As I feel Drake’s breathing calming, he pulls his head up to look into my eyes again, and all I can think about are the words that stuck to me when I was thirteen.“Just remember one thing for me, Evelyn. No matter what I do, I am not a monster.”
He lied. Of course he’s a monster. I may have known this day would come, but he never gave me a chance to be ready for it. He just took it instead.
He swipes my hair back gently with this fingers and gazes longingly inside my eyes. “Who do you belong to?” When I don’t answer straight away, he tugs at my hair, making me yelp. “Who do you belong to?”
“You,” I answer with a quivering voice. “You, Drake.”
He smiles at my answer, but then, as quickly as it comes, it vanishes. “It’s going to take a while for me to get over your betrayal tonight. I’m not going to trust you for a while. I’m going to need to keep a very close eye on you. Do you hear me?” He tugs at my hair again, so I obediently nod my head. “Good. Now, isn’t there something you want to say to me?”
I know exactly what he wants to hear, so I robotically reply, “I’m so sorry. I promise not to do it again.”
Having gotten what he’s after, Drake nods his head and lifts his weight off of me. He slowly pulls his cock out of me, making me wince as he does. “Sorry,” he offers. “You will be sore for a little while, but it will pass. The next time will be much better. I promise.”
Slight fear from knowing this creeps up my spine. But also mixed with it is a sick, twisted expectation of the next time. I don’t want him anywhere near me after that, but he also seems to command that I do.
Staring down, a big smile lights up his face as he strokes his finger along his shaft. I can see the traces of blood all over him as he pulls his finger up for me to see. “Look at this. This is what I’ve been dreaming of. You’re all mine now, Evelyn.”
My name dances on the tip of his tongue as he places his finger inside of his mouth and tastes my blood. “Hmm,” he moans, closing his eyes. “The taste of your innocence is the sweetest fucking taste on earth.” He crawls towards me, and I try to crawl back, but I have nowhere to go. “Do you know how much it turns me on to know that your pure blood is coating my dick? Best. Fucking. Feeling. Ever.” He grabs my hair again, pulling my head back. As soon as he’s done this, his tongue is forcing its way into my mouth. Once he breaks free, he stares at me again with those hooded eyes. I don’t want them to turn me on, but they force their way through me.
“You’re mine now—all mine.” Without warning, he enters me again, and my mind is awash with so many feelings and emotions. Desire, hatred, longing, anger, bliss, pain, yearning, and rage. I don’t want them to come, but they do.
I try shutting down—pushing my emotions to one side, so I don’t have to feel anything anymore. I try singing a song in my head. Sentence by sentence, verse by verse, I sing it over and over again until my head hurts.
Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday …
Age Seventeen – Present Day
At the age of nine, I learnt to ride a bike. I was a little unsteady at first, but being the stubborn fool that I am, I persevered for seven hours straight until I perfected it.
At the age of ten, I was given my first pair of dancing shoes, and I spent many an hour twirling in front of my bedroom window.
At the age of eleven, I received my first kiss from my very first crush, Peter. For a while, we were encased in a world of laughter, innocent play, and stolen kisses.
At the age of twelve, I met Drake Salvatore, owner of an empire and one of the most powerful men on earth. He scared the shit out of me, but at the same time, his presence made me feel safer than my mum and dad ever did.
At the age of thirteen, the roof I lived under was plagued by arguments and the constant rejection of my parents. Drake was always there to save me, though. My life was more bearable with him in it.
At the age of fourteen, my parents almost became bankrupt.
Drake Salvatore saved the day. I was sold to him—to become his on the day of my eighteenth birthday.
At the age of fifteen, I became a priceless trophy. Something to dress up and admire, but never to touch.
At the age of sixteen, Drake’s obsession with me became the source of my obsession with him.
At the age of seventeen, I became defiant. I met a few boys and proceeded to risk those precious stolen kisses I once shared with Peter. Those encounters never lasted long. I imagine Drake must have found out about them because the boys inevitably and “inexplicably” lost interest, and I never saw them again.