Chapter 1
Chapter 1
*Warning, s****l assault within this chapter*
(Liberty's POV)
The tears and sweat blended together. I couldn't tell which one the salty taste within my mouth was from anymore. My mind spiraled, as I prayed this was nothing more than a nightmare.
I was covered in my own blood, my treacherous screams turned into nothing but weak, raspy, cries for help. No one was coming. I was alone, helpless.
The gravel beneath me dug into my arms, stomach and knees. The blood pooling beneath my body was unbelievable. How could I survive this moment? How could no one but this evil man hear my pleas for help?
He gripped onto my hips tighter, causing the silver pocket knife in his hand to dig into my hip. Blood poured from the scrapes on my body, the broken nose and split lip upon my face, the three knife wounds on my hips, and from my insides. His violation was my first, the first real interaction I have had with the opposite s*x.
I was pathetic for not defending myself, for not fighting him off. Death would have been less painful than this.
I knew it was late. I didn't get off my shift at the diner until two in the morning and already this assault felt longer than my entire nineteen years of life. Father thought it would build my work ethics if I had a job below my status. Still, how was it no one heard me, no one helped me? Did others want to protect themselves enough to ignore the pleas of a women who was being beaten and forced into relations she never asked for? Was I too provocative? Did I encourage this in some way? How did he get the better of me? Father would be so ashamed of me.
His face was engraved in my mind, not that I thought I would live past this moment to breathe a word. Would I even have the courage to try? Most likely not. A bushy, red beard that covered those hideous lips. The ones that couldn't stop speaking in such a vulgar way, what did I really expect though? Those sinister, dark, green eyes that will haunt me every night and day. If I make it out of this, that is.
Who am I kidding? Why would I want to even live after he's finished with me? Who would want me? When I didn't even want myself anymore?
More tears flowed down my face, mixing with my blood and the three hundred pound rapist above me. I prayed if he ever did this again, someone would help the next women.
I closed my eyes, breathing out a breath I could barely afford. His weight was breaking my ribs, as my chest constricted to try to take in as much air as possible, not even enough to satisfy one lung. I felt the crack I had been waiting for, feeling another rib dig into my insides.
I was giving up, allowing darkness to take over. I wouldn't allow myself to hold out for the inevitable anymore. I knew this was the end. I only hoped I could go fast. The tearing noise told me he had ripped me again, the pain radiated through my core and not in a pleasurable way.
Please God, take me away from here. Was there even a God? Why would I suffer this way if there was?
I was snapped out of the horrible nightmare, the one that occurred two years ago today. The operations for me to heal have finally come to an end. Today was the last day. Mentally though, I haven't even looked at a man, I carry pepper spray and a hand gun everywhere and I never even wanted to leave my apartment. I quit the diner, got a job at home to still prove my work ethic to my father, and only left the house for my appointments. My father or mother always tagged along, they had the finest doctors working on me. Perks of my father being a billionaire and me being his princess, I guess.
"God damn it." Father gritted out between his teeth, as his fist slammed against the wall. I jumped slightly, not prepared for the noise. Flashbacks wanted to bring me back into my mind, but I fought hard to keep them at bay. What was wrong with father?
"What is it?" I whispered. I barely talk nowadays. None of them heard more than a whisper from me. To think I am supposed to become CEO of my father's companies and take over soon. Maybe it would be best that he passed it down to my little brother instead. Would he be able to hold off that long? He still seemed young and productive, but I knew he was exhausted.
My father's eyes snapped at mine, the worry and anger bubbling underneath the surface of his skin. His eyes blazed with fury, but I knew it wasn't directed towards me. He was strict, until that man took my soul away.
"They haven't found him." Father grumbled, all emotions now hidden as he looked away from me. He felt guilty, I knew. I could always read others in ways no one understood. Father hired a whole team of private detectives, promising to bring the man who haunted me every second, to justice. I doubted he would find him. The police gave up after just two months. He had nothing to be guilty of, it wasn't his fault.
"Let it be father. There is no need to worry ourselves any longer." I told him reassuringly, my dull, emotionless tone never changing.
"Her facial reconstruction was a success." The doctor spoke as he walked through the door, not feeling the tension within the room at all. Some people were just clueless. I waited patiently for the doctor to remove the bandages, as my father tapped his foot impatiently. "What do we think?"
"She's flawless, thank you doctor." Father said with a genuine smile on his face. Flawless, father always said I had his nose, just always slightly too big for my face. I had no eyelashes and my eyes were just slightly too far apart. How was I flawless? The doctor chuckled happily before excusing himself to head off to the next patient. I got up, walked to the mirror on the wall. As I looked at my reflection, my eyes built up with tears, as I felt like I was in a trance. I knew I was looking at myself because my ocean blue eyes shined dully back at me, the dead look still present. Though nothing else looked like me. I reached my hand up, touching every inch as I wondered if they had just cut one person's face off and slapped it on me. How could I look so different?
"Do you like it, sweetheart? Does this make you happy?" Father asked excitedly. He was expecting me to love it. Could I lie to him? Could I tell him the truth?
"I just need time, father." I said emotionlessly, making his shoulders slump. Before this, I was a happy kid, always smiling and trying to get an inch of a smile out of my father. Not anymore though, and I think my father was hoping this change would have brought his bubbly but serious daughter back to the forefront. What he didn't know, was, I thought the old Liberty was gone forever. "I am walking home, and I will be safe. Please excuse me."
Father tried to protest, he tried to block me within the room. Nothing worked. I left the office, with my scarf wrapped around my face. No one would ever see me, nothing but my eyes were visible and that was how I liked it. I took my time, allowing my mind to wonder, even in the darkest places. Before too long, I was in the park, sitting on a bench. This place used to be my safe place, my solace. Until that dreadful day two years ago.
The rape, on top of the unique disease I have had all my life, made my father see me in a way others didn't. I knew he was trying to protect me, but after seeing how my face was impeccable, though nowhere close to how I previously looked, I couldn't stand to be around anyone, not even myself. It hurt to think I looked like a new person, someone no one would recognize but as faultless as a model. I only wanted to be myself. I was ashamed of what that monster, the one I should have been able to stop, had caused.
