His hold on me gets stronger, tightening with each passing second. It's almost like he wants to hurt me, to inflict pain, and so immediately I try to save myself, to pull away, because it actually really f*****g hurts. He's a big man, his strength formidable, he's strong, a wall of muscle and bone, and my hand is small and fragile.
Yes, I am weak, vulnerable against him.
"Asher, let me go, you're hurting me, you're hurting me...Asher, let me go," I plead, my voice a desperate whisper.
He looks at me, his eyes snapping open, and this is the time that I actually look at him, truly see him. His face is filled with disgust and repulsiveness, as he asks me, pulling me close to him, his grip unrelenting. He's still sleeping on the bed, half-propped up, while I'm standing, trapped. He pulls
