One hundred reasons to leave

Chapter 2

We got out of the car. The cool air hit my face.

Morozov immediately grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me toward the house. I saw no point in resisting, so I obediently followed my tormentor.

There were all sorts of rumors about Morozov. For example, mental health issues, a tendency toward sadism and cruelty… This information both calmed me (since I had a rough idea of what to expect) and terrified me (since I knew what I was in for).

He pulled me into the room and slammed the door shut. He let go of my arm and sat in the armchair across from me. He spread his legs wide and loosened his tie. His gaze raked my figure in a lecherous way.

“Undress,” he said curtly.

“No,” I replied firmly. And who would know how much effort it took me to hide the tremor in my voice and body.

The man smirked unkindly.

“Didn’t your mother give you any instructions? Didn’t anyone warn you it’s better not to anger me? I’ll put it down to your inexperience and girlish foolishness. And now… un‑dress,” he said, enunciating each syllable.

I swallowed thick saliva.

“No,” I shook my head nervously and started backing away. The man jumped to his feet and was next to me in two strides. A knife glinted in his hand.

My heart skipped a beat. Adrenaline was off the charts. It felt like something heavy was crushing my chest. I froze. Morozov smirked and slowly moved behind me. He ran the blade from my cheekbone down to my neck, then pulled his hand back and with a jerk cut through the corset, grazing my skin with the knife.

I cried out and flinched, but the man immediately grabbed me by the hair from behind, ruining my hairstyle.

“Let go,” I hissed.

“Can’t — you’re my wife,” he said mockingly, pulling the dress off me.

When I stood before him in my underwear, he slapped my bottom and pushed me toward the bed.

I was breathing deeply and raggedly. Tears were choking me, but I stayed silent. He wouldn’t leave me alone. Was there even any point in resisting?

By the bed, he turned me to face him and pushed again. I fell onto the soft mattress on my back and immediately started crawling toward the wall. I completely forgot about the nagging pain and the cut.

The man began to undress as he looked at me. I met his gaze defiantly, though not without fear.

He was unstable, dangerous.

When he was down to just his underwear, he grabbed my ankle and yanked me toward him.

I immediately started struggling and landed a kick with my heel right on his nose. He immediately grabbed it and groaned in pain.

“b***h…” he snarled and looked at me *that way*, as if he was about to kill me.

I immediately started crawling to the edge of the bed, but before I could jump off, he grabbed me by the hair and yanked me back into place. His hands closed around my neck again. Then he punched me in the face. Intense pain washed over my eyebrow and eye area.

He kept choking me while stripping off the last of my clothes.

After that, I felt a sharp pain in my lower abdomen again. Consciousness was slipping away, and I simply couldn’t open my eyes. Tears were streaming down, and an inner voice said, “You knew it would be like this.”

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I woke up to terrible pain all over my body, especially a stinging sensation between my shoulder blades and in my lower abdomen. I slowly pushed myself up on my elbows and looked around. The room looked like it had been through a nuclear war. The bed was covered in blood. On the nightstand were painkillers and a bottle of water.

“You monster! Go to hell! I won’t numb the pain you caused me — not for a second will I forget what a monster you are!” I shouted, sweeping everything off the nightstand, and buried my face in the pillow. Good thing I was drunk yesterday. It would’ve hurt more sober. And anyway, everything that happened yesterday seems like just a terrible dream today. Though the injuries on my body are very real…

The door burst open with a crash. I didn’t even lift my head — I felt with my gut that it was *him*.

“Get up! Breakfast is on the table. I’m leaving for a couple of hours. Be ready by the time I get back — important people are coming to congratulate us on the start of our married life,” the man said sarcastically. “And by ‘ready,’ I mean everything: dress, hairstyle, makeup — mandatory. Cover up the bruises, all of them!” he growled the last part and left the room.

But I won’t cover up the bruises! Let him get even angrier. I’ll push him to the point of killing me for sure today.

I didn’t go down for breakfast. I decided to spend that time in the shower. I washed off the dried and fresh blood. My head was spinning. Scarlet liquid dripped onto the floor. I got out of the shower and looked at myself in the mirror. My eye was purple. The corner of my lower lip was split. My entire neck and collarbones were blue. There were large bruises on my waist and hips.

With a shudder, I turned my back to the mirror and saw a deep, bleeding cut in the reflection. I immediately turned away and covered my mouth with my hand. Tears streamed down my cheeks on their own. With trembling hands, I took the first‑aid kit off the shelf and carefully started taping the wound.

An hour later, the bleeding had stopped. And I finally breathed out. I went to get ready for the meeting.

I pulled my hair into a high bun and put on a silky, open dress with thin straps.

At this point, I didn’t care what would happen. My sense of self‑preservation had left me back when I said “no” to the registrar.

The guests had already arrived, and Morozov ordered me to come downstairs.

But for some reason, I decided to take a look in his office. Since he was greeting the guests, I might find something useful. Maybe it would help me get out of here.

I quietly closed the door behind me and ran to the desk. I started looking through the papers. Then I opened the drawers one by one. In the last one, I found a pack of some kind of weed and white powder in a baggie. The puzzle pieces immediately fell into place in my head. So that’s why his eyes are so black… At the reception, I’d heard something about an old house and the goods stored there.

A rustle sounded in the corridor, and I immediately put everything back and bolted out of the office.

At the stairs, I stopped and looked down. Three large men were looking around and shaking hands with Morozov.

“We didn’t come here on business,” one of them said, clapping my husband on the shoulder. “You better tell us how married life is going? How was the wedding night?” asked a young, blue‑eyed brunette.

“Great! I think we can expect heirs soon,” my husband said just as I reached the last steps of the stairs.

“God forbid,” slipped out of my mouth.

The brunette looked out from behind my husband’s back and stared at me. He examined me, and with every second his gaze grew darker and darker, and his expression turned angrier.

Morozov didn’t miss his dear guest’s close attention and turned to look at me.

My husband’s face immediately changed. I’d never seen him like this. Deep down, I immediately realized what I’d done. He wouldn’t pat me on the head for this. He’d definitely finish me off as soon as the guests left.

“She’s so beautiful — can’t take my eyes off her,” the brunette said. “Who did this to you, birdie?” he asked seriously, as if he could solve my problem.

“I fell,” I said clearly, looking straight into his eyes.

“Like her?” my husband suddenly asked. “Agreed, she’s beautiful. By the way, I’m not greedy. Roman Vitalyevich, would you like to try my wife? She’s pure, barely touched…” What was he saying?! Was he going to hand me over like a w***e to the first stranger?

I recoiled, clutching the railing.

“Tempting offer,” the brunette replied, raking me up and down with an appraising look. “I think I’ll take you up on that — she’s a real kitty, hard to

My heart is pounding madly with fear. I hadn’t been with anyone before last night! I simply can’t endure this! And how dare they decide for me at all? I’m a living person, not some hole for their pleasure!

“No!” I reply loudly, looking at the brunette with a mix of anger and fear.

“Shut up, you b***h!” my husband growls through clenched teeth. “You’ll do as he says — and just try not to obey…” He warns me and pushes me up the stairs. I stumble and start to fall, but strong male hands immediately catch me.

“I’ve got her.”

I’m shaking uncontrollably. My lips are trembling, and tears are welling up in my eyes. I realize I won’t be able to get away. This kind of life is worse than death.

On legs that feel like they won’t hold me, I make my way into the room, and he follows. He closes the door behind him, and I flinch, starting to shake even more violently. There’s a lump in my throat. I’m starting to feel nauseous with fear.

What will he do to me?