Handling
It
Scarlet
frowned, looking over her body in the mirror of her room. She could
see bruises on her chest, bite marks on her thighs. Eyes narrowing
she threw her fist into the glass, shattering it. With a slight
flinch, the curvy blonde woman pulled her hand back. Blood came from
it in places, fragments of glass glinting in the warm liquid.
Picking
up one of the larger bits of glass, Scarlet debated pulling it across
her wrist. She stood there, dripping blood on her carpet. Just as she
began to push the shard into her skin the alarm went off on the
table. She dropped the glass and spun.
It
was time to get ready.
She
didn't have the ability to cry for herself anymore. Walking into the
shower she let the water run over her body. It did nothing to clean
her, nothing ever did. Save one person. But she wasn't meant to see
him tonight. Tonight someone else had plans.
The
dress she wore was tight, they all were. Sometimes she wished she
would just get fat, but then Scarlet worried he would have her
killed. All she was would be gone, if it weren't for her figure. At
least to the man next to her, and unfortunately, that figure mattered
the most.
He
was rich, he was powerful. He made her very skin crawl. All through
the event she was to smile and nod, laugh at remarks made about her
figure, or comments on why she was even there. Scarlet obeyed without
question. She knew damn well that she was just a dumb slut to them,
and a toy for the man with her.
What
could she really do, when protesting would get her killed. Or get
someone else killed. She had so few people that were really dear to
her. If it meant sacrificing her dignity to keep them with her, she
could handle it.
She
could handle going to the hotel with him. The way he removed his suit
and sprawled on the bed so he could watch her take off the dress that
did nothing to hide her anyway. She could handle his hands pinching
her, his mouth drooling onto her neck. Even the way his hands always
left bruises on her butt. Scarlet didn't pretend he was anyone else,
she was past that.
And
she couldn't picture the man she wanted as the one that was fucking
her now.
The
next day it would start again, President ShinRa would be gone, and
she would be alone with the welts on her body. She would take a
shower, go home, and cry to no one. But it kept the ones she cared
about alive. They had their own tears to cry. And having someone to
cry with was better then not having a reason to cry.
A/N: 30 minute challenge fic, posted after editing for typos with nothing else added.