FicWad

My eyes flashed as I stared at the man I had loved and come to care for so much. Cutler still hadn't changed expressions. He tried to take my hands, but I ripped them out of his grip and glared. Sighing, Cutler murmured, "Jenna, you have to listen to me. You have to understand. I didn't mean it in that way. She fucked me, not vice versa. I still love-"

I cut him off here. No fucking way was I going to listen to how he still loved me. I grabbed Cutler's shoulders and pinned him against the opposite wall. He looked down at me with his blue eyes dripping with sadness. I dug my fingernails hard into his shoulders, but he made no effort to try to get away. For some reason, that just made me more furious.

"Why, Cutler? Why?" I asked hysterically, shoving him harder against the wall. I still couldn't believe that he had betrayed me like this. How could he have? Did all that lovemaking mean nothing to him? Had I just been a tool in a grand scheme? Tears of hurt and anger started running down my face as I stared up at Cutler, looking for some sort of reason.

"Baby, I had to get married at some point, didn't you see that?" Cutler asked, trying to make me see his point of view. "All men of my rank who are my age have been married for quite some time now. I thought you would understand. We can still be together. We can try to make this work..." Cutler trailed off as he got a good look at my face.

We could make this work? No way. Cutler could not love two women. He'd end up loving one and hating the other. That's how it always happened. And his new wife was so beautiful. It would be obvious just who he would end up hating. I was not going to let myself get into that position. This was the end of our relationship right here and now.

"No," I said bluntly. "Don't even try that on me. I know you never loved me. I was just a girl you could turn into your whore. You never loved me at all. Never! God, I fucking hate you, Cutler Beckett! I wish I had never met you. You're the worst mistake that's ever happened to me." I stared at him with fiery eyes, chest heaving, and forehead sweating.

Cutler said and did nothing for a good five minutes. He just stared at me in a contemplating manner. I wished he would do or say something. I was no longer in a mood to stay calm. Finally, Cutler spoke. He put a hand on my shoulder and tried to make me look him in the eye as he said, "What can I do to make you believe me? I'll do anything for you."

I slapped Cutler's hand away and hissed, "Don't touch me." I leaned up so we were eye-to-eye and ended up pressing my body against his during the process. Cutler eyed me warily, but didn't move an inch. I glared murderously at him until I felt something hard press against my stomach. Oh god, Cutler was still hard with desire for me despite the fact that I was yelling at him.

To be honest, I found I wanted him too. Shit, look what he had done to me and my body. The anger and rage churned within me. I wanted to make Cutler hut. I wanted to kill him. My actions were no longer my own as I stared Cutler in the eye in that little room. No, some force of the devil worked inside my heart and made it want to explode.

All the hurt and abuse Ian had brought down on me used to be let out with sex, but now, I had to find some other way to let my anger out. The only way I could do that was with violence and Cutler happened to be the one I was angry with at this particular moment. I spat in his face and pulled my fist back. I wanted to mar that beautiful face. I wanted to see blood spill that wasn't my own.

I slammed my fist into Cutler's face. Nothing happened, so I did it again. Cutler's eyelids closed slightly and he bite his tongue as he watched me. Blood spurted out of his nose and he still looked regal and beautiful despite the nosebleed. The fact that he wasn't fighting or even showing signs of pain was driving me insane. It made me want to hurt him more.

"Why aren't you fucking fighting me?" I yelled as I pulled my fist back again. Cutler eyed me as if I was an immature little girl and he shook his head as he murmured, "Who the hell are you?" The comment made the anger get to a breaking point inside me. I wanted Cutler dead. I wanted him to suffer for breaking my heart and killing my soul.

Cutler looked at me totally stunned as if he didn't recognize me. I didn't care. All I knew was that I had to make him pay. I slammed my fist as hard as I could into his chest. I wasn't very strong, but my anger was fueling me onwards. I punched him again and again. Smashing my fist into his chest for a fifth time, I heard an ugly crack.

If it weren't for the crack, I don't think I would ever have stopped punching him. Cutler, who had stayed silent up to this point, whimpered and threw an arm over his chest as if to hold himself together. The crack made me freeze. What was that? Had I actually smashed one of his ribs? I hadn't down I was that strong, but I had been very, very angry.

Abruptly, I turned back to normal. My angry seemed to diminish and turned to horror instead. Hell, I had just hurt my ex-lover. I had tried to kill him even. Cutler's eyes were wide and he panted as his chest heaved. He grabbed the wall opposite the one he was leaning against in order to stay upright. What I did next was one of the biggest mistakes I have ever made.

Okay, well first, let me ask you this: what would you have done in my situation? Answer that. I made the wrong choice. I eyed Cutler in horror and fled. Pushing open the door to the little room, I ran out and slammed it shut behind me. That was when I knew I just had to get out and away. I pushed through the crowds in the room until I reached the door.

Once I reached the doors, there was nothing to hold me back. I bolted. Running right through the doors, I left Cutler, Ian, and my past life behind. My feet slammed down on the pavement as I ran and ran. Many mixed emotions filled me as I ran across the street. I felt conflicted: I had hurt Cutler despite the fact that he still owned my heart. God, what should I have done?

And Ian, well, I was certainly glad to rebel against him. My thoughts did not contain any future plans. I only acted on impulse. My hair flew out behind me and the wind whipped against me as I ran. Wanting to go faster, I flung my shoes off and tossed them into an alley as I ran faster and faster. I paid no attention to where I was going. It just had to be away.

Nobody can run for forever. And certainly my weak body wasn't going to take me too far. After a while, I tripped, stumbled, and fell. I tried to get up to keep going, but could not. My body just refused to move. I was lying in the middle of the street. Any carriage could easily come and trample me and to be honest, I didn't care. Maybe that was for the best. My eyes closed and I passed out.

Unfortunately, when I woke up next, I was not dead like I had hoped. No, when I woke up, I was flung across the back of a horse. My limbs shook and trembled. Everything hurt and ached as we bounced up and down. Moaning, I attempted to open my eyes. I was staring at someone's back. The someone had greasy brown hair and was wearing a black cape and gloves: Ian.

Oh god, of course Ian would have to have found me. I groaned a bit more. Ian turned back and looked at me, saying, "So, I see the little runaway has woken up. What you like to tell me what the hell you were thinking trying to run away like that? What were you going to do? Where were you going to go? You would've died on your own, you know that."

That was true. I probably would've died on my own. Funny thing was that I didn't even care. I didn't answer Ian. Ian didn't talk to me for the rest of the trip home. When we arrived, he pulled me off the horse and held me in his arms as he kicked open the door. We went straight to the bedroom without any detours. Fuck, was he going to rape me again?

Ian laid me down on the bed and eyed me for a moment. He slipped his hands under my back and started untying my dress. He pulled it off and reached up to yank the lace down my legs until I was stripped naked. Ian grabbed a shiny silver pistol and held it to my heart. My breast heaved slightly and my eyes glazed as I looked at the pistol. So he was going to kill me after all. But did it even matter? It wasn't like I was enjoying life that much anyways. There was nothing left to live for.

I stopped trembling and shaking. My breath came normally and I closed my eyes as I waited to hear the shot and feel the pain go splitting down my body. It didn't come. Opening my eyes, I peered up to see what Ian was waiting for. Ian was eying me with an odd expression on his face. I couldn't tell what he was doing, but he looked thoughtful.

Glancing up at Ian, I said, "Go ahead and shoot me. It's okay. Please do it." It was so weird how I had struggled to hang on to my life for so long and now I just wanted to give it up. Ian apparently found that strange too. He gave me a puzzled look and slowly put the pistol away. Shit! Why did he always have to do the opposite of what I said?

"No, I don't want to kill you," Ian confirmed. "You're too much fun to lose. No, you'll just stay here with me for a while." Smiling smugly, Ian came back into the room with a glass of water in his hand. He handed it to me and murmured, "Drink this." Seeing no reason not to, I went ahead and drank the water. After all, I was parched.

As soon as the drink was down in my belly, I started feeling weird. My vision immediately started blurring and I felt very sick. What was going on? Ian paced in front of me, only a blur to me now. As he paced, he spoke to me, saying, "I'm going to have a party in two weeks. You're going to be my prize possession and in the meantime, I'm going to make some money off of you."

Money off me? What was that suppose to mean? Even though my vision was very obscured and I felt very tired, I slurred out, "What do you mean? How are you going to make money off of me?" Ian smiled down at me and tucked my body under the covers. Okay, that was just plain weird. Why the hell would Ian be tucking me into bed?

"You'll see," was all Ian would tell me. He closed my eyelids and spread my hair out behind me on the pillow as he said, "Sleep, little one, you're going to need it." With that said, Ian disappeared out of the bedroom and shut the door behind me. I was left in a mess of confusion. What the hell was Ian doing? He hated me. Why was he doing all this?

My brain quickly started to shut down and any thoughts or questions going through my head were abandoned. All that matter was sleep. I needed sleep. If I didn't have sleep immediately, it felt like I was going to die. It was weird really. I had never felt this strange before. Something was fucked up, but I couldn't put my finger on it as I fell into a deep sleep.

Before I knew it, hands were squeezing me tightly. I was shook awake and found someone spitting in my face. Blinking, I looked up to see Cutler staring back at me. His blue eyes bore into mine, but they were different. Instead of being loving and beautiful, they were angry and cold. He grabbed my clothes and ripped them to pieces, leaving me naked.

He grabbed my throat and started throttling me as he whispered, "How could you do this to me? Ian was right; you are a bitch. A fucking cunt who has no control over herself. What did I ever see in you? You're right about everything. You were just a tool in a bigger plan although now, I don't even see why I'd want to have a fling with a piece of shit."

The air was being squeezed out of my lungs. I couldn't breathe, let alone do anything else. I just looked up into his eyes, trying to tell him I was sorry. I was sorry for everything from the day we had met and I had asked to love him to yesterday when I had broken a rib. Because really, under all that, there was so much passion and love for him that nothing else really mattered.

Cutler squeezed the life from my body. I was going to die from lack of oxygen, and I didn't even care. All that mattered was that I would die by Cutler's hand and that was what I wanted most. Sounds contradictory, I know, but all I wanted was to be with him when I died. My eyes closed peacefully and I waited for my heart to stop beating. It didn't happen.

Cutler let my throat go and pulled a shiny knife from his coat pocket. He traced my breasts with the tip of it and smiled at me evilly. I blinked up at him, trying to choke out that I was sorry. Unfortunately, I still couldn't find my voice. Cutler lifted one of my legs and stuck a finger in my warmness. He swirled his finger around in there and started thrusting in and out.

God, that felt good. I dripped around him and moaned with pleasure until Cutler's expression changed. Hatred crossed his face. He yanked his fingers out of me and a horrible pain filled my body as he stuck the knife up my hole. He started thrusting in and out of me with the horrible blade. Blood splattered everywhere and I screamed. The last thing I saw before my eyes rolled back in my head was the little smirk on Cutler's full lips and the silver knife covered with my life's blood.