Chapter 3 - BREATHLESS

VERA'S P.O.V

Hunter's palm struck my cheek, forcing my head to snap to the side.

For a split second, there was nothing. A ringing white noise flooded my ears. Then the sting came hot.

"What do you want from me?" My boyfriend questioned.

He was drunk again. I knew that the second he came into the room.

"Hunter," I whispered, my voice inaudible.

"I'm here now. What do you want from me?" He repeated.

My mind scrambled. My thoughts tripped over each other. What answer did I have to that?

I had many answers. I wanted many things from Hunter.

𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡, 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑡.

But I knew better than to say any of that.

"Nothing," I cried instead, too afraid to confront him.

The look in his dark brown eyes changed, not anger exactly, but something much worse.

Hunter lunged towards me; his fingers closed around my throat before I could even gasp.

He drove me into the wall, claiming every inch of space around me. The impact rattled through my bones.

He leaned in, his eyes met mine, and they showed no mercy.

This was the first version of Hunter. The drunk one. The one that scared me. The one I had to deal with now, because if I didn't, there would be consequences. Consequences I could not physically handle.

Air slipped away from me completely, and my face flooded with heat until I knew it must be crimson.

My eyes filled and then overflowed as fresh tears slid shamelessly down my cheeks.

Then everything started to fade.

My mouth opened on instinct as I searched for a word—a plea. Anything to voice out, but nothing came. Just a raspy gasp caught in my throat.

I was too breathless to speak, too overwhelmed to move.

"Just a little more," Hunter growled lowly.

My eyes fluttered, fighting to close — but I didn't let them.

Hunter loomed over me, reminding me how small I could be. How little he could always make me feel.

One hand remained on my throat. While the other moved to unbuckle his belt, throwing it behind him.

He revealed his cock. Hard, thick and throbbing.

I watched through half-lidded eyes as he traced it firmly with his free hand, his motion controlled. Every line and vein was amplified in my vision, impossible for me to ignore.

His hand ran over it as he continued to pleasure himself, stroking and twisting aggressively to his liking.

He beat it harder. His eyes locked on me, filled with fury.

His fingers dug further into my windpipe. My eyes pleaded, but his grip only tightened more.

A heavy weakness spread through me, and everything felt far away. Hunter, the room, even my own body. I was barely hanging on.

If I gave up now, only God knew what would happen. I wondered if Hunter would stop if he saw I was passed out, if he saw his Baby girl was really, truly hurt.

I knew one thing. I knew this was the last night Hunter would ever treat me this way. I couldn't give up now.

𝐼𝑓 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤, 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦. 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑟𝑒; 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜...

But my eyes gave up already, rolling to the back of my head.

𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑛𝑜. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠. 𝑀𝑦 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑒𝑡, 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡...

Luck was on my side. That involuntary act seemed to do it for Hunter. Watching my eyes roll back threw his body into an immediate fit. It triggered him. He reached climax immediately.

A jagged groan ripped from his throat. His head snapped backwards, and his entire body tensed violently.

Streams of thick fluid spurted from the tip of his cock, dripping onto my thick thighs, left bare.

His hand shook against my neck, as it did, his grip loosened, and air gradually returned to my system. I drew it in, desperate for it.

I forced my eyes open, then slid down the wall as Hunter lost his grip. My limbs were unable to support me, leaving me drowning in the pool of my unconsciousness.

The air I longed for moments ago slowly began to suffocate me. Every nerve in my body screamed with the intensity of it.

Hunter moaned, "Fuck."

He bit down hard on his lip. He staggered forward. His hands reached out to grip the wall, holding on for a moment before staggering towards the bed, falling freely onto it.

I remained in the corner of the room, exactly where he left me, afraid that even the slightest shift would draw his attention back to me.

My face streamed with tears, and my hands clasped gingerly around my neck.

I whimpered, crying with each touch. Every brush of my fingers sent a fresh wave of panic through my body.

𝐼𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡𝑠, 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑒𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠.

"Vera," he called my name, his voice softening suddenly, just like before.

This was the second version of Hunter. The one that I'd wake up to the next day. The one that would swear he didn't mean it, or claimed to have forgotten, making everything worse.

"I need you to be quiet."

But I couldn't; his words didn't soothe me. I couldn't calm myself, not after everything… I just couldn't.

My chest heaved as he spoke.

"You know what happens when you don't listen. You know what happens when you cry."

I knew.

And I still didn't stop.

"You're asking for something you won't like."

His harsh words were followed by a low, humourless laugh rumbling from the depths of his throat.

I heard the bed creak as he got up. I heard him walk towards me. His footsteps were light and quick.

"Get up."

I should have listened. I should have stopped crying. I should have done what he said.

I feared for my life once more.