THE CONTROL: An Arranged Marriage Romance by Elena Monroe (ebook reader android .txt) 📕

Oh right, her stepbrother raped her for years when I paid for her virginity. And how did I intend on fixing our wounds? Violent sex wrapped in morning guilt. 

Once the heaving stopped, I stood up trying to regain my balance and recover at the same time. It was posing to be a problem when I moved to the sink. Palming a handful of water, I drank it down before my eyes caught my reflection.

I had bruises, hickies, scratch marks, and dried blood on the corner of my lip.

The guilt weighed down on my shoulders more seeing the marks. We loved marking each other, but this was something different, not our usual love bites. Scrubbing my face with my wet hand, I tried to get it together, but our sex was only a distraction from the truth.

Elias hurt Eve in ways my mind couldn’t comprehend, and all my hands itched to do was be around his neck. I couldn’t just give into the desire without a plan. Until then, I had to drown out the memory with the one thing Eve made sure to destroy: alcohol. 

Turning back into my room, I stopped to watch Eve twist against the blankets, her entire body on display and the covers simply tangled between her legs while draping over her breasts. She was beautiful and equally covered in marks. I winced seeing the bruises peppering her hip when I convinced myself maybe I was too broken for her.

Maybe we were only bound to hurt more together. 

Maybe slaying each other’s demons only makes ten more spawn in their place. 

She stirred, light moans leaving her lips as her hand reached for me when I wasn’t beside her. The action yanked at my heartstrings, but I knew I couldn’t be anything but callous until Elias was taken care of. Leaning down into her, I placed a single kiss on her cheek and whispered, “I’ll be back. Sleep.”

Sneaking into my closet, I got dressed quickly. It wasn't really hard when everything in my wardrobe was similar to the shit right next to it. All button downs and simple shirts, skinny black jeans and plaid pants, boots lining the floor. All dark colors.

Buttoning only three buttons, I just needed it to cover any and all scars for my trip to pick up more alcohol after my considerate wife was trying to make our home a dry one.

Jogging down the stairs, I pushed my arms through my double breasted peacoat and realized I was leaving Eve alone. I didn’t know if she would panic or even remember hearing me whisper in her ear, and that was creating a soreness where the bruises weren’t left behind.

Stopping myself, I found paper and a marker to write her a note and left it on the kitchen counter where she would be sure to find the white tented piece of paper.

Closing the door behind me, I made sure to jiggle the handle to confirm it was locked before I headed for my car. As soon as I sat down behind the wheel, my phone in my lap went off, buzzing against my thigh. Smiling to myself, I expected it to be from Eve. She would be the one person in the world to sense my disappearance.

The buzzing was simply a notification on my calendar.

 Reminder: 7 days till the anniversary of Braeden’s death. Keep it together, asshole...

EVE

I woke up alone with the blankets I normally selfishly stole clinging to my skin like a thread instead of coddling me the way Bowen didn’t subscribe to.

Patting the bed next to me, I was searching for Bowen when I came up empty and cold. The space next to me wasn’t even warm anymore which meant he had been absent for longer than my body realized.

When I sat up, I felt the soreness hit me like a mac truck when I examined the bruises around my joints: ankles, wrists, hips, and probably others in places I couldn’t see from this vantage point.   Last night I broke the news to Bowen that we did match after my brain had buried the trauma somewhere I couldn’t even find it because Denmark was hard enough to survive on its own.

I broke the news and he had to control himself from breaking everything around him, me included.

Now I was a prime example of how thin the lines between restraint and neglect are. Both of us neglected our trauma, and now restraint was pretty much unattainable.

Reaching for my robe, I felt the brutal agony of what we did last night between my legs. I was barely used to Bowen before he turned into a weapon assaulting purity.

Tying it tightly, I grabbed my phone and read the time, it was later than normal. I chalked up his absence to going to work despite telling the guys he wouldn’t be in for an undisclosed amount of time. I couldn’t even see him taking a sick day or even missing work because of his beloved avoidance in the shape of a forty ounce.

 Wandering downstairs, I took the long way around the kitchen with a stupidly permanent smile lighting up my features. It was stupid to want to match something so ugly, yet I wanted nothing more than to be his equal even in pain.

My stomach clenched and I felt an unfamiliar feeling that felt like torture when I brought my hand to my stomach to soothe it.

Hunger.

I was hungry for the first time in years. I was starved and finally giving in.

There is something freeing about speaking your demons out loud.

In religion, when someone is demonically possessed, the demon will hide its name in an attempt to kill time, digging its claws deeper. The priest will collect clues until they find the name of