#whumpin

     To Elora’s both surprise and confusion, the man was being unusually tender with her. His grip was gentle, fingers not pressing bruises into her skin like usual, and he was mindful, careful, even, not to agitate any of her injuries, positioning her so that nothing would jab too hard at a bruised rib, no old scabs would peel away from her back. She was cautiously accepting of this, silently appreciating the lack of pain, as much as she hated accepting anything from him. There wasn’t a choice, was there? An explanation for the gentleness was nonexistent to her, but she didn’t attempt to ponder one, allowing herself to accept it while it lasted.

     She accepted it without another thought until the man exited the bathroom with her and turned left down a short hallway she’d only seen in flashes instead of going straight toward the living room and kitchen like usual. Her eyes shone with confusion at first, but her expression quickly dissolved into horror when the man continued down the hallway and she saw that the door he opened at the end of it led to a bedroom. Her whole body instantly froze. She felt like ice settled into her veins, chilling her entire body as she stiffened, staring at the room with wide eyes, her mind screaming for her to get away. Her throat suddenly felt dry, and she couldn’t find any words to say, her mind racing so quickly she could hardly gather a single thought. The man could feel her stiffen in his arms, and he smiled to himself, though he said nothing to her; he suspected he knew exactly what was running through her mind and relished in her falsified panic. He entered the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

     The room was rather simple. The floors were covered in old, yellowing carpet. In one corner, there was a bed with a gray comforter balled up at the foot, and in another, a disorganized desk covered in files, papers, and random knickknacks, with an old-looking desktop in the middle of the mess. The chair belonging to the desk was tucked in, but looked like it would fall apart at any moment. The doors to a closet and a master bathroom sat along an otherwise empty wall adjacent to the bed and desk, and a few unpacked moving boxes with years worth of dust set into the cardboard rested underneath the light switch by the door.

     Elora was still frozen in fear, unable to move, unable to do anything but let her thoughts race, allow them to spill into her mind, clouding it with horrific images, thoughts that she would rather die than have become real. The man, seeming to outwardly ignore her obvious fear, swiftly walked across the room and set her down on the bed. Unwillingly, she whimpered, breaths coming quick and shallow. 

     When she spoke, it wasn’t out of nerve; it was out of pure inability to stop herself, her primal terror taking over, not letting her sit idly anymore.

     “Please,” she begged.

     It was one word. One word she spoke while looking up at the man with glassy eyes, her throat and chest too tight to say any more. She saw him shift his attention down to her, saw him reach down and grab her chin softly through vision blurred with tears. His lips were curled into a smile.

     He scoffed at her and rolled his eyes like her fears were as trivial as a child’s fear of the dark. “Calm down, lark. I’m not an animal.”

     Elora held her breath. He knows. He knows I’m scared. I’m not supposed to be. I’m supposed to accept everything he chooses. The man let her chin go and it dropped to her chest, her eyes downcast. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the lights flipped off. The darkness was welcome, calming, almost, until she felt the man crawl onto the bed next to her, and for a moment, she didn’t breathe, didn’t move, didn’t even think. And then he was pulling her down next to him, her shoulder bumping into the worn mattress, and an arm snaked around her waist, pressing her tightly against him, and a leg draped over hers, and the comforter pulled over them, and she couldn’t move, and she couldn’t breathe, it was too much-

     His face nuzzled into her neck. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you right now.”

     She gasped, only because she had to breathe. Her gasp quickly gave way to a sob, a broken cry that left tears spilling out of the corners of her eyes. This only caused the man to tighten his grip, earning even more of Elora’s tears. She was stiff as a board, all of her joints locked up, frozen in fear, as if remaining still would get her away.

    He repressed a chuckle at her distress and shushed her. “You should be grateful. You haven’t slept in a bed in months, and finally I let you. But now you’re acting like this? Maybe I should just toss you back in the bathroom. Do you want that?”

     Please. Please. Please fucking put me back.

                       You can’t say that. It’ll only make him angry.

      She took a deep breath and shook her head.

     “Then relax.” His tone was as sharp as a blade.

     She forced her stiff muscles to loosen, made her body relax like she was actually enjoying the affection.

    “There’s a good girl,” he praised. “Sleep well.” A thumb slid over her cheek, wiping away tears that were quickly replaced. The man then went silent, and eventually, Elora heard hushed snores.

     She didn’t sleep at all that night, too absorbed in her terror to allow herself to fall into such a vulnerable state. It was eerily quiet as she laid completely still, limp as the man had instructed, relaxed, doing her best to not even breathe too loudly for fear of waking him. It was better when he was asleep. He couldn’t hurt her, then. She stared at the ceiling the whole night, her eyes blank, empty, though her mind never wandered off to anything other than the limbs around her that made her feel like she was suffocating.