ARIA’S POV
We fell into a routine - a type of relationship that proved to be stagnant. On mornings, he would come in, glance at me, and utter a greeting. I would only stare back, hate growing in the pores of my eyes every day I was in that house. I stopped struggling after a week, mostly because I couldn’t have the chains around my body anymore.
But I didn’t beg him to take them off. I would never beg him for anything again. Slowly, he started coming towards the bed, sitting on the edge, then moving closer and closer. He would tap my wrist, and my body would respond, a pressure building in my gut, a coiled serpent winding its way through my abdomen.
I hated that his touch still had that effect on me, but I didn't have a choice. My body seemed to understand the language he was speaking,
