Chapter 8 The Night That Crushed Her
726 Words
The sounds of the couple inside the room going at it were raw and frantic.
The man's ragged breathing mixed with the woman's throaty moans, drilling straight into Allison's skull.
She pressed her hands over her ears with everything she had, desperate to shut it all out.
Every single sound that leaked through the door dragged her straight back to those nightmare days at finishing school.
She remembered how they had forced her to use her hands, her mouth, all under the sick excuse of "proper training," just to please those disgusting men.
And now, of all people, it was Damian in there—the man she had once loved with her whole heart—f*****g her own sister.
"Damian, you're so f*****g good... God, you're incredible," came Bella's voice, breathy and teasing. "Tell me, baby—who's better? Me or Allison?"
"That worthless b***h could never hold a candle to you."
The noises grew louder, wilder. Tears flooded Allison's eyes until everything blurred, and then a sudden rush of blood burst from her mouth.
She screamed. She sobbed. The last fragile scrap of hope—that maybe, just maybe, Damian still cared for her—finally shattered into nothing inside the endless dark.
The moans and gasps went on all night long. Only when the first light of dawn crept in did Damian finally step out of the room. He looked down at Allison, slumped on the floor, and gave a cold laugh. "Allison, your sister's a hell of a lot better than you. She's clean. You're just... dirty. Now get in there and clean that room up."
Allison's body gave an involuntary shudder, but she clenched her teeth and stayed silent.
Used condoms littered the floor everywhere, proof of how savage the night had been.
Bella stood off to the side in nothing but a towel, watching Allison work with open amusement. Her eyes gleamed with pure mockery and satisfaction.
She let out a soft chuckle. "Damian, you're so mean. How could you make Allison do something like this? No matter what, she used to be your fiancée."
"Fiancée?" Damian smirked. "She chose to crawl in the gutter. This is exactly what she deserves. Don't worry—once the wedding's over, I'll throw her out on her ass the same day."
"But the wedding's still ages away," Bella whined, pressing herself against his chest like a spoiled kitten. The towel slipped just enough to show the dark trail of love bites covering her skin.
Damian glanced down at Allison on her knees and said flatly, "Fine. We'll get married next week."
Over the next few days, Damian and Bella threw themselves into wedding plans. To make Allison suffer even more, he ordered her to follow them everywhere they went.
When Bella tried on wedding gowns, the two of them didn't even bother closing the fitting-room door. They went at it right there in the store while Allison stood guard outside like a statue.
At the bachelor party the night before the big day, someone bumped into Damian while raising a toast and spilled wine across the floor. Without missing a beat, Damian snapped at Allison to get down on her knees and lick it clean. She did exactly as she was told.
No matter how low Damian dragged her, Allison's face stayed blank and empty, like a doll that had lost its soul.
Whatever he demanded, she obeyed without a word.
Inside her chest, only one thought kept her going: just survive these last few days. Get her mother's pendant. Then she could finally end the pain and slip away in peace.
She repeated it to herself like a mantra, over and over: hold on just a little longer. Just a little longer.
At last, the night before the wedding arrived.
The entire Schmidt Manor glowed with lights as servants rushed around preparing for tomorrow's ceremony. But Damian slipped away from it all and walked straight into Allison's room.
The first thing he did was rip her clothes off.
"No!" Allison's scream tore out, sharp and broken.
Days of nonstop torment had pushed her mind right to the edge of collapse.
She fought him with everything she had left, but his hands still moved over her body like slow, poisonous snakes.
"Please, Damian... just let me go," she begged, voice cracking. "I'm begging you."
- Writer
