I felt like I was runover by a car. My lip was swelled with a tiny dent where I bit it. My mouth felt like I had a wad of cotton stuffed in it and my throat was on fire. The cuffs had bitten into my wrists and ankles, leaving angry red lines that was surrounded by a bouquet of blue and purple bruises. Blueish finger-marks showed the evidence of my rough treatment from last night on my arms, thighs, lower back and legs. Hell, even the back of my neck had a blue hand with purple fingers imprinted on it. Last night, when the pain became too much with the paddle, I started crying and tried to squirm away. He grabbed my neck and forced my head into the pillow, muffling my cries. He began hitting me with more force, but the blows became less calculated. Some landed on my lower back, some on my back legs, my inner thighs, and hips. Somewhere during all this I fell into the loving arms of darkness.
When I tried to sit up, I cried out in pain. The numbness left my lower body. The pain from my torn entrance shot through my spine. My beat-up legs and ass throbbed. And to top it off I had a splitting headache.
I stumbled out of the bed devoid of his presence, crashing to the floor. My legs wobbled as I tried to stand again. A despair-filled cry slipped from my lips as I defeatedly began to crawl towards the bathroom. I kicked the door shut when I finally reached it.
I gripped the edge of the sink, and pulled myself up. Breathing through the pain I waited for the room to stop spinning and for the hammering in my head to become bearable. My vision became clearer, so I looked up.
Someone I didn't recognise stared back at me from the mirror. It was quite a while ago the last time I stood in front of a mirror, truly looking at myself and not just a passing glance. My hair was definitely longer than I remember it being, my collarbones more pronounced, and I could see my ribs starting to show directly under my collarbones. A fragile thin wrist moved the unkempt overgrown bangs out of my face to reveal dull blue eyes staring back at me. There was none of the fire, the cheekiness, deviance, or even love in those eyes; only greyish-blue orbs with no depth in them, devoid of live and spirit. They became glassy and a stream of tears slipped unhindered out, sliding over my more prominent cheekbones, down my jaw, wetting my neck. I continued to watch as my face remained impassive, my body unmoving and my eyes still dull, continually producing tears that wouldn't stop.
I pulled my gaze towards my body, the purple, blue, yellow and green stark against my pale skin. My eyes travelled from the reflection's neck, lingering on the purple fingertips at the sides of my neck, to the thin wrists gripping the sink, sporting purple and blue bracelets, to the telling bruises around my waist.
I wrenched my eyes away from the mirror and looked further down my body to the spotted flesh on the inside of my thighs. Turning around with my back to the mirror, I looked over my shoulder. The damage of the whip luckily left only faint silver scars, some may be permanent. My lower back and bottom was littered with different colours, and I finally became distracted enough from the pain to realise that the sticky fluid was still inside of me, and slowly trailing down my leg.
I felt used.
I slowly made my way to the shower, frowning as I stepped into the tepid water, resembling the state I was in for the past weeks…no, this began months ago, it is only the last few weeks where I have been most affected, because before he only seemed to become distant and disinterested, but recently he became violent.
I slumped against the shower wall, letting the now-warm water wash away the sweat off my skin, along with the evidence of last night still running down my legs. The water became scolding hot, but I stayed under it, unmoving, allowing it to burn the numbness I have felt for some time away.
I walked out of the shower with more determination and purpose than I had for quite a while. As I entered the bedroom I glanced at the empty bed, causing me to lose the small uncertainty I still had. I pursed my lips and walked to the closet, threw on jeans and a T-shirt and began ripping all of my clothes out of the closet, piling them in a heap on the floor.
I went to my old room to retrieve a suitcase and roughly threw the pile of clothes in it. After I packed the last of my cameras I realised how few belongings I had, especially compared to the huge space of the penthouse. I only had a rucksack on my back, and a suitcase in each hand. I bit my lower lip as I looked at the penthouse for presumably the last time, and gave a soft sigh. I turned my back on the luxury around me and strode towards the door, grasped the knob, turned it, and took my first steps away from Asami, hopefully towards the Akihito who always wore a smile and a fierce gleam in his eyes, not the husk I have become.
