Purple and bluish shackles covered her wrists, encircling her pale skin, a tattoo of his anger and his threats staring back at her. She's dressed with a knitted gray sweater that covers half her hand, but her heart still pounds with panic every time someone comes close to her. Peter passed her tea at lunch and she started panting in panic. That had been just lovely to explain to her best friends as they stared suspiciously at her. She's staring at herself in the bathroom's mirror and she doesn't recognize the girl looking back with fear. She's a ghost of herself, paler than usual, her freckles little maroon sprinkles in her high cheekbones, and her eyes surrounded by purple shadows, a parody of her bruises.

The door opened but Ariel was too lost in her own thoughts and regrets to notice it. It wasn't until she felt the familiar pressure of his hands on her waist that she realized what he'd come to do. She closed her eyes tight until she saw a shower of white stars behind her eyelids. "Go away, go away, go away, go away, go away", she begged in her mind, but she knew it was useless. She was marble and frost, shattered and petrified and waiting, counting every second, hoping that he wouldn't. But of course he would. She felt his fingers caress her curls, pushing them away from her neck, and then the punishing gliding of his lips on her neck. He had always loved giving her hickeys when they had been together, but now it was worse. It was a way of marking her, taunting her, knowing that Killian would see those marks. But she hadn't seen Killian in a week, she feigned that she had exams and projects and catching up to Tinkerbell and Peter. Killian was only too willing to please her and give her the space she needed, but her phone was filled with texts, I love you's and sweet nothings. She could barely stand to answer him, knowing Eric was blackmailing her with kisses and bruises. When she felt Eric's teeth graze her pulse point, she whimpered, but not in pleasure like he wanted her, but in fear, in disgust and in shame. Shame for letting this happen, for having to silence her ex boyfriend with her body and her broken skin.

"Eric, please. Not at school. Please. If someone sees you in the girl's bathroom, we'll be in so much trouble", she pleaded as she turned and met his cruel smirk and his hand tightened in the dip of her hips. She trembled.

"You know who else could be in trouble with your daddy? Mr. Jones. I bet your daddy wouldn't mind the night in jail for beating his sorry ass. What a pathetic excuse of a man, who has to lie and catch stupid high school girls to feel like a man," with each word Eric's voice rose and her shaking got so bad her teeth clattered as if she were freezing. His eyes got a harsh, mocking glint when he noticed. His hand moved from her waist to her mouth, fingering her lips, painting them with guilt. She turned her face, trying to hide into her curls, but his hands pulled her chin back, hard. She wondered how she would explain that bruise.

Eric's face came closer and that's when the real panic started. With these past 168 hours she'd spent feeling remorseful, hiding from her family and friends and Killian, covering herself with sweaters and concealer and make up, for every touch of his lips, pressure of his hands, and threat, she hadn't once let him kiss her lips. She would turn and he would catch her cheek. Mostly he preferred her neck, it was a sign of domination and the most vulnerable place in her body. But she hadn't once let him ruin her mouth. She couldn't, wouldn't stand living with herself knowing that he had sullied her mouth.

He grabbed her chin and held her still, she started trashing, as quietly as she could, but it was useless. He was so much stronger. He measured her silence, but her eyes were blazing with hate, with terror as he came closer. He whispered into her mouth:

"You're mine and I will ruin you for him. He can't touch you like I do. If he does, I'll have his ass sent to jail. Would you like that, baby? Being called jailbait?"

She tried closing her lips, she tried escaping this, but she couldn't couldn't couldn't. His fingers dug into the sides of her jaw, forcing her lips apart, like you would do to a disobedient dog.

"I didn't press charges for the attack, but the second you refuse me, I will. Babe, you know I will. So be a good girl", he threatened and nipped her lower lip, playing with her, leaving his saliva inside her, laughing at her repulsion.

It wasn't until she heard his whistles out in the hallway that she felt her knees hit the cold tiles and a wounded sob resounded in the girl's bathroom.