23. Kill or be killed

Brielle Clarke

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I stood in my closet in front of the full-body mirror, staring at myself. There was also one out in my bedroom but I didn’t want to use that one Incas anyone barged in.

The events of three nights ago were still replaying in my head. I would think it was a dream if the red spot on my neck was still visible.

I touched it carefully, holding back a blush. It was the first time I had gotten a hickey. It was the first time a man ever marked me and it just had to be Maxim. I could still feel his mouth on my skin, hot and searing.

The things he said that night were stuck in my head and I refused to believe them. He wanted to make me the woman he wanted. How did he plan to do that? Was he even serious or was he drunk? He had been drinking after all.

The craziest part was that I had allowed him to do all those things to me. When he had ordered me to clean up my mess, I had obeyed. I liked it when he called me his dirty little whore. What was wrong with me?

I could not stop st