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Chapter 9: DisgustedSummary:Cindy's self-abuse has been caught by Teddy, who is disgusted by it. Getting into a fight, things spiral out of her control as her life worsens.

Notes:Read the tags!

If you want to contact me, my information is in my profile. I'm always happy to say hi and chat, and if you're a bad man, maybe do even more.

Chapter TextI imagine that for most people, there comes a time when someone—a friend, lover, or enemy—finds out their darkest secret. I guess sometimes it's a horrible thing that causes more loss. Sometimes, maybe, it makes their bond stronger. But it must always be painful and intense. It leaves them naked in a way most people never are. Exposed.

Holy hell, was I exposed. Maybe if it had been Tabitha trying to reach me one last time. Or Justine. Or my Mom coming home drunk early after being fired from another job. Maybe then, things would have been better. Anyone but Teddy. He'd never liked me. At best, he tolerated me, and since my rape and subsequent spiral down the toilet, it'd just gotten worse.

Like a deer startled by a strange sound, I stood there, frozen. It was probably for just a fraction of a second, but to me, it might as well have been hours. My hands, ass, and pussy shiny with oil, three fingers deep in my pussy, and a hand shoving a stick in my ass. Exposed indeed. "God No" must have been about the most focused thought in my terrified brain. I don't have words to convey how much I hated and was disgusted at myself. Practically every day since the rape, I had hated myself for not being dead, and only twice, in the past few days, had I felt remotely alive. But that had brought a new, different hate to me. And here was my most shameful moment on display in front of the person who cared for me the least.

Now, if this was a "hot" porno story, he'd have whipped out his cock and told me, "I've got something bigger that you need, baby," or something like that. He'd have a conveniently colossal ten-inch cock, and would have fucked my brains out. He'd have touched and used me in all the right ways to make me realize what I was missing and perfectly fill that hole, pun intended. Instead, I heard the most terrifying words since, "Relax, it'll all be over soon."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

It was a knife slicing through my self-worth. Finally snapping to reality, I grunted as I pulled the stick out and stood, sobbing hysterically, whimpering, trying to explain, as if I could put the words out there to make him understand or even make him want to understand. I wasn't even making sense, and when I stepped towards him, my face exploded in pain.

"Stay away from me, you sick fuck! Is that a stick? You're fucking yourself with a stick?" he said. The look of hate mixed with disgust burned away any remnants I had of a soul. I just wailed, holding my face where he had slapped me, dazed, still barely making sense as I talked.

"Please... god... I... don't... I... you don't... god...," I muttered as a thousand thoughts ran through my head. A dozen explanations tried to flow from my mouth at once as I stood there trembling, desperate to turn the situation around. If I could only make him understand, things could be alright. Better. I just had to explain it calmly. Except I wasn't calm, and Teddy had to do about the one thing to make things worse and in a way that he couldn't understand.

He tried to take the stick. Even after I had pulled it out of me, my left hand had clung to it. Held it. It was safety. And he grabbed it and jerked it out of my hands.

"What the fuck is this? Are you fucking crazy, you stupid shit!" he screamed. Rarely do people encounter in their life a person who looks at them and sees nothing worthwhile. Maybe an ex from a bad breakup or a friend you failed in your time of need. Perhaps a family member who gave up after trying to get you off drugs for the last time. But it should be rare. In a few short months, two men had looked at me as if I was complete shit. Worthless in every way. And maybe they were right to. But I wasn't coherent enough to be thinking that now. I just screamed and jumped at him and my stick.

Now, up to this point, I hadn't really described Teddy. He was about six feet tall, and while not heavy, he was broad. 190-200 lbs tops. In the past three months, I had gained weight, mostly from drinking and just lying around. About 140 pounds, with my chest and belly being where most of it had ended up. Still, at 5'4", I was significantly smaller than him. But I didn't care. He had just taken the only thing in my life that mattered. Pathetic huh?

So I flew at him, and to my credit, I surprised him. I knocked him back, and the stick went flying from his hand. I was wild. I hit him in the face, and my hands hurt from where I had punched the tree and torn the skin on my knuckles, not to mention the jaw itself, telling my fist, "No." I pulled my hand back and yelped in pain. I was lost in that feeling and distracted by looking for the stick on the floor. If I had paid attention to Teddy, the outcome would have been the same, but at least I'd have been prepared. Instead, I looked up just in time to feel his fist connect with my left eye and send me flying to the floor. In movies, you see these small girls fighting much bigger men and holding their own, but the truth is, unless you're some massive bodybuilder, guys are much stronger than you. I was crazed and had hit and barely stunned him, primarily by surprise, for half a second. His punch had exploded my face in pain and sent me hard to the floor, dazed. My head bounced off the carpet as I slid to a stop. Teddy, however, was furious now and had no intention of stopping. He kicked me once, then twice, on the floor as I tried to curl up while he screamed at me.

"Stupid fucking piece of shit bitch. Hit me! Hit me! Crazy fucking shit!" he screamed as he bent over me and punched me again and again. My gut exploded in pain, and my right cheek bruised instantly as his punch to it drove my left to the floor. Hit after hit, I screamed in pain, twitching with each blow. I was screaming, but I also started moaning. Suddenly, the pain eased, and lying there, I looked up at him, my left eye already swelling shut.

"You're getting off on this? You're fucking crazy!" he said, disgusted.

I didn't know what he meant until I followed his gaze with my good eye. I realized then why I'd been moaning. I had my fingers in myself. I had, at some point during my beating, just curled up and started fingering myself. I froze again as that realization hit me. I hurt all over. I was exposed, raw, and I was fingering myself. I didn't know why. But just like earlier in the bathroom, something primal in me was sparked again, and I leaned up and kissed him. Kissed Teddy. I didn't like him. Most of me would never want him. But those were the leftover shreds of the girl who had died. I kissed him hard. I felt him respond. I felt his strong hands hold my chest as he suddenly threw me away from him. He was still looking at me with disgust. But I think there was some disgust for himself as well, along with need.

He slapped me hard and spun me around, telling me to get on my fucking hands and knees. I trembled as I did so, actually fucking eager for this. Again - you have to understand my mental state. This wasn't anything I wanted. It was entirely about addressing a need. It was a sad, pathetic need, but it was more urgent than anything I'd ever imagined. Was this what meth users felt like? A need for something so bad that nothing else in the world mattered? I didn't care then. I just moaned as heat filled my cunt in one thrust as he mounted me. I could actually feel him trembling as he pounded inside me, my knees sliding just a bit with each thrust. I started to speak, to beg him to fuck me harder, when my head exploded in pain, and my upper body slumped to the floor. If I could have focused, I'd have realized he'd punched me in the back of the head. But I was in pain, masked in a sea of confusion as he pounded my cunt. I was vaguely aware of him cussing and yelling at me. I heard fragments of words. "Cunt", "sick bitch", somewhere in that was a "Fucking hate you" and a "why couldn't you have disappeared," but honestly, that might have only been a thought running through my own damaged mind.

Fists flew along my back and sides, and my hair was pulled so hard I screamed as it felt like he was ripping it out while his cock slid in and out of my scarred vagina. He was pumping in me furiously. I was in pain from all over when I shuddered, screaming and sobbing, and squirted on his cock. My pussy leaked my juices as I spasmed without control.

"You fucking disgust me," Teddy said as he sped up, fucking me flat on the floor, spread wide as he plowed my cunt with his cock. I felt one more hit to my head and then heard him grunting as he filled my cunt with his cum. All I could do was lay there, the room spinning, about to puke as he came in me. Then I felt a sudden grunt of pain as he pushed off me, using my back, and stood over me. I heard his zipper pull back up. I was flipped over and looked at him, still half wild. My body was a mess of bruises and pain. My left eye was swollen shut, my cheeks were red, and one of them was turning purple. He pulled his fist back, and it trembled, and I don't know what I wanted more. Him to beat me or to stop. I'm not sure he knew any better. While he had fucked me, it had been much more of a beating. He then threw me down again.

"Get yourself cleaned up, you stupid sack of shit," he said. Again, the disgust in his voice was palpable. But slowly, reality began to seep back in. His disgust was nothing next to what I was starting to feel as the world returned. It took three tries for me to stand up, and I barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up. Heaving into it as everything came back into focus. I didn't even bother to rinse out my mouth. I just staggered back into the hall and got my stick, crying. It was the cry of a small child, hurt by the world, as I cradled it and went to my bed, cum leaking down my legs. I didn't care about cleaning up. I just wanted to know what the fuck was wrong with me. The old hate had returned with a vengeance. I stayed in my room until Mom screamed at me ten times for dinner, and I finally came out and sat down at the table. Teddy wouldn't even look at me. Mom, already drunk, didn't even notice until about ten minutes into the dinner.

"What the fuck happened to you?" she asked, slurring her words just a bit.

Looking down, unable to even glance in Teddy's direction, I muttered that I had gotten into a fight. She sighed at that. Made that frustrated sound every Mom can master, even the shitty ones.

"God damn, you're just one massive fuckup, aren't you?" She asked, disgusted at me.

"Yes, Mom," I muttered. And I knew deep down both she, Teddy,  and my rapist were all right about me.

Chapter 10: SuicideSummary:Cindy gives up, feeling the absolute worst about herself, and decides to end her life.

Notes:This chapter is not meant to, in any way, glorify or promote suicide. If you have suicidal thoughts, please get help. It's terrifying but there are people who care and who can help. If you are struggling, please go to http://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/# or call 1-800-273-8255.

Read the tags!

If you want to contact me, my information is in my profile. I'm always happy to say hi and chat, and if you're a bad man, maybe do even more.

Chapter TextThat night, after taking a bottle of vodka to bed with me, I lay in the bed. I still hadn't showered or cleaned myself. Teddy's cum was still in me, dried along the side of my leg and in my cunt. The state of my mind as I was there would have been hard to explain. I was beyond tired. I was beyond numb. I had been so angry at first. At Teddy. At myself. At life. I had cradled that damned stick like a life vest in a roaring sea. My mind was a jumbled mess. I was still heavily nauseous, likely from having another concussion after the beating/fucking I had received. I just wanted to make sense of it. To find some way to understand why I had acted that way. But I couldn't, so I cried and slept until dinner. Then Mom had berated me, and I felt so fucking pathetic.

You'd think the final breaking of a person would be dramatic. That it would be huge, something to be in awe of. It wasn't even a whimper for me. When my mom, the alcoholic wonder, had called me a massive fuckup, I just gave up. After all I had been through so far, you'd think that wouldn't have fazed me much. But after whatever you would call what Teddy and I had done, I was hanging by a thread. There I was, my left eye swollen shut, black and blue, and she hadn't even noticed for ten minutes. And when I offered her a weak excuse, she didn't even pry. She didn't even ask about it. She didn't notice that Teddy didn't want to look at me, nor me him. No, she didn't see any of that. Because she didn't care. And after what she said, I didn't either. I was just too tired of it all. I barely finished my meal, took some vodka, hit my room, and drank. And drank.

Sometime during the evening, I passed out. I was too empty to even cry. I just felt hollow. As I slept, my nightmares came as they did most nights. I relived that first rape. And in it, my death. In most of my dreams, I lived just like reality. But tonight, the dream had ended in my death, and yet I hadn't woken up screaming as I usually did. I didn't wake up sobbing. I didn't wake up at all. I slept soundly. It was probably one of the few nights of peaceful rest since that night. It was like I already knew. It was my mind's way of saying it was time.

I woke up the following day when Mom tried to get me to school, but I wasn't having any of it. I told her to fuck off and got back in bed. Teddy was still avoiding me. Not one word had been exchanged between us since yesterday afternoon. I didn't blame him. I was disgusted with myself, too. I was a walking pile of shit, and I had gotten my stink on him. So yeah, he avoided me. Mom gave up without too much of a fight as she headed off to her temp job. Working front desk at some office. She even seemed to be completely sober for once. Teddy had already bolted out for whatever errands he had to run. So, I had the trailer to myself.

I hadn't really planned it like that, for the trailer to be empty, but part of me was glad it was. It would be better this way. After my dream last night, I knew what my problem was. I simply had never corrected the situation. I was supposed to have died that night. And everything since then had just been a long reminder of that. I just simply had to stop struggling. It really was that simple, and I wondered why I hadn't done anything before then. I had wished that I had died a thousand times but had never done anything to make it happen until now. I had nothing left to give. I didn't want to fight. I didn't want to struggle. I just wanted to go away. Everyone would be happier without me. I truly believed that. I was just a mistake. And it was time to correct it.

I walked back into the bathroom and filled the hot water. It was almost scalding, but I didn't really care. I even poured in some bubble bath. Looking back, I have no idea why. Habit? Comfort? Who knows why we do the things we do when we are nothing but balls of pain. After running my hand through the hot water, I stood up and walked to the medicine cabinet. It was full of drugs, both legal and not. I didn't even think about using something like a razor blade. Even before the rape, I hadn't liked sharp things, and I knew I would chicken out if I tried something like that. It was the blood I couldn't deal with. Even now, I hated it. Seeing it. Why a bruise was okay but a cut was not, I don't know. But it was. I looked in the back until I finally found some sleeping pills. The bottle was almost completely full, offering the promise of what I wanted. What I deserved.

To relax, so that it would soon be over.

I took them, returning to my room as the tub slowly filled. I found the vodka from last night, still mostly full, and took it and my phone back into the bathroom with me. I climbed into the tub, and the heat hurt in a good way. My skin was red almost instantly, but was nothing I couldn't handle. Indeed, the warmth quickly felt nice. It bubbled well, and I turned off the water after another minute. I laid my head back and thought about what I was doing. If I hadn't pushed away my friends, I could have reached out to them. But it had been over a month since either of them had spoken to me. I had done too good a job ruining what we had. Go me. I put some music on, just the instrumentals of Les Misérables. I had always enjoyed Schönberg's music and wanted to hear it one last time. So I soaked in the hot tub, chugged away at the fifth, and sometimes played with and rattled the bottle of pills.

I wish I could say I had second doubts or worried what others would think. Of who would find me. What my old friends would have felt upon hearing I was dead. But I didn't. I was a selfish cunt who just wanted the pain to end. I couldn't live with the emptiness anymore, and what filled that emptiness scared me even more. I knew, deep down, that I was beyond saving. I was just fixing a cosmic mistake. God had blinked and missed something. So I started taking the pills three at a time, swallowing them with vodka. Just one, two, three, swig. One, two, three, swig. It was easier than I thought it would be, and I just wanted to slip away. Lean back and just cease to exist. I half wondered, as I was getting fuzzy from the drink and the pills, if I would drown. Would I fall asleep and slide down, and would that finish me? It honestly didn't matter. I didn't matter. I was a colossal fuck-up, and it was time for me to go. I swallowed the last of the pills, closed my eyes, and said goodbye as I went to sleep.

Chapter 11: Can't even do that rightSummary:Cindy finds herself alive, confused, and "drowning" in the tub as her attempt at suicide fails.

Notes:Read the tags!

If you want to contact me, my information is in my profile. I'm always happy to say hi, chat, and if you're a bad man, maybe do even more.

Chapter TextSuicide is an odd thing. Depending on the method, it can be very easy to attempt or very difficult. Attempt is the key word here because you can always fuck it up. Try to blow your brains out, but instead, you are left a vegetable. Slice your wrists and maybe just be left with new scars to explain. Take a bottle of sleeping pills, expecting to go on the long sleep, and find out they don't work like that anymore. That's the problem with taking such an unoriginal way out. Tons have done it before you, so companies have tweaked their formulas. Maybe I should have studied online first, but research has never been my thing. So once again, I fucked things up.

One million people a year kill themselves, and I can't even do that right. Fuck my life.

The first thing that tipped me off that something was wrong was pain. Pain in my gut, throat, and cheek. Also all over my body. I couldn't focus worth a shit and was still so out of it that even opening my eyes was a challenge. Pins and needles were stabbing my body all over. I didn't know what was going on. Well, I knew enough to know I wasn't dead. I was wet still, but it all felt wrong. I was sliding underwater. Water rushed at my face, and my body convulsed. My eyes were half-lidded as I leaned over the tub and hurled, noticing that my throat was already so fucking raw. Why was my throat so raw? If I was bent over, why was my face still in the water? None of it made sense.

The music from my phone was screaming at me. Just ranting and saying things that were all jumbled. I didn't remember any of it from Les Misérables. I tried to push the water away, trying to cry as my stomach surged again. I bent over and hurled as I gripped the sides of the tub. I couldn't see anything. My eyes were wet and water was still hitting my face as I struggled to get out from under it. There was a foul stink in the air as my gut convulsed again, and I whimpered in humiliation as my bowels let loose. Strangely, for someone who wanted to die, I became worried about how they would find me. Apparently, me dead and cold in a tub was fine. Dead and covered in vomit and shit was not. I flailed as I was drowning again in the tub. I was ashamed that they would find me having fouled myself. Again, the pins and needles hit my body all over as I apparently pulled my face free from the water. I shuddered, so cold. It wasn't fair. I was supposed to go to sleep. Why couldn't I go to sleep?

My face felt a sharp pain again, and I wondered if I had slipped and hit the edge of it. Had I slumped down? Nothing made sense. There was just too much noise from my phone. It was screaming at me again to wake up, which didn't make sense. Why would my phone care about me? No one cared about me. I fucking didn't care about me. I struggled again, doubling up and puking. Water hit my face as I sobbed, my throat burning. Why couldn't I just fucking drown? I tried to focus again, my arms pushing against the water in front of me, but I couldn't hold it. It kept rushing through my hands as I fell through it. So cold. I felt another slap, and I tried to grab at it. What? A slap? I tried to open my eyes. I was so fucking tired, and I cried and just wanted to know what was going on. Did God hate me that much? What was wrong?

All I saw through the water as I tried to open my eyes was a blurry mess that made no sense. Something moved over me as my phone screamed my name, and I tried to turn away. I just wanted to go away. Why couldn't I go away? Why did I have to hurt more as I curled up on my side and lost control again, puking and voiding myself? I was jerked upright and was drowning again. The cold needles hit my face, teasing me but not letting me suffocate. Why?

I heard my name screamed at me again as I started shaking violently while slaps rang in my ears. I pushed hard, and something pushed me back. Nothing made sense. The blurry object was over me, and my phone screamed at me in Teddy's voice. Why did my phone have Teddy's voice? Why was it telling me to wake up? I didn't want to. I wanted to quit. I had fucking said goodbye. Suddenly, my vision cleared briefly, and my face hurt a bit. Someone was over me. My eye was pried open, and my phone talked. No, not my phone. Teddy? I didn't understand.

"Cindy! Cindy! Stay awake, dammit!" he yelled at me. I whimpered, sobbing, and my throat felt foul. My stomach and ass churned. I thrashed hysterically as Teddy held me as still as he could. I saw the shower head now as he turned me a bit, hosing my backside. Then my face again. Something had gone wrong. I didn't know what. It was all I could do to think straight. He kept talking to me, but almost none of it made sense. I tried to close my eyes, but the sharp pain of cold water on my face and chest hit me again. How long this went on, I don't know.

Later on, I'd realize what had happened. The pile of sleeping pills and too much vodka had been rejected by my body. Enough had been taken into my system, however, to fuck with me though. My lack of body control, confusion, and disjointed memories of it were all side effects. Teddy kept at me the entire time, though. Of course, he didn't call the cops or the hospital, but maybe he'd been through that before. It's easy to hate on someone and second guess them, but he'd came back and found me. He kept me from choking to death on my own vomit. It was all confusing as I found myself in my bed as if nothing had happened.

Eventually, I stopped throwing up. I became more aware of what was happening, even if I couldn't focus much. The water got warmer. No. That wasn't right. It had gotten less cold. I think he turned on some heat once I started responding to him. I mostly just cried, from what I remember, as he cleaned me once I finally stopped vomiting and shitting myself. He had carried me to my bedroom as I clung to him. I had whimpered, a small child in his arms. Lost. So fucking lost. Then, there was a bright light in my eyes and voices near me as he talked to someone. Apparently, he'd found a body? No. That was me. He'd found me. Overdosed in the tub. Convulsing. I dozed in and out, only to be woken with a slap or another bright light to my eye. Voices, a hand at my throat. No, fingers. It's all so disjointed now. This morning, I had planned to die. I was going to fix everything. And I screwed it up. I just wanted to go. I couldn't do anything right. So I curled up, still chilled to the bone, under the blankets and slept fitfully as Teddy watched over me.

Chapter 12: A rough few daysSummary:Cindy continues to recover from her suicide attempt as she copes with her failure and apathy about life and herself.

Notes:Read the tags!

If you want to contact me, my information is in my profile. I'm always happy to say hi and chat, and if you're a bad man, maybe do even more.

Chapter TextI hallucinated some that first night. I don't remember most of it now, except it felt terrifying. Dark shapes that weren't really there. Reality peeled away. Demons gutted me. But I could remember nothing in detail. Even though I had "expelled" most of the pills, what was left in me had really fucked me up. At some point, Mom came home. I had fragments of her or Teddy taking care of me. Making me drink water. Making me wake up regularly. The next day wasn't much better. The hallucinations had stopped at some point, but I was still completely out of it. They said I talked some. Would ramble on. Or cry.

Moving was still out of the picture. Teddy would take me to the bathroom or clean me up if I made a mess. Mom would clean the sheets. Otherwise, I certainly didn't remember much of it. Just flashes, sounds, tattered remnants, and jagged edges of memories. Mom would later claim she apologized to me. For not knowing the pain I was in. Maybe she did. They still didn't take me for help. Teddy had talked her out of it, saying that my beating might be blamed on them. Of course, he had done it. He was always protecting his ass. Course, he had protected mine, too. When Teddy had found me convulsing and vomiting in the tub, unable to move, he could have shut the door and walked back out. No one would have known. But for whatever reason, he hadn't. He'd saved my life, such as it was.

Friday, two days later after my attempt, was when things started to make sense again. My mind was still disjointed, and my body felt sluggish. But I could move. They still helped me, but I could mostly get around on my own. I tried to eat and puked most of it back up. Water stayed down, though. I got shaky and wanted/needed a drink as well, and when Mom was out of the room, Teddy would let me have a sip. He knew better than my mom just how much I'd been drinking. She'd been oblivious to everything. But that was mom. Anyway, they didn't need to change or clean me anymore. I was still closely watched, though. Mom sat on the toilet while I took my first shower under my own power Friday afternoon. Apparently, I was having a bad case of the flu, according to the school. Teddy had gone out to pick up my work while I cleaned myself and enjoyed the heat. No one still had asked the big question. And I was terrified of it being asked. I still felt empty. The dead bitch was still in the mirror, looking back at me. But something was different. I simply didn't care anymore. I was scared of the question being asked because it might make me care. That would be hard. That could hurt me. If I didn't care, I couldn't hurt. I had failed to do something that I thought people did easily. It just wasn't part of the plan. Some people don't get to take the easy way out. I mostly just took the shower numbly, the warmth on my body the only thing any part of me felt.

I got out, and Mom helped dry me off and walked me back into the bedroom. I dressed in my pajamas and shuffled through the rest of Friday and Saturday. It was then that Mom finally asked me why I had tried to kill myself. I can remember it so fucking vividly, years later.

"Honey, why did you try to kill yourself?" she had asked, doing her best imitation of a real mom. I had been finally fully aware, no fogginess or confusion. I had strangely enjoyed, on some level, some of the attention I had been getting, from both of them. It had been so nice. Numb as I fucking was, it felt like they were at least trying. It felt almost like we were a real family. So I tried. I told her the truth.

"I feel," I stammered, looking for the right words. "I feel like I've been dead since I was raped," I said. "I just wanted to make it real, Mom. I'm sorry," I said. I wish I had cried, but no tears came as I told her. She held my hand and rubbed it.

"It'll get better, honey," she said. She then patted my hand again and stood up, looking sad. And then she went back into the kitchen. And that was it. That was the entire discussion. Don't worry dear reader. I didn't break down. I didn't cry. I didn't despair at the neglect. I was past that now. I was empty. But I would deal. If I couldn't kill myself, if I couldn't get that right, I'd exist. I had gotten good at existing. So I went back to the schoolwork in front of me, which I didn't care about. And later that night, I ate dinner that I didn't care about. Then I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, which I didn't care about. I looked in the mirror at the dead-eyed girl. Her, I really fucking didn't care about. And I went to bed, in my room, none of which I cared about. I closed my eyes and prayed for my nightmares. As fucked up as they were. They made me feel something. And that, I did care about.

Chapter 13: ApologySummary:Teddy attempts to find out what caused Cindy's attempt and apologize for any part he played in it.

Notes:Read the tags!

If you want to contact me, my information is in my profile. I'm always happy to say hi and chat, and if you're a bad man, maybe do even more.

Chapter TextThings began to settle down into a new, numb, normal. I just slid through one day to the next, fumbling blindly. I didn't care about anything anymore. Well, that wasn't exactly true. I cared about the stick. I cared about my nightmares. I cared about the pot or vodka that helped me suffer through my existence. That was about it. Mom, she didn't see a thing. All she saw was her own shitty life and getting what she wanted out of it. Which surprisingly, for whatever reasons I fully admit I was too selfish to care about, meant she was actually trying for once at work. All I noticed were two things, how I never had to hunt anymore for some vodka and how she was gone most nights, at least until late. She was working 2nd shift somewhere and holding it down. That was fine by me, except it left me alone with Teddy more.

For the first week, we mostly avoided each other. Teddy had barely spoken to me outside of a grunt since he'd saved me in the shower. It was like he hated to even be around me, and to be fair, I hadn't sought him out either. I hadn't even thanked him for what he had done yet. Probably because I didn't know if there was anything to thank him for. Should I be happy I was alive or angry at my continued existence? That was a question I wasn't prepared to deal with head-on.

One night, about a week after my suicide attempt, however, he came into my room. I was in an oversized t-shirt, stoned out of my gourd, with Netflix playing some cartoon in the background. He opened the door, frowned at me, then walked on in. Out of it as I was, I sat up nervously. Only now was my face recovering from the black eye he'd given me. He seemed to hesitate as I sat up, then continued on beside my bed and sat down on the edge of it. He refused to stare at me and momentarily focused on his hands, fumbling with them before finally speaking up.

"Did... did you do it because of me?" he asked. The words didn't come easily from him. It seemed like he fought for each one. Or maybe I was just too stoned. I basically sat there, trying to understand what he meant.

"Wha... What?" I barely stammered out. His eyes flashed at me as he angrily grabbed the joint from my hand and tossed it aside.

"Did you try to kill yourself because we fucked?"

At that, I almost laughed. Teddy's eyes narrowed as I started to, then I realized how serious he was. He didn't know. He didn't understand. What was I supposed to say to him? Yes, you're fully responsible? No, you weren't? The truth was he was and wasn't, and everything in between. Fuck, the rape or sex or whatever we'd done was among the least important things that had led to it. Everything else, though, hadn't exactly helped.

"That? No. It's been... Was... Everything was piling up. And I broke..." I told him. I wanted to explain, but the words I needed weren't there. I leaned towards him a bit, and he took my hand. It was warm and easily covered mine. He honestly looked sad to me as he rubbed my hand gently.

"I'm sorry if I made things worse," Teddy said softly. I barely heard the words as he spoke them. I knew I liked the feel of his hands on mine. He was so close to me. He was apologizing to me. He cared. That was the only thought running through my mind as I clung to him. I pressed my face against his chest. He seemed startled by my response. I pushed myself tighter against him and felt the warmth of his body. He cared. I slid my head from his chest to his face and kissed him. There was a wonderful pause where my heart fluttered. A spark that tried to burn. Then reality crashed in a tidal wave to snuff it out. As suddenly as it started, I felt myself being shoved violently away. My back and head bounced off the headboard, and I whimpered, confused.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I try to... fuck, and you...," he stammered, his body shaking with rage. He grabbed my hair and screamed at me, punching my sides and my back. The room went spinning as one blow nailed the back of my head. He was just wailing on me as I quivered in pain. And then, as fast as it had started, it stopped. I was shaking hard, my head and back were throbbing, and everything was spinning so fast that I threw up a bit in my mouth. I looked up, and I saw Teddy, his fist pulled back. I knew he wanted to hit me. Part of me wanted him to hit me. He was right. I was fucked up. I also wanted to kiss him, but there was none of that in him. He shook in fury. He was full of disgust. He finally pulled away and rushed out of the room.

"Just stay the fuck away from me, you crazy piece of shit," he spat out as my door slammed shut. I sat there, hurt, trembling, and shoved my face into my pillow and screamed. I shuddered as I punched my bed and slapped at the side of my head. I cried for the first time since my attempt, grabbed my dresser, and pulled out the drawer in one jerk as it crashed to the floor. I didn't care. I grabbed the stick and just jabbed it in my cunt as I cried, conflicting emotions pouring out of me. Every time I thought I was empty, I learned I could drop a bit more.

I moaned, mostly in pain, as I fucked myself with it. I hadn't lubed myself, and though I was wet for some reason, I wasn't nearly wet enough. It didn't matter though. I just needed to feel. And despite everything, the pain did feel good. It wasn't long before I was twitching on the stick and cumming hard. I still hadn't fully put two and two together, instead operating more on instinct than anything else. It was good enough, though, as I lay there, my pussy aching and raw as the orgasm ripped through me. I couldn't figure out my place or where I fit in anymore. I twitched, panting hard, unaware of the new best friend I would be making soon. So I just let go and cried myself to sleep.

Chapter 14: Christmas at WalmartSummary:Time moves on for Cindy as the months go by, her mom relapses, and Cindy sees someone at Walmart that she thought she would never see again.

Notes:Read the tags!

If you want to contact me, my information is in my profile. I'm always happy to say hi and chat, and if you're a bad man, maybe do even more.

Chapter TextAfter that, I mostly avoided Teddy. He was constantly stomping around the house, giving me hateful glares. Mom, he took care of. It was me that he hated. Me, that couldn't do anything right. Most days passed with few words between us, and the ones that did always came after I dropped something or found some way to do something wrong.

"Stupid shit," "God, you're a fuckwit", and the ilk were a constant refrain. Sometimes, he'd accent his words with a slap to my face or the back of my head. I'd just take it, saying nothing. Just another piece of humanity bitch slapped out of me. One day, I managed to spill some milk and was terrified. Mom had left for work, and there I was, literally trembling because I'd knocked my cup over. He was on me in a second, and I whimpered as my side exploded in pain, then my cheek, then my hip as I was kicked to the kitchen floor.

"Clean up your mess, you stupid sack of shit!" was the kind words he blessed me with that day. I just nodded and prayed to God he didn't smell me. I knew that would have unleashed a more severe beating, as that was the root cause of everything anyway. I stank like a cheap whore often after he hit me or when I hurt myself at night. I had started wearing sweats all the time around him. No more long shirts, boy shorts, or anything like that. Besides the cold, I needed to hide what I was doing. He knew the bruises and injuries, none serious, that he was causing. He didn't know about the small cuts along my inner thigh. My newest body decorations that I had added myself. My bruised and often swollen lips where the rough bark had worn my tender skin raw. The cuts on the inner bit of my upper arm. All easy enough to hide. All hurt just enough to let me feel momentarily alive. No, that would have made him furious. But for now, time just went by.

My GPA had dropped to an all-time low—a glorious 1.5 that surely made me the envy of all my peers. I didn't care, nor did they, so it didn't matter. Thanksgiving arrived and passed with little fanfare. It was a quiet, uncomfortable dinner that finally marked a turning point in Mom's quest for sobriety. It ended with a bottle of red wine decorating the wall and yelling punctuating the night. It was just another wonderful night as things drifted into December. At least December meant Christmas.

Now, Christmas wasn't a religious holiday to us. Like most people, at least the honest ones, it was about getting shit, and with moms until recent regular work and Teddy's profession, we had some spare cash to buy shit we didn't really need or want. But that's what the season is for, right?

It was around 7PM, and we had been shopping for clothes, a Blu-Ray player for some reason, and some assorted shit. I had a mild buzz but was functioning well enough. My hair was a mess, but otherwise, I looked better than most people at Walmart, if remarkably plain in my worn-out t-shirt and faded jeans. Nothing special, but it's not like I was looking for attention anyway. But something did catch mine.

I saw him as I turned the corner near the women's bras. Not one hundred feet away, near the shoes, was him. The rapist. The man who'd left me for dead. I froze like a deer in headlights as a freight train of emotions crashed through me. I couldn't move, couldn't think, and even my breathing was coming only in hitches as my heart did its very best to rip out of my chest. I was so in shock I didn't even feel the warm gush of piss running down my legs. My denim pants, in the crotch and thighs, turned a darker shade of blue, and my socks grew soggy. I don't know if people could hear or smell it, but the chill air against my warm pants slowly made me realize what had happened. Tears ran down my face as I wanted to scream, run, pass out, anything but stand there. Frozen, helpless all again.

I wish I knew how long I stood there. It felt like hours and was likely less than a minute. And then, my rapist turned. And it was no one. Just some random guy. My legs and body unfroze, and I just ran to the restroom in the back, hit the stall, and locked it. I was shaking as I put my hands in my face and just cried. A fucking stranger, just a fucking stranger. I smelled my piss-stained jeans and wept. Merry fucking Christmas.

Chapter 15: My new best friendSummary:Cindy helps out at Teddy's Christmas party but meets one of Teddy's friends, who introduces her to new things.

Notes:Read the tags!

If you want to contact me, my information is in my profile. I'm always happy to say hi and chat, and if you're a bad man, maybe do even more.

Chapter TextAfter that embarrassment, Christmas sneaked one week closer. Teddy, having always been the entertainer for our little shitty trailer park, decided that we needed to have a Christmas party for everyone. During the summer, it's easy. Just fire up the grill and set out some tables, and it doesn't matter that you have a tiny yard and live in a double-wide. With cold weather in full effect, you can't exactly invite multiple people over while it's below-freezing outside. So Teddy instead got the park manager to open up their "warehouse," bring in some electric and kerosene heaters and plenty of tables, and got people to bring some food. They even gathered some money for the little kids so they could get some presents and shit.

Now, if you think that's an odd thing for a drug dealer to do, you're probably visualizing the wrong kind of dealer. Teddy wasn't some street corner thug. Nor was he some high-level drug kingpin. What he did have were some cousins who were very active in the smuggling business and were kind enough, for enough green and the occasional favor, to give him a small amount of their much larger hauls. So, that took care of the supply side, at least as far as I knew about it. For all I knew, his cousins might not have been actual cousins. As to his business, it was really simple. Teddy, for all his faults, was a people person. He made friends wherever he went, and he made sure those friends were happy. Which was why people were always over to the trailer, why he had cookouts, and why he was having the Christmas party. A clean cop with an honest neighbor could have easily watched the handshakes, the "mail" that went to the wrong house, and the small bag of leftovers people took home. But they never left unhappy. You'd be shocked how many people buy drugs right in front of their own kids and spouses, them none the wiser to it.

I had the misfortune of having to help set up for it. Not that I had a choice, of course. I mean, who can refuse the polite request, "To be fucking useful for once?" So I had found myself straightening the area, setting up tables, and shit. I was dressed in my "sexiest" clothes. A nice blouse with some stains on it, making the red more maroon in spots. Then just a pair of jeans and tennis shoes. Why, I had even showered and brushed my teeth. I joke, but I looked far better than I typically did. For whatever reason, I wanted the night to go smoothly. Maybe then I wouldn't get a hateful glare or a slap from Teddy.

Turnout was good, as it usually was at these things. It was bitterly cold outside, but the heaters were handling it well, and everyone was warm, and soon, likely, most everyone would be buzzed at least a bit, one way or another. Not everyone there was from the trailer park, however. Teddy always made sure all his connections at least got an invite. Even if they didn't want to slum it, they knew they had the choice. Kids were playing; most were younger than me, and the ones closer to my age had no desire to be around the mostly older crowd. Plus, it would have been awkward if they bought some pot at the same time their parents did. That would be some fine and fun family conversations.

Despite the older crowd, many of them were there for Teddy, so when I started nursing a beer, no one cared. In places like that, there tended to be two types of parents. Those that were cool and didn't care if their kids drank, as long as they were present and they weren't making fools of themselves. And those that just didn't give a fuck. My mom, of course, clearly belonged in that second group. Anyway, as people sat and chatted, I found the closest thing to a dark corner. I was looking out towards the interstate when a hand touched my back and slid down to the top of my ass, warm in the cold air. I turned and saw that it was one of Teddy's long-time buddies, Glenn.

Now, it's pretty simple to describe Glenn. Take a frat douchebag. This is important. A regular douchebag isn't nearly good enough. Then, sprinkle a tiny bit of charisma and an unwarranted amount of self-worth. Then, pour liberally in a heaping of that special arrogant sales talk that loves to use meaningless jargon. You know the kind. "Actualizing the message" or "focusing on the customer's unmet needs" and all that jazz. He'd groped me on and off since I was 12, at least. He was one of those "joker" guys. Every woman knows them. They are the guys who say or do something and, when called out on it, say they were "just joking." You know, it's your fault you didn't get the joke when they snapped your thong or hugged you just a bit too long while they sniffed your hair. That type.

Anyway, Glenn, holding my butt, smiled at me with his shit-eating grin and asked, "Aren't you a bit young to be drinking that."

I wanted to laugh in his face, as I could probably out-drink his sorry ass, but I was being generous tonight.

"Aren't you a bit old to be grabbing my ass?" I asked, taking another long drink.

He grinned bigger at that. Most of the time, when he did something, I slapped him or tried to at least. Or told him to go fuck himself. This time, I did neither. And sniffing a difference in my actions, he pounced. Leaning in, hand still firmly on my ass, he pulled himself closer.

"Maybe so, but I didn't hear a no," he said as he placed his warm hand on the back of my neck, massaging it. "Why are you drinking so much tonight?"

I smirked and let him touch me. I didn't care anymore. To be honest, the attention felt good. "It's a long night. I only just started," I said, looking up at him. He leaned up against my ear, and I trembled. His eyes narrowed. It was then that he knew. I had known the second he had touched me, breathing in my ear.

"Long nights don't have to be all bad," he said. He squeezed my neck harder, and I just looked down, my hand holding the beer shaking. "I've even got better shit than that. You look like you need a pick me up." I nodded dumbly at that and felt myself walking towards the opposite corner. Crossing the patchwork of people as we kept to the edges. I felt his finger entwine around my thong that was sticking out a bit, pulling it against me. We reached the bathrooms, and he led me into the men's room. He didn't even hesitate. They were smallish, just a stall and a urinal. I mostly stood there dumbly as he locked the door behind him.

Turning, he smiled and rushed to the sink, pulling out a small vial. I looked at it hesitantly. It wasn't that I was suddenly anti-drug. I'd simply never had access to cocaine before. Teddy sold it, but it wasn't part of his stash that he'd have taken well to me "borrowing." Glenn smiled at me, grasped my arm, and drew me close.

"First time?" he smiled. God, I hated that fucking smug look on his face. However, I was open to pretty much anything, and he was right. I wrinkled my nose in anticipation. Anyone who has ever had soda squirt up their nose can tell you how enjoyable that is. But the need to feel anything at all is a powerful compulsion. I nodded as he made four fat lines and did one. It was interesting to see the clear and sudden rush on his face. I'd never used anything that had that quick of an effect. That should have made me nervous. I was more intrigued. He smiled at me and offered me the rolled bill. His hand slid down my back, inside my pants, as he directly cupped my ass. I wish I would have hesitated. But I wanted to feel something.

I bent over as he groped my ass more and did a line, forcing myself to down it quickly. It burned, but not like I was expecting it to. I was expecting something more painful. Intense. But it wasn't. What it was, I'd learn later, was some primo shit. What I did feel was... better. As Glenn massaged my ass, he reached around and unbuttoned my pants, unzipping them. I felt him reach around and cup my breasts as my pants slid down around my ankles. I felt it. I felt amped. I felt like I'd drank a dozen cups of coffee, but I wasn't jittery at all. I was fucking crystal clear. I felt right, or closer to right, than I had in months. I didn't feel drugged at all. Hell, I felt stone fucking cold sober. I gasped a bit as I felt my bra push over my tits as he ground against my ass. I mewed as he pinched my nipples. I felt 100%, completely on. It's so fucking hard to describe.

I didn't feel broken. At least not mentally. I fit. I fucking fit in the world again. Glenn reached around me and carefully put the coke on top of the toilet, then pushed my shoulders down until my now exposed tits, with my bunched-up bra and the blouse shoved over them, were pressed against the cold porcelain. It felt so good. I wasn't fucking high. I was right. I was on. I was being fucked. I didn't feel fear, depression, anxiety, or even lust. I was just more complete than I probably have ever been in my life. I felt an odd drip as I rocked back and forth while he fucked me, like sinus drainage. It wasn't and tasted funny, but it was fine, too. Everything was so fucking fine as I purred, spreading myself as he pumped my cunt. I barely felt or cared about it, tho.

No, it wasn't that I didn't care about it. It wasn't enough. It wasn't perfect enough. I looked back as Glenn fucked my pussy, and I whimpered, "Fuck my ass."

I almost laughed out loud at the look on his face. But he was happy to oblige. I felt him spread my cheeks and push in, and it hurt and felt good, and it was glorious. I panted like an animal, full of energy, full of life that I hadn't known since that goddamned night, and I was lost in it. He grabbed my hair and jerked my head back, riding me. I didn't care that my hips ached from hitting the sink.  I bucked back, feeling my ass tense on his cock. I yelped as he slapped my ass again and again.

"Take that, bitch, you nasty fuck!"

I quivered. I was fingering my cunt furiously as my ass bucked against him. I suddenly felt him moan, and I needed, wanted his cum. I spun around and almost instantly regretted it. He quickly thrust in my mouth, and I tasted my ass heavily on it. I hadn't cleaned or prepped and was now gagging on that. He was too excited, though, and pumped my mouth hard, holding my head as he came in it. I choked the cum and rest down, but as soon as he let up and pulled out of my mouth, I rushed to the toilet, throwing up. The taste was on my lips and tongue, and my stomach heaved as I puked again. I was laughing, though. It was an angry laugh, but I felt so fucking good I couldn't stay upset. He was laughing, too. At me. But I didn't care. I wiped my mouth, cupped some water from the sink, and rinsed my mouth out while he snorted another line.

"What fucked up your stomach?" he asked, which just made me feel shitty for the first time since we'd gone in there. I'd sucked shit off his cock, and that didn't even do that. I jerked down my blouse, but he pulled it back up.

"It's OK. I like broken things," Glenn said as he pointedly touched the small scars on the top of my inner thighs.

I pulled my shirt down again, fixed my clothes, and properly cleaned myself on the toilet. Glenn stood there smirking the whole damn time. He offered me another line as I finished straightening up, and I eagerly took it.

I felt his hand possessively on my ass again.

"Let's get the fuck out of here, Cindy." He grabbed my hand, and we snuck out of the bathroom and headed to his car. As we drove off, my heart was pounding. I was fucking complete. And I was in love with my new best friend.

Chapter 16: Highs and LowsSummary:Cindy goes home with Glenn from the party but finds out that getting drugs from him comes with strings attached.

Notes:Read the tags!

If you want to contact me, my information is in my profile. I'm always happy to say hi and chat, and if you're a bad man, maybe do even more.

Chapter TextThe rest of my night at Glenn's was interesting to say the least. I learned to get used to the nasal drip in my mouth, that tastes quite different from anything before. I learned that just as cocaine hit you fast, it dropped you quickly to. My wonderful new friend didn't show me that so much at first. In the car to Glenn's I was stroking and sucking his cock. I felt like I was the best fuck he'd probably ever had, despite the fact that not ten minutes before I had learned why ass to mouth is something you typically should prep for.

I played with him as we went up to his apartment, absolute in my certainty that despite his struggle to stay hard, I was a gift to him. The focus, clarity, that I had told me everything I needed to know. I was good. We stumbled in his place, as he rapidly tore off my clothes again, as I pulled his pants to the floor and deep throated him, working his cock hard again. He asked me if I wanted some more coke, to which my answer was yes. I was still feeling great but my "high" wasn't like getting baked or drunk. I didn't feel high. I felt "on" and maybe more would get me high.

He wagged his finger no, though.

"I want you to eat my ass. Ever done that little girl?" he asked. I shook my head no and he flashed that damn grin again. I wanted to say no, having experienced more than I had planned earlier but he set pulled out of a drawer some cock and I nodded eagerly.

He bent over the table, doing another line as I hesitantly spread his cheeks. Unless you just came out of a shower, it won't ever smell like roses of course. But it wasn't horrible, just a musky or earthy smell, only vaguely reminiscent of shit. I tender touched my tongue on his hairy cheek, running it around when I felt his hand press my head into the center.

"Don't tease Ally, lick my fucking ass"

So I did as I was told. Honestly I was expecting more taste of scat and while his ass wasn't flavorful, it was nothing like that experience. I heard him tell me to stroke and I reached between his legs to pump his cock, which was already struggling to stay hard, my tongue probing and exploring his ass. It was long and sweaty work to keep him hard, but after close to ten minutes or so I finally felt him begin to tense as he spun around. I tried to catch it in my mouth but he aimed higher, cumming on my forehead and hair. It felt harsh, cheap, as I felt it drop in my hair, then back to my mouth to clean him. He made me a line and pulled me up.

"Let me clean up real quick and," I started to say when he held my hand.

"Leave it" he said, and wanting more of my friend, I complied. I felt like shit for doing it but my 3rd go in about an hour let me know I had made the right decision as we made out and talked, for a bit before he looked at his phone and told me it was time to go. I nodded, rolling out of his bed and dressing, when I noticed he was still nude.

"Aren't you going to throw something on?" I asked, half joking when he told me flatly, "No"

"What, but the TARC stopped running like over 2 hours ago?"

He sighed, drew out a twenty from his wallet by the stand and handed it to me.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Call a fucking cab, I don't know" he said, apparently frustrated at my lack of leaving. He then pushed me out, as I felt used, performing my first (or second, depending how you look at it) walk of shame. I called a cab, half freezing my ass off waiting for it, before he picked me up and dropped me home. By then, I was starting to come off my coke high that I didn't really feel I had had. The drop on it can be harsh. In and out and it's done and that feeling of focus and sureness and feeling that you make sense in the world evaporates. Instead of sharp I was dull again, blank. That fucking emptiness knocking on my door to remind me it was coming home. So I was in a pretty shit mood when I walked through the door and slammed it shut, wanting one more line.

Chapter 17: Things changeSummary:Cindy comes home from Glenn's, only to find a furious Teddy waiting for her, lashing out violently at her.

Notes:Read the tags!

If you want to contact me, my information is in my profile. I'm always happy to say hi and chat, and if you're a bad man, maybe do even more.

Chapter Text"What the fuck, do you think you are doing getting home so late, you fucking shit?" Teddy screamed.

The yelling startled me. Not that it happened, just that I figured Teddy would be asleep. Getting greeted by him, with my hair a mess, late at night (or early in the morning) was low on the list of things I wanted to do. I jumped back, startled, and was instantly put in even a shittier mood.

"Jesus, what the fuck! Just chill the fuck down, Teddy!" This, in retrospect, was probably not the right thing to say, but I just was feeling like the shit I was and didn't want to deal with him right now. That said, I instantly regretted it. Teddy grabbed me by the neck and slammed me against the wall. I cried out as he punched the wall beside my face so hard he left a dent. He was trembling as he looked me in the face.

"Don't you ever fucking tell me what to do, you stupid fucking bitch," Teddy snarled as he choked me. It wasn't like the choke the rapist had given me. That had been a heavy, even pressure cutting off my air with his weight on me, making breathing even harder. This just straight-up hurt bad, and I was scared he'd hurt me.

"Going out all night! You've been fucking around, haven't you, you fucking whore?" he screamed as he slammed me against the wall again. My back and head bounced off it when he pulled me forward again.

"Where the fuck were you, you dumb fuck?"

By now, I was almost hysterical. My face was turning red, my windpipe felt crushed, and I was getting dizzy from both the choking and being hit against the wall. I clawed at his arm as I tried to say, "Glenn." He let go of my neck for a second, and I just doubled over, wheezing hard as I tried to say Glenn again and again.

"He give you his coke?" Teddy asked with venom in his voice.

I nodded weakly and just grunted when he grabbed me and threw me from the wall. I could barely walk, and I just stumbled and crashed hard on the coffee table. It busted as I fell on it, and I kept rolling. He was on me in a second, kicking me hard in the gut. I tried to get air through the pain as he flipped me on my back, grabbed my head, and just beat and slapped at it while he screamed at me.

"You're just a fucking stupid, worthless piece of shit, you goddamn whore, you know that! YOU KNOW THAT!"

I could only sob as my nose exploded in pain and blood. I felt my lip bust as he screamed, punched, and slapped me. The odd nasal drip had been replaced by copper as I thrashed violently, doing everything I could to get away. Suddenly, I felt a blow to my left ear, and with that, things were suddenly muffled. I just sobbed. My ear hurt so bad, and I tried to crawl away. I was easily dragged back by Teddy as he started tearing my clothes off me, and I didn't fight him. I was freaking out as everything sounded off while I was stripped easily by him. He looked furious, and he reached down and touched my wet cunt. I broke into mad sobs, so bad I could barely breathe.

Something just snapped in him then. I thought he'd been crazy before, but when he saw that I was wet, I was scared. No, fuck that. I was shitting my pants terrified in a way that I had only experienced once before. He slammed a fist straight into my tit, and I jerked in pain. He kept hitting me, my tits, my guts, and I was in so much pain I didn't realize when he stopped. I was just a mass of bruises as he grabbed my limp legs and folded me in half, knees almost by my head as he slammed his cock in me and just fucked me furiously. I took it. My cunt was wet, but I was too out of it to fuck him or try to pull away.

The cheap carpet was clawing at my back as he just grunted over me, sometimes hitting my side, my head, just lashing out at me again and again.

"This what you wanted, you sick fucking bitch?" he roared at me as he started choking me again, this time with both hands. I feebly slapped and grabbed at him, but there was no way I could begin to even budge him, and I was too weak to even try. My neck felt like it was being crushed as he rammed into my pussy again and again, his weight entirely on me and my neck. My eyes felt like they were bulging as he raped me on the floor. Or hate fucked. My thrashing was stopping fast, though. Blackness was creeping in, and none of my muscles were responding as I felt him tighten his grasp. My neck hurt so bad I wanted him to kill me right there to end the pain. Snot, blood, and tears streaked my face as I just went limp under Teddy as he crushed my body and neck, driving his cock in deep as he came. Not that I noticed as I was shaking violently, my body convulsing. I didn't even realize his hands were off my neck as he pulled off of me.

I just kicked myself away and struggled to breathe. I could barely hear out of my left ear, and as I tried to get air, all I could do was make a pitiful, high-pitched wheezing sound. My body convulsed as it fought for air, and I watched him with wild and wounded eyes as I shook. His back was to me, and he was shaking just as hard as I was. Long seconds turned to even longer minutes, and I finally started being able to breathe somewhat normally. Without the wheeze in my voice, I heard the sob in his breathing. I didn't know why or how, but I had hurt him. I couldn't understand or wrap my mind around it. I just knew it was my fault. I had fucked up again, I had caused everything. I reached painfully over to him, and he jerked away from me like I was fire. He shook so bad as he looked down at me.

"I wish I had fucking let you die," he said as he walked off.

I just lay there in pain, abandoned and alone, wishing the same thing.