"Pleaaaaase, stop!" She cried out to him. There was nothing much she could do at this point to save herself. He finally took her underwear and slid it down her legs, grabbed his manhood, and slid it right inside her vagina and she could now feel him inside.
"Pl-e-ea-se.....sto-op!" The words struggled to come out as the excruciating pain of him inside with no wetness between her legs was tremendous to what she had expected. She longed out for mercy from him.
Hitherto, red thick fluid oozed from Elena's sex to the bedsheets. Not too much, just enough. Enough to send an alarm to him. She got to her lungs yet again and screamed. "Pleeeaaaase stooop!" The pain was goddamn bad! Ethan stopped in his acts when he realized the sudden fluid that had enveloped his penis from beneath. He looked at her, silently. Mind drifted away. She was shaking, like leaves on a windy day. But that did not stop him. And so he continued even before she had enough time to catch her breath– in that musky husky environ.
He was now flesh to Elena's nakedness as he did what he knew best. His left hand had covered her mouth as she cried. The first, the second, the third...a series of ins and outs followed. Painful thrusts were followed by the other. She could feel his weight on top of her crush her with every passing second but the pain was nothing compared to what was coming from down under.
He broke her down, body and soul! With every passing second. With every passing cycle of pull and push. He cared nonetheless, of the crying, the fidgeting of her body beneath him as she struggled to escape his grasp, and the sound of her cries begging for mercy. He was hurting the woman he loved the most, at his unknown consent. The body demanded this, the mind provided the means. Sad as it may sound, he was absent in his own body. He got off her fifteen minutes later, seeming exhausted from the tedious activity. He didn't say a word as he walked to the bathroom.
Elena lay still on the bed, face-up, sobbing more than ever. She hated him. She hated the world for being so cruel to a good girl. She regretted ever accepting coming to the party. She regretted ever knowing him. She hated all the moments she had spent with him. All the sweet talk that he gave her, all the love he had accorded her, was just a pretense to lure her to his pants. She would have killed herself if she had found any means to.
Her left hand felt loose. She went on to untie herself with her teeth and she managed to her expectation. She headed over to the next hand too and managed to untie it. She hurriedly went for her left leg, struggled a bit and he found her untying it. She stopped immediately and didn't whimper a bit. He got over to her, naked, and turned her over. She lay on the bed across, chest down now, with the last leg still tied to the last leg of the bed. She didn't murmur, nor did she utter a single word. He got on top of her again. She didn't struggle this time and she felt him inside once more.
Her soul was dead. She was dead! She didn't care now what happened to her. His motion continued as his flesh slapped against hers. She offered no resistance. If was too much to ask, she'd wish that she was dead. Her head lay on the bed, eyes stared into the nothingness. They had stopped dancing. She could feel his pressure from behind as he got in and out, as he dug his hands in her skin and the pain continued. She felt numb like she wasn't a person anymore. Her wetness was coming about– not because she enjoyed it but as the body's arousal mechanism to prevent her vagina from feeling the earlier excruciating pain. He pulled out a while later. She didn't move and he thought that she wanted more. No means no. Yes, means yes. Neither of either did she imply, but she just lay there, motionless. She just didn't seem to care at all what was happening to her as of now. He then continued a minute later, tearing apart whatever was left of her. Her undying pain turned to nothing as the soulless body lay there zoned out because of fear. He played with her body like an alpha wolf dragging away the dead carcass that she was. She counted the seconds as they passed.
After what seemed like forever to Elena, she heard some sirens approaching from afar. Police sirens. Hope? Was that hope? Somehow police sirens were audible from here. Perhaps if she shouted… She got back from whatever hell she was from. So did Ethan. Not from Elena's hell but from the control of whatever was in charge. He looked around like a lost puppy trying to piece in what had been happening over the last one hour. He found himself staring at his manhood that was still inside her. He got off her, and off the bed. He looked confused, perplexed...yet confused. He looked around and his eyes landed on Elena who was lying on the bed. He wore his sweatpants. The sirens grew louder.
"Oh my God...! What have I done?"
"You will rot in hell, you devil!" Elena yelled at him. She got up and covered herself with some of the musky blood stained-bed sheets. He looked at her, mouth wide agape. He looked around and noticed the broken mirror on the floor next to the wall near the washroom. There was blood on it. He noticed some on the bedsheets as well. He gazed back at Elena with heavy breaths. She was still shaking, her crying tagging along. Her hair was messed up and her face showed imprints of two slaps. They were redder in that area. Her eyes had sunk, cause and effect being everything that had happened since the night took a quick turn in the room. But yet again, the sirens grew even louder. He looked at his slightly bled fist. Then back at Elena.
"Elena..." he muttered as he approached her, cautiously as if trying to explain himself. "No! No! No! What have I done...?"
"Get away from me!" She screamed, hoping that her voice would catch the incoming sirens that were getting closer and closer.
"Elena, look...I-I-I I'm sorry. Please...I'm sorry." He said tears meandering down his face. Guilt choked his insides, killing him from within.
"Get away from me! You monster!" Elena yelped again letting out a cry in the end. She moved back up the bed. The sirens were now right outside the house in the front yard. He put on his shirt, eyes still fixed to the damaged Elena. She hadn't stopped crying and from the looks, she wasn't about to do that sooner.
"Elena, I'm sorry," he told her, slid the glass windows, and head out to the balcony.
"Ethan Purcell, get out of the house with your hands in the air!" commanded an officer. It was the same traffic police Lance had encountered earlier in the day. "I repeat! Get out of the house! Now!"