Falling for the Villain by M. Robinson

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Donovan

I was sitting in the closet, all the way in the back corner, where he couldn’t see me at first. It didn’t matter how far back I hid in the darkness; he always found me.

I cried; I couldn’t help it.

I didn’t like it in here.

“Sir … please let me out. Please, Dad. I’ll be a good boy. I promise; I’ll be the best boy.”

He didn’t listen. He never did.

My body was shaking.

I was scared.

What would he do to me this time?

Tears streamed down my face; faster and faster, they fell down my cheeks as I waited for the punishment that always came.

“Shhh … baby … shhh…”

I recognized her soothing voice, knowing who was in my room with me.

“Play for me, Mama,” I murmured so low she wouldn’t hear what I said.

He didn’t like that. When I begged for her. It’d only make him meaner, madder, hurt me more than throwing me in my closet with the door locked on the other side so I couldn’t get out.

I was trapped.

Alone.

It wasn’t long before I heard her playing on my piano for me. She always did when she could get away from him, long enough to comfort my fear of him. He was never nice. He didn’t smile, or laugh, or play with me like I’d see in movies and television shows.

Nothing.

He yelled, and hit, and threw me in the closet. Sometimes it felt like I lived in here, with my sadness and my tears that never stopped. Mama started playing Clair de Lune, my favorite song.

I don’t know how many times she repeated it until all of a sudden, I heard his hateful roar, “Did you think I wouldn’t have found out?”

She stopped playing, her finger sitting on a key for a second too long.

I gasped, thinking he was talking to me, but he wasn’t. I could see through one of the holes in the door that he made one night with a knife. He stabbed it so many times, screaming that I was a bad boy who never listened to him.

I did.

I tried to.

It wasn’t enough.

It never was.

“I asked you a question, pet. Don’t make me ask you again.”

I jumped, hating every second of what was happening, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

I was stuck.

I couldn’t move, trying to breathe through the terror I was feeling. Exactly how Mama taught me to.

“Master, I don’t know what you mean.”

“You fucking liar!”

The sound of his whip was the next thing I heard, instantly hitting Mama’s skin. I didn’t make a sound. Even though I wanted to scream, shout, beg him to stop beating her. Usually, he’d strike her a few times and then stop; this time, he wasn’t stopping himself.

“Master, please…”

“Donovan, do you see?! Do you hear your lying whore of a mother?!”

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

He struck her so many times I lost count. She fell to the floor by the bench of the piano.

Surrendering in mercy.

Usually he would stop. This time he didn’t hold back on his assault.

“Donovan…” he sang in that voice I hated more than anything. “Tell him the truth, pet. Where did my boy come from?”

“Master, please… I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“You’re a horrible fucking mother, lying to him for this long. I can’t trust you with anything, you stupid bitch!”

Over and over, he hit her.

I looked right at the whip with wide eyes, terrified of if he would stop.

Would he?

It didn’t feel like it.

“You like that, son?” he asked like he could see me. “Maybe you will turn out to be something and someone after all.”

He was in front of the closet in four hard steps, and I instinctively shot back into the wall behind me.

There was nowhere I could go, but that didn’t stop my mind from thinking I could hide from him. He unlocked the closet and opened the doors.

Was this a trick?

What do I do?

“Come here.”

I looked at my mama from across the room; her face was sad and afraid. She always had the same face when he was around. She wasn’t the same mom with him in the house.

“I. Said. Come. Here.”

I didn’t like the sound of his voice as I moved toward him.

“Crawl to me, Donovan.”

“Sir—”

“Did I say you could talk?”

I shook my head, getting down on my hands and knees. Slowly, I did what he ordered.

“This cat o’ nine tails, son,” he said, moving his head toward it, “carries so much power. You have no idea how much control and power you have with this simple weapon. Now, this is your chance to prove to me that you aren’t fucking worthless. I want you to take it and hit your mother. Do you understand?”

I halted dead in my tracks.

“Master…”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” he seethed, yelling at Mama. “I’m sick of hearing your voice! I’m having a man-to-man conversation with my son, and if you know what’s good for you, you will shut the fuck up before I lose my patience with you!”

I shook my head again, but he cocked his head to the side with a vindictive look on his face.

“Are you saying no to me?”

“Sir, I don’t want to,” I swallowed, trying to hold back the tears. Knowing it would only get me in further trouble with him.

“Grab the fucking cat o’ nine tails, Donovan, NOW!”

Trembling, I did as I was told and grabbed the cat o’ nine tails by the handle. It was heavy and felt cold. I wanted to place it back into his hand, but he must have sensed my hesitation because he moved closer to me and wrapped my hand around it, the way it’s supposed to be held, he said. Stepping behind me, he gripped onto the handle as hard as he could. His powerful grasp was killing my hand under his.

I tried to focus on that pain instead of what my heart was feeling when he kept ordering me to hit my mom.

Louder and louder his voice became.

I hated the feeling and wanted to scream and run, but I knew it would be worse for my mom if I did. I didn’t want him to hurt her anymore. I was tired of seeing him hurt her. She never did anything to deserve it. He had no mercy, and he would laugh and only hit us harder. He said we deserved it, and he would call us all sorts of names. Some I understood, others I didn’t.

“NOW,” he roared so loud I thought he broke my eardrum.

I could still feel the vibrations of his tone as I hysterically begged, “Please, Sir, I don’t want to … please…” I couldn’t control my tears any longer, and they flowed loosely down my face. I could taste them in my mouth, and it was hard for me to see through each one of them.

“How many times do I have to tell you that real men don’t fucking cry! You will grow up to be just like me. Just like your father—that I can promise you!”

I didn’t want to grow up and be like him. I didn’t want to be anything like the man behind me. He was evil. I hated him, and in that moment, at ten years old, I learned the true meaning of the word.

“DO IT! NOW!”

I closed my eyes, praying that it would all go away. I silently prayed to God that he wouldn’t make me do this. That he would stop time or that this was just a bad dream. That it wasn’t real. But when I turned to face her, and he ordered me to open my eyes and hit her, I learned in that second, in that moment, that there was no God, or if there was, that he didn’t listen or care about my mother and me.

If he did … what followed next would have never happened.

“When you aim a cat o’ nine tails at someone, you make damn sure that you make them bleed. Do you understand, Donovan?”

My mama’s face would forever haunt my dreams. She didn’t look sad or terrified … nothing of what I imagined she would. Not that I thought about this ever, but sometimes in my dreams, I’d see her in front of me, saying goodbye. The expression on her face was always devastated; she didn’t want to leave.

Though here, she looked relieved as if I were setting her free.

Letting her go.

I didn’t want her to leave… What would happen to me if she were gone?

“No, Sir!” I screamed, not caring about the repercussions. “Please don’t make me do this, please, Sir, please,” I mercifully pleaded.

“DO. IT!”

“Please, Master, please don’t make him do this… Have mercy… God … please don’t do this…” She came out of the daze she was in seconds before.

But he didn’t wait any longer, and the first slap fell across her back. My hand was pinned beneath his, and even though I wasn’t the one inflicting the pain, I still felt it in every inch of my body.

He didn’t stop.

He never stopped.

He made me hit her until she wasn’t moving.

Until she wasn’t breathing.

Until all I could see…

Was her bloody and lifeless body.

I was crying, petrified, knowing nothing would be the same after this.

I knew that like I knew his name, Sir.

“I’m sorry, Mama, I’m so sorry,” I openly bawled, barely containing my shaking body and voice as I tried to move her.

The next thing I knew, he backhanded me across the face so hard that I flew across the room. I hit the floor with a thud and immediately hurt all over.

My head was throbbing, and the room was spinning.

It was only just the beginning.

I wanted her arms around me.

Her comfort.

Her warmth.

Her love.

He crudely grabbed my chin, making me look into his dark eyes. “Look what you did, Donovan. You finally proved your worth!”

It didn’t matter how many times I had this nightmare play out from my memory; I will never forget what he said next.

It was what made me who I am today.

In my harsh reality, he made me look into his devious glare.

“You’re going to be just like me, and one day, you’re going to thank me for it.”

“NOOOO!” I screamed, gasping for air, sitting straight up in bed.

I was sweating profusely, my mind disoriented, and my bed soaked beneath me. I couldn’t tell the difference between my dream and reality. I was shaking all over, and I couldn’t catch my breath.

“Are you okay?”

My gaze locked with Juliet’s. I must have passed out in her bed with her in my arms.

“What happened?” she whispered, her lips trembling. Reminding me of my mother. “What happened to you? Who is Sir?”

My eyes widened. “My, my, pet. What big ears you have.”

“You were screaming.”

I was right back in that room with him. It didn’t matter that Juliet was in front of me; all I could see.

Hear.

Feel.

Was him.

“Please tell me your name?”

There was something about the way she requested that broke me out of the trancelike state, but I couldn’t confess my sins.

At least not right now.

Juliet

Icould see the shift in his stare.

I was playing with fire, and that didn’t for one second stop me from wanting to know the truth about him. Especially his name.

“Please don’t make me do this, please, Sir, please.”

His terrified tone reminded me so much of my own.

“I’m sorry, Mama, I’m so sorry.”

My head swirled with aftershocks of what I overhead and the way he was looking at me. It held so much sincerity and humanity as if he was another man who was suddenly caring.

“Please tell me your name,” I requested again.

But it was over before it even began.

He crudely grabbed the back of my neck, pushing me down onto the floor on my knees in front of him. His fingers raked through my scalp before he grabbed a handful of hair and pulled my head back. I watched him unzip his pants and release his hard, thick cock.

“Look at me. Let me see your eyes.”

I did as I was told, peering into the eyes of the man that reminded me of everything that had gone wrong in my life.

This was the first time I’d seen his dick, and it was quite a sight. Still gripping onto my hair, in one quick movement, he thrust his cock right into my mouth with no warning. I gagged at the sensation, his head hitting the back of my throat. Sliding back out and all the way in, he repeated this a couple more times.

I wanted to bite down, and of course, he read my mind.

“Try it and watch how fast I make you bleed for me.” Holding me tighter, he ordered, “Push out your tongue. I want my cock all the way in; don’t fight me.”

I expected him to thrust back in. I was confused when he plugged my nose with his fingers instead.

“You breathe when I fucking let you.”

Once again, he shoved his cock to the back of my throat, not letting go of my nose. My head hit the mattress, and I couldn’t move. He didn’t stop until my lips met his groin, and he held me there for several long seconds.

“Look at me. How am I supposed to know when to let you breathe if I can’t see your eyes?”

He pulled out, and I gasped for air while an uncontrollable amount of drool and tears slid down the side of my mouth. Growling and grunting the entire time he fucked my face.

He loosened his hold and let go of my nose, sliding out his dick.

“Breathe.”

I did.

Thrusting back in, he used my mouth in the way he seemed fit. I’d never given a blow job before, and I knew this wouldn’t be the last time he’d take a first from me.

Should I be grateful he started off with this?

He continued this process until he couldn’t take it anymore and came with such force that my entire body shook from his spasms. His hold tightened, making it almost impossible to catch my breath, with an intensity I had never experienced.

Crouching down to my level, he demanded, “Swallow.” When I did, he praised, “You’re such a good girl.”

I smiled, seeking out his attention. Almost falling on my ass as soon as he added…

“I’m always your master, but my name is Donovan.”