Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Pain and... pain? ❯ Chapter 7 ( Chapter 7 )

 

 

 

CHAPTER 7

 

 

 

 

The next day I slept late and woke up after midday feeling rested and a lot better than before. I stretched carefully and noticed that my bruises were getting better. I had always been a fast healer, something useful when you got thrown around as much as I did.

 

I was still in bed when Jonathan came. I heard him come in and my whole body tensed instantly. God I hated him. My stomach reminded me of its existence and I sighed. Maybe he had food again.

 

No.

 

I promised myself I wouldn't whore myself out to him again for food. For anything. I got up before Jonathan could come into my room and opened the door to find him standing behind it.

 

“Still in bed, huh, kid?” he smirked and I looked down.

 

“Hello, Jonathan.” I said quietly and pulled my face away from his hand when he touched my cheek.

 

“What, you're not happy to see me?” Jonathan asked and moved his hand down to my neck. He pulled me closer and I let him, knowing that I had already made one mistake and couldn't afford another one.

 

“I'm sorry, Jonathan.” I said and he let go of my neck before turning towards the living room.

 

“Come, kid, I brought something for you to see.” he said and I followed him reluctantly. I went to the kitchen and sat down on one of the chairs, biting my lip nervously. On the table before me were the pictures Jonathan had taken the day before.

 

I looked like a whore.

 

“Damn you're hot, don't you think?” Jonathan smirked and stood behind me. His hand pushed inside my shirt and I felt disgusted. I didn't want him to touch me. I just wanted him to go away. I wanted dad back even if it meant I'd have to fight again and get beaten. I wanted Jonathan to go away, for ever. Tears burned in my eyes and it scared me. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to be weak. Crying never did any good anyway.

 

I flinched when Jonathan kissed my neck and tried to pull away from him.

 

“Stay still!” Jonathan snapped instantly but fear was getting over me. I knew he would hurt me. He had promised not to hurt me the last time if I'd let him do what he wanted to me and he'd lied. In my mind I was going to get hurt no matter what and I'd rather not get fucked by him at all.

 

“I said stay still!” Jonathan snapped at me again and my head rocked to the side when he slapped me hard. I closed my eyes for a moment and yelped when Jonathan dragged me off the chair and towards dad's bedroom.

 

“No!” I begged with tears in my eyes and started fighting back. Jonathan wasn't having any of it and backhanded me hard before punching me in the stomach and taking hold of my hair to pull me forward. Tears leaked from my eyes when I grabbed his hand to get him to let go and tried desperately to get free from his hold.

 

“Please! Please let go!” I sobbed and got rattled.

 

“Shut up, kid. All I fucking wanted was to spend some quality time with you but you had to get difficult.” Jonathan growled and threw me on the bed. I was on my knees instantly, trying to get off the bed but Jonathan was too quick. He grabbed my ankle and yanked me back, pinning me against the mattress and forcing a kiss from me.

 

“Nnh!” I struggled and got hit again. Tears leaked freely from my eyes now but I kept struggling. I wasn't thinking clearly anymore. My mind was filled with fear and all I could think of was getting the hell away from Jonathan.

 

Jonathan ripped my clothes off of me before flipping me over roughly and sitting on me while pealing off his own clothes. I knew what was coming and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop him from hurting me. I sobbed into the mattress when my legs were forced apart and Jonathan twisted my arm behind and up to keep me still. I screamed when he forced himself into me without preparations and I swear I could actually hear myself getting ripped inside. Jonathan didn't care. He started pounding into me and when I tried to pull my arm free, because it felt like he was breaking it, he growled into my neck and twisted my arm higher against my back.

 

“You did this, kid. You got no one to blame but yourself.”

 

I just sobbed harder and concentrated on bearing the pain. It hurt so much! Jonathan rode me hard until he reached his climax and shuddered on top of me. I felt his body still above me and then he collapsed on me, trapping my hurting arm between us and making it hard for me to breathe. Jonathan rolled off of me once he had caught his breath again and lay down next to me, wrapping his arms around me possessively. I was sobbing into the mattress and didn't try to pull away from him again. I could feel myself bleeding and Jonathan had noticed it too. He sighed and pressed a kiss against my neck.

 

“I'm sorry, kid. I didn't mean to hurt you.” he whispered into my hair and I cradled my hurting arm against my chest, not even trying to control my tears. Jonathan just hugged me from behind and whispered quiet words into my ear which in any other situation would have calmed me down but now it just made me feel worse. Eventually my tears dried out and I ended up just staring at the once white wall of dad's bedroom. The wallpaper had turned yellow over the years and I noticed that it had been torn from where the seams were. When Jonathan noticed that I had stopped sobbing, he kissed my neck gently before getting off the bed. He wiped himself clean on the already soiled sheets and then turned to look at me.

 

“I'll leave money for food for you on the kitchen table. Go buy some food, you're too skinny.” He put on his clothes and I just curled up on the bed, not even bothering to cover myself from his view.

 

“I won't tell your dad about what happened today. I'll tell him that you've been good, don't worry. I didn't mean to hurt you, kid. I'm sorry.” Jonathan said before leaving and he actually sounded like he meant it. Yeah right, he didn't mean to hurt me. I had heard that lie too many times from too many people. Dad had never told me that though, he meant to hurt me and he wanted to be sure that I knew that. I liked it better that way, without the pointless lies. We both knew he wanted to hurt me.

 

I heard the front door open and close when Jonathan left and pushed myself up to sit. I just sat there for a moment, staring down at the blood covering the sheets and my legs numbly. I was still bleeding; the red area under me was getting bigger and bigger all the time. I was soiling dad's sheets. I got up stiffly and held in the sob of pain. I wasn't going to cry anymore. I wasn't weak. I wasn't. Maybe if I kept telling myself that for long enough it'd be true.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I managed to drag myself to the shower and turned on the water before pulling my knees up to my chest and feeling my hurt arm carefully. I didn't think it was broken, just sprained badly. It hurt to move and I could already see the deep bruising forming on my pale skin. I had gotten pretty good at evaluating my injuries during the years. I rarely had broken bones because dad usually tried to avoid breaking them. I wasn't any good to him if I wasn't in a good enough shape to fight.

 

Steve, the man who arranged the fights, didn't like putting up kids that were already hurt too badly to fight, because that meant that it was more than likely that there wouldn't really be a fight, just a beat up. He wanted to see real action, two kids fighting head to head, not just the stronger one beating the shit out of the weaker one. It wasn't good for gambling if you could guess the winner easily. Although, it didn't make sense why I usually got thrown in with older and bigger kids. Maybe Steve thought that I was good enough so that I had a small chance of winning, I don't know. I had only won one fight in total. It was one of the first fights I had taken part of, when I had been better fed than now.

 

I just sat on the shower floor for a long time, long after the water turned cold and just rocked myself back and forth slowly. The movement kept the pain constant but that was what I wanted. I needed to remember the pain I was in so I would learn. I had to learn. I couldn't do this over again. I had to learn how to behave. Dad was right. I was no good.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I finally got myself pulled together again, I washed myself carefully and put on the last clean clothes I had before going to dad's bedroom to rip off the sheets from the bed. I couldn't look at them. The blood on the sheets made me feel sick. I carried the sheets to the shower and dumped them on the floor before soaking them with cold water. I needed to clean the sheets. I was already in trouble with dad since he was going to know I had been in his room when he saw the clean sheets in his bed but I didn't want him to see the mess I had caused. Maybe my punishment wouldn't be as bad if I'd clean the apartment. Yeah, maybe.

 

I left the sheets to soak for a while and started cleaning the house. I'd do the laundry in the evening when there wasn't anyone in the laundry room. I was limping around the apartment slowly while cleaning and kept moving through the pain, reminding myself that I had brought this on myself. When I started on the kitchen, I saw the money Jonathan left on the table. Fifty dollars. He left fifty dollars `for food'. I felt like a whore. Now he was paying me for sex. I couldn't bring myself to take the money so I just left it on the table. It was worse when he was paying me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the evening came, I got the sheets and my own laundry and headed to the basement. It was empty just as I had suspected and turned on the machines. I sat down on the floor with a wince and stared at the machines stupidly. It was so easy to wash away all evidence of what had happened.

 

When I got the laundry done, I picked up the basket with a wince and limped to the door. Just as I reached for the handle, the door opened and a pair of piercing blue eyes stared at me.

 

“What the hell happened to your face?” Mr. Annoying asked and I looked down from his eyes. Oh yeah, my face. Jonathan's backhands had given me a fat lip and bruised cheeks.

 

“I got into a fight, sir.” I said quietly, using my usual story.

 

“Yeah, right.” he huffed and rolled his eyes at me. I don't know why, but my chest gave a painful twinge at his snarky tone. Why did I care what he thought of me? He was just a neighbor. He didn't know me.

 

I waited until he had walked into the room before limping out and if I had turned to look back, I would have seen a scoff on the man's face when he watched me limp away.