced out of your throat.
His body crashes into yours over and over and over again. He notices that you're still conscious and yanks your throat backwards.
Clawing at your throat, you try everything in your power to try and get your fingers around the cloth on your throat, but he's pulling much too tightly. Darkness begins to engulf you. You can feel your eyes rolling back in your head. Your arms are now limply hanging below you. You can't do it anymore. You have no energy left to use, and you are ready to let go.
The man lets out a yell as he slams himself into you one last time, his voice echoing through your house. He hasn't let go of your throat, and he notices your now limp body hanging against his grip. "Goodnight, kitten." You hear his deep voice lulling you to sleep.
Everything is dark. This is it. This is how you die. Your mouth is hanging open, blood and saliva freely falling onto the bed below you. You are now completely numb, a warm and fuzzy sensation running down your body. As your vision completely diminishes, your body twitches one last time. You are comfortable now as you happily invite deaths embrace and leave your body behind.
Darkness.
"Don't worry, I'll be sure to take good care of your body."