Chapter 4 LIKE A BULL

They drove in silence to his house or wherever he was taking her. He couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself. His wandering touch roamed around her lap, making her feel uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. She wanted to swat his hand away, to tell him to stop, but she couldn't.

She kept her composure, trying to appear unfazed by his advances, but her heart was beating so loud she was afraid he could hear it.

She focused on keeping her body as still as possible, trying not to give him any reason to touch her again. Every time he reached for the radio or adjusted the air conditioning, she felt herself flinch.

Finally, a hotel came into view and he pulled into an empty parking spot. She let out a sigh of relief as she stepped out of the car. She tried to brush off the tension from the car ride as they made their way inside.

"I have a room booked for us," he told the receptionist. She felt a knot of fear in her stomach when he took the key.

The elevator ride up to the room felt like an eternity. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor. He stood beside her with folded arms. The elevator opened and they walked down the hallway to locate their room. When they finally reached the room, he opened the door and ushered her inside.

Every fiber of her being wanted to run, to escape from this luxurious prison. She knew she had agreed to this arrangement, but in that moment, she regretted it more than anything.

He poured himself a drink and settled into a chair, she felt the weight of his gaze on her, like chains holding her in place. Tara forced herself to stay composed, hiding the panic and dread that were boiling inside her.

"You don't have to worry about a thing, if anything, I should be the one worried, trying to bed an overpriced whore who claims not to be one." He sneered.

Tara's eyes widened and she shook with anger but she was unable to find her voice.

She saw him moving around in her peripheral vision, and that made her clasp her legs tightly in fear. He placed a cup in front of her and gestured with his head, "Here, you can have this." She hesitated but collected it and downed it in one gulp, wishing for the night to end soon.

"Take a moment to freshen up and have a shower," he instructed, gesturing towards the bathroom. She complied, spending her time in the bathroom. After finishing, she wrapped herself in a bathrobe and exited the bathroom. He then entered the bathroom, taking his turn to shower.

The room was steamy from the hot water of the shower. She could hear the water running in the bathroom as she wrapped herself tighter in the fluffy bathrobe, feeling the warmth and softness of the fabric cocooning her body. When he emerged, only a towel covered his hips, revealing his inked stomach with water droplets glistening down his abs.

He walked towards her, his eyes dark and intense, and she felt a pang of fear and uncertainty. She knew what was coming, what she had agreed to, but now that it was happening, she felt a wave of panic wash over her.

Tara took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. She wanted to run, to hide, but she knew there was no escape. So, she swallowed her fear and tried to push it all to the back of her mind.

"Can you please dim the light?" she asked softly, her voice shaking slightly. He obliged, and as the room grew darker, she felt a small sense of relief. But that relief was short-lived when he ripped her robe from her body leaving her bare and defenseless.

Like a pro, he swiftly flipped her over on her stomach and positioned her on the edge of the bed. His touch was rough and unforgiving, and she felt herself tensing with every movement. He then opened the bedside wardrobe, grabbed a condom, and tore it clean off with his teeth.

He came in like a bull in a china shop, with no finesse, and no consideration for her feelings. She tried to push him off and begged him to stop, but he didn't care. He just kept going, like it was all about him. She cried bitterly as she took the onslaught of it all and he fucked her like the whore he believed her to be.

As the minutes passed, she felt more and more detached from her body, like she was watching the scene from above. It was as if the pain and discomfort were no longer her own, but belonged to someone else entirely. All she could do was lay there, counting the seconds until it was finally over.

She closed her eyes and tried to find a place of calm within herself, a place where she could retreat and find some sense of safety. But as he continued, the feeling of violation and helplessness only grew stronger. She felt her tears slipping down her cheeks and the lump in her throat made it hard to breathe.

Then he started grunting, increasing his pace slamming into her roughly then in the twinkle of an eye he pulled out.

Tara exhaled shakily knowing it was over, that she had endured it, she wrapped herself in the bathrobe again, feeling exposed and raw. It all happened so fast, and it was all so brutal. She felt violated, used, and discarded like a piece of trash. She couldn't comprehend how someone could be so callous, so utterly devoid of any empathy or care for another human being's well-being.

She had thought that he would treat her with respect and tenderness. But now, all of that had been shattered, broken into a million irreparable pieces. She couldn't bring herself to even look at him, couldn't bear the thought of having to see his face after what he had done to her.

But as she lay there, curled up in a ball with tears streaming down her face, she knew that she had to be strong. She wouldn't let this define her, wouldn't let this one horrific experience dictate the rest of her life.

She wiped away her tears, took a deep breath, and slowly got up from the ground with wobbly legs. She couldn't erase what had happened, but she could choose how she would react to it. She would not let this destroy her spirit, her resilience, her zest for life. She curled onto the bed and waited for sleep comforting embrace.