I closed my eyes and pressed my back to the seat, allowing my body to rest for a moment. Despite my closed eyes, I could feel the warm tears threatening to fall, and I failed miserably in holding them back. The silent tears streamed down my face as Rhys hummed an unfamiliar song.

My hands rested on my thighs, and I could feel the drops of my tears landing on my hood. The ride, though not long, felt like it was dragging on for an eternity.

I lowered my head slightly when I sensed Rhys glancing at me. My grip on my jeans tightened when I felt his fingers brushing against my thighs. Slowly, he slid his hand up, placing it on my leg. I bit my lip, trying to suppress the cries threatening to escape. My trembling hand moved to the back of his hand, attempting to brush it away. However, without warning, he turned his palm upward, gripped mine tightly, and interlaced his fingers with mine, drawing me closer. I looked at him with desperate eyes, and my sobs grew louder, but he remained unchanged.

His gaze stayed on the road, but the song that had been playing kept changing repeatedly, the music flickering in and out, yet his hold on my hand never loosened.

As we neared my home, my feet trembled, desperate to run far away from him. But when I saw my house, my heart lit up with a fleeting sense of relief. He stopped the car, and I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt, turning my back to him as I started unlocking the door. But before I could open it, he grabbed my hair from behind and yanked it harshly, forcing me to turn my head with a painful shout.

He pressed his lips onto mine in a swift, demanding kiss that silenced me. His actions were rough, taking hard, aggressive sucks at my lips, biting them with force. I could do nothing but cry, the metallic taste of blood seeping into my mouth. After licking the blood from my lips, he pulled away, but his grip on my hair remained just as firm.

"Butterflies keep trying to run away from me, and I'll make sure those beautiful legs of yours won't take you anywhere again," he said, his voice dripping with a threatening tone. My breath became heavy, and I clutched his shirt desperately, trying to inhale some air.

He loosened his grip on my hair for a moment, then yanked it even more painfully, pressing his fist to my head. He pulled my face closer to his, his dark eyes locking onto mine.

"Breath in..."

"Breath out..."

I obeyed, sobbing and trembling, struggling to calm my breathing as he repeated the words. Slowly, my breaths evened out. His gaze, however, remained dark and overpowering, dominating my heart and soul.

"These eyes, filled with tears, will see no one but me. These trembling lips, still red and bloody from my marks, will touch no one but me. Your mind will obey me. Your heart will beat for me. Your breaths will be controlled by only me. Let any other man come close to you, Maya, and I'll remove your existence from this world,taking you in my world" he said coldly.

I closed my eyes and nodded in agreement, trembling under the weight of his words.

"Words, butterfly," he whispered, his breath brushing against my face.

"B...u.t y..ou ha..te m..e," I whispered, my voice shaky, my eyes still closed as I tried to hold back the flood of tears.

"Not anymore, Maya," he replied, taking a step back, creating a distance between us.

Shock coursed through me as I opened my eyes. I wanted to speak, to ask why, to know why he was doing this if he didn't hate me, but my lips trembled in fear, unable to form the words.

Before I could ask, he coldly commanded, "Get out."

I bit my lip, still aching from his kiss, and nodded in compliance. I opened the door and stepped out, walking toward my house without looking back.

I could feel his gaze following me, but I didn't dare meet those eyes again-the eyes that filled me with nothing but fear.

...

Once I stepped inside my house, I heard the sound of his car driving away, knowing that he had left. I walked toward my room, avoiding eye contact with my mom, who was busy talking on the phone with my aunt.

Entering my room, I closed the door behind me and sat on my bed, staring out the window at the blank sky.

Those moments with him kept flashing before my eyes-his touches burned every part of my body where he had touched me: my wrist, my palm, my chin, my waist, my shoulder, and my lips.

I stood up, walking to the bathroom. I turned on the shower, shedding my clothes and stepping under the cold water.

I rubbed my body, desperately trying to wash away the remnants of his touch, but it clung to me as if he had marked me in every way possible. My body felt as though it no longer belonged to me.

The cold water cascaded over me, but those lingering touches stayed, embedded in my skin. I cried, picking up the body wash and trying to scrub those places where his hands had been. I brushed my lips repeatedly, attempting to erase the burns left behind.

Eventually, the tears stopped. Defeated, I walked out of the bathroom, changed into fresh clothes, and headed downstairs.

My mom was still on the sofa, speaking with my aunt on the phone. I moved toward her and sat beside her, resting my head on her lap , I let my body relax.

My mom's hands softly brushed through my hair, and I closed my eyes, listening to her chatter about the funny conversation she was having some funny talks with my aunt.

She talked about the bad aunt who had taken something from her cart while shopping, and I found comfort in her words, even though they were trivial.

It felt peaceful, like home-away from everything. Away from him. Away from the fear.

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