STOIC

ONE

**Trigger warning, noncon**

EMMERSON

Laughter, wine, food, and cheerfulness. Everybody here was happy, celebrating, completely unaware of my pain and misery. The warm summer breeze entered the house, swishing through the front door, cooling the room we occupied. This should have been a beautiful evening. The clear skies showed millions of blinking stars, and the moon shone on us like the queen she was, but I wasn’t enjoying any of this. Jokes were being told, and memories from our childhood were being brought back to life. The stories that they all loved to listen to over and over again were being retold. I heard my name being called, and I saw their fingers point at me. I knew there had been questions asked, but I couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes—I couldn’t speak.

Everyone was celebrating that my older brother Kenzo and his childhood friend, Stoic, had returned home safely after a nearly five-year-long deployment to the northern border. Glasses were being raised high, and the thundering sound of “cheers” invaded my mind.

My whole family was there. His whole family was there. He was there.

I had my sight solidly frozen to the floor, my nails digging into my arms and my knees trembling under the table. It took all my strength just to try and hide the pain and the discomfort between my legs from what had happened just a few hours before. I readjusted myself on the chair and felt a stabbing pain run across my core, my back, and my legs. My hand immediately grabbed my lower abdomen, as I hissed in pain. From across the table, I heard a low grunt, and then I heard him adjust his chair and lean further forward on the table. I could see him out of the corner of my eyes. He had his elbows on the table and hadn’t for a second taken his gaze from me. I bet he was enjoying the sight, knowing that he had broken my body beyond repair, that there was nothing left of me but debris of my past self.

As dinner continued, laughter boomed and bounced off the thick wooden walls of my childhood home. I hadn’t taken a single bite. I had been moving my food around the plate but never ate any. How could I? I could only feel disgusted. In my mind, his rough hands were still running over my body, his breath on my neck. No, I refused to think about it. I fixed my gaze on the floor and avoided closing my eyes for fear of seeing his face, like a nightmare that followed me and wouldn’t let me go until I was shredded into a thousand pieces.

“Emmy, pass the vegetables.” I heard my brother Ethan say, waking me up from my daze.

Picking up the bowl, I stretched my arm in front of me and waited for Ethan to grab it, when my eyes met Stoic’s for a few short seconds. Great mistake. There he was, sitting right across the table, jaw clenched, brows frowned, squeezing a fork between his calloused hands, with pure anger in his eyes. Blue eyes silently demanded me to keep looking back at him, daring me, but I declined. I couldn’t. As soon as Ethan took the bowl, my eyes dropped, and I felt the weight of his gaze all over me again. Like an overpowering darkness that slowly pulled the light out of my body.

I would rather be anywhere but here, hell included. The cold and darkness of Niflheim would be an escape from the burning flames of Stoic’s deep blue devilish eyes. I would rather dine across from Hel herself than sit across from “The Dokken” for another minute.

Pulling my long sleeve up a little, I stared at my bruised wrist under the table. Rapid images of his monstrously big hands holding my wrist against the damp sand flashed through my mind. His heavy and wet body crushing me with his weight, holding me in place. His chest rocking back and forward over mine as he thrust hard inside me. The slapping sound of our skin as our bodies forcefully met. His thick rod mercilessly ripping my insides. The pain. The way he licked and bit my n*****s and groped my breasts. His blue eyes staring down at me as his face became distorted with lust, his mouth hanging open. The animalistic grunts that escaped him as he used my smaller body for his own pleasure. The last hard thrust he gave before stillness took over his body and I felt him shudder, pouring his release inside me. The excruciating pain in my entrance, and the feeling of my blood and his seed running down my thighs as he pulled his softening member from me. His heavy breathing. The smell of it all. No, I had to avoid him. Once, I trusted in him. I always had. He was supposed to be like a brother, my friend, and not the perpetrator of my demise. I was reduced to nothing but a lifeless, empty shell.

I felt my right elbow being shaken, and my eyes landed on my mom. She had what seemed to be tears of joy in her eyes and a sweet smile on her face. She slowly pointed to the farthest right side of the table, where my father stood with a cup of wine in his hands.

“Emmerson, dear, did you hear what I just said?” my father wondered with his eyes full of love. He was a kind man, always caring for his family, always doing the right thing.

“What?” I asked, completely lost.

“As you have known your whole life, your hand in marriage has already been promised, and your mother and I couldn’t be happier. After all these years, we have finally decided to tell you who your fiancé is. As we have always told you, your fiancé is an extraordinarily respected man, and no one is more worthy in my eyes of the great honor of becoming your husband. There’s no one I’d be happier to call my son.”

Why now?

I knew what that meant. At least I would be taken away from here and far away from Stoic. They said they would tell me who my fiancé was a month before the wedding. I immediately felt embarrassed. My husband would think I didn’t wait for him.

How could I tell him that Stoic had stolen everything from me? Would he believe me?

My father coughed to get my attention back.

“With that said…” he extended his arm toward Stoic. “We are glad to announce that these two families will soon be officially united. Stoic, my son, the day has finally come when you can claim your wife, and in a month’s time, you two will be jo…”

Silence…

I didn’t hear anything else that was being said.

Those words felt like an ice-cold bucket of liquid s**t had just hit my face. I was frozen in place, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think. Somebody had taken the ground from below my feet, and I felt like I was falling into a dark void. Reality came crashing down on me like the thunderous sound of that dreadful waterfall. I was promised to Stoic.

Mother. f*****g. Stoic.

Seconds must have passed by when I felt my mother excitedly shaking my arm. I heard cheers from my brothers, his parents, and our grandparents. I heard their voices, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Why were they celebrating this?

I couldn’t fathom what had just happened, and tears started rolling down my face. I couldn’t control them. I heard a round of “aws” coming from all parts of the room.

Fucking idiots, all of them.

They believed I was speechless out of surprise and happiness, but nothing was further from my horrible truth. I was terrified, holding on to my chair as if my life depended on it.

Stoic stood and started walking over to me. I could hear the hard sound of his heavy steps getting closer every second. As soon as he was close enough, he got on one knee and took my shaking hand in his, slowly putting a ring on my finger. When he let my hand go, it fell by my side, hanging lifelessly. I still refused to look at his eyes.

He stood and got so close to me that I could feel the heat coming from his big body. He leaned closer to my ear. His lips were so close that I could almost feel them move. With a deep but low voice that only I could hear, he said, “You are mine,” sending chills down my spine. He tucked my hair behind my ear and left me there, drowning in my own tears. Soon, the space that his body occupied was filled with our family, all rushing to congratulate me.

All I could think was, how did all this come to be? Why was my family so brainwashed by him?

I only had one month.

How the f**k would I escape the devil?