I stood outside Clarkson's study, my heart pounding and my hands shaking.

Once a month, I make a trip to his study. I go so that Maxon doesn't have to.

He takes out his anger on me now, instead of Maxon.

I couldn't take it anymore, some days Maxon couldn't even get up from our bed, he'd reopen his wounds and the pain that etched its way across his face was too much for me, it killed me to see him this way, and from his own father.

He's not my father, I knew that before Maxon and I got married, he'd never be my father. Which makes it easier for me to hate him and for him to beat me.

It's been this way for two months. Maxon hadn't suspected anything - well, he was suspicious when his father came and told him that he no longer would beat him, that he's become a new man.

I always write it off to Maxon as it being my period, which usually works, every time I reopen a scar, I'd tell him it was a cramp, every time I cried from the pain I'd blame it on the mood swings.

Mary caught me right away. The first morning I woke up with the cuts in my back, after Maxon had left to his study after I convinced him I was alright, she stared at me, "What happened?"

I'd spilt, telling her everything. She would always dress me herself that week after I visited his study, she would bandage me up until they healed and changed my wardrobe so that there were no open back dresses.

I glared at the door of his study and yanked the door open, wiping my face of emotion as I walked into his study.

He looked up and smirked, tilting back in his chair as I shut the door behind me.

He shot me a pointed look.

The lock clicked as I slid it into place.

His smirk returned and he stood, picking up his set of keys and unlocking the drawer of his desk, lazily flicking his whip before shutting the drawer.

"You know what to do," he growled.

I did.

I owned one open back dress and wore it every meeting, that was he could only target my back and I wouldn't have to strip.

My hair was already pulled back into a bun, sloppily. Mary's hands shook as she did it this morning, her mouth pressed into a firm line.

I leant into the concrete wall, my forearms raised above my head, my weight resting there.

I hung my head and took a deep breath, for this was the last time for a while I could do it without opening a wound, causing me pain.

"You truly are something, America," he spat my name, like it disgusted him.

His footsteps fell hard and slow against the tiled floor and they stopped behind me, i clenched my hands into fists.

"My son was an idiot choosing you, you know how much he could've gained if he'd chosen Kriss, or Elise?" He spoke softly and my body hummed with anticipation, waiting for my skin to burn, "Do you!?"

He roared and brought the whip down on the small of my back, my teeth sank into my bottom lip as my eyes squeezed shut. Stabbing pain spread throughout my back like lava.

I tried to stay silent, wishing not to give him the satisfaction. The shaking, I couldn't help.

He chuckled, "Look at the five, shaking! If only my son could see you now. His brave-" the whip snapped, "proud-" blood flooded my mouth, "Queen!"

A scream ripped its way through my body and I sagged against the wall, clutching and claw in for something to hold onto.

Maxon.

I rolled my eyes bitterly at myself. Maxon wasn't coming to save me. Clarkson purposefully picked these times when Maxon is in a long meeting and makes sure Amberly isn't anywhere around.

Clarkson scoffed at me, "You've barely made it five minutes, America, you're losing your touch."

I spat the blood out of my mouth and onto his floor, causing him to growl at me, "You think just because you're queen means you can do anything you want... well, as long as I'm alive, you'll know you're place... the fifth caste."

He brought the whip does harder this time, and two more times afterwards.

My legs gave out and I slid to the ground in a heap, screaming as I fell.

The pain was overwhelming and my vision was dotted with black.

I braced myself for the next impact when the shriek of the door startled me to look behind me.

Clarkson was In ready position, his arm hearted in the air, whip waiting over his shoulder to be swung down.

His face shone with shock and fear.

"Father!" An enraged voice filled the room and I flinched.

My eyes quickly traveled to the doorway and there was Maxon, a pile of papers at his feet, his hands clenched in fists at his side and his jaw clenched so hard it jutted out of skin.

I slid to the ground on my stomach In relief, my back numb and my head spinning.

"America!" His face broke into concern and he ran over to me, I closed my eyes and held my hand out to him, which he immediately grabbed, crushing it with one hand as his other rested on the side of my face.

I sobbed, half out of relief and half out of pain, "I'm sorry."

He shook his head at me, "No, No, America, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for!"

At that, he spun, narrowing his eyes at his father, "You! I cannot believe you would do this! Beating me, wouldn't surprise me in the least, but my wife? How sick are you?"

Clarkson hung up the whip, dripping with my blood, which made Maxon cringe, "You'd better watch it, Maxon. Besides, you make me out to be the bad guy when you wife practically begged me to beat her instead of you!"

Maxon went limp as he turned to look at me, his face pinched, "Is that true?"

I blinked and sighed, "I'm sorry."

Maxon set his jaw, "Guards!"

Clarkson immediately tensed, eyeing the door. Maxon glared at him, "Try it, try running, but in about ten seconds, the palace will be full of guards looking for you and won't hesitate to shoot you if you resist."

Clarkson clenched his jaw and stopped.

Three guards flooded into the study and Maxon kneeled down beside me, grasping both my hands, "Can you stand?"

I grimaced and nodded.

Maxon looked over to the guards, i immediately recognized Aspen leading them.

His eyes widened as he saw me, "America!"

Maxon looked to him, "Aspen, arrest my father and take him to the dungeons where he will wait for his sentence for harassing the king and Queen."

Aspen nodded to the other guards and they flanked him, placing handcuffs around his wrists and leading him out of the study.

As soon as he disappeared, my body relaxed.

Aspen ran over to Macon's side, "We need to get her to the hospital wing."

Maxon nodded and grabbed my forearms, helping me up off the ground.

I gritted through the pain but once I was kneeling, the pain was overwhelming.

"Maxon, it hurts," I whimpered.

"I know, darling, I know, just hang on a little longer, we'll get you to the doctor, he'll make the pain go away," he soothed, grabbing me by the hips and gently pulling me towards him.

I hooked my arms around his neck as he held me up and against him, one of his arms under my thighs and the other against the small of my back, causing me to hiss at the pain of his hand on my newest cut.

"Hold on, America, hold on for me," he whispered in my ear as he rushed out of the study, Aspen leading the way.

I shut my eyes and buried my face I. The crook of his neck, somehow the pain was easier to bare when I was there.

I whispered against his skin, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

I whispered until the world went dark.