Addiction
Prologue 1

Day 1

It was heaven, every time I inhaled and every time I exhaled, I felt the high come to me and I savored every moment. I always loved feeling like this, it took everything away. All the times I wanted to cry, I inhaled, every time I wanted to die, I inhaled. I don't know what else to name because I can't tell whether my life is heaven or hell. I get whatever the hell I want but in return I get what I deserve and I don't know if that's good or bad. I hated my life but I loved it too. What to do…?

I sat in my bedroom in the penthouse of the hotel my boyfriend owns, smoking paradise with the window open. I stared out at the world waiting for the said person to return from his business meeting so I can lay on the bed and let him screw me silly. I dropped my cigarette in the ashtray and closed the window. It would be any moment now and then my heavenly hell would start. I don't know why I even stay, I don't think it's because I love him, or his money; I think it's because he's always been there for me and it would be hard to let him go. Also the fact of I don't know what he might do to me if I ever tried to leave. I listened for awhile before I heard the door click and open, the clatter of things falling over as he threw his briefcase somewhere. I went over the entire routine in my head for when he comes from a business meeting, the events before and after.

I stood and streched ready to get started with what happens next. I went out of the room and stood face to face with my boyfriend, his face drawn with fatigue, his shirt halfway off.

"Did you have a nice day?" I asked taking up the duty of unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.

"No, I swear these elderly businessmen think I'm stupid or something, just because I took over before I graduated high school doesn't mean I don't know anything."

"The downside of being the CEO of a large, around the world company like that, especially at your age." I said undoing his tie.

"I'm only seventeen," he whispered, grabbing my hands,"and as long as I have you I'm sure I'll be fine always."

"And I'm sixteen, so what?" I smiled at him and suddenly I found his lips on mine and this is where it started. He pushed me on the couch and pinned my hands behind my back, my face pressed into the cushions. He unbuttoned my tight jeans and removed them tantalizingly slow. I knew it would be painful, it usually was in this position because it meant he couldn't wait and there would be no prep.

It wasn't comfortable in the least and it hurt even worse because he didn't give me a chance to relax, it was probably the blood the lubed anything. I didn't make any sounds and the only thing I heard was the echoing sound of slapping skin, the practical silence making everything else louder.
It went on like that until he released and even after that, I couldn't feel anything. He pulled out and bloody semen came rolling down my thighs, onto the dark couch. I waited until I heard the bedroom door close before trying to move. I stood with agonizing effort, the open wounds screaming at me with burning pain; I'm surprised I could even wobble to the bathroom the way I did.

I turned the shower on and sat watching the blood and cum run down the drain, the hot water making it sting worse.

I sat letting the scalding water run over my body, burning my skin, taking everything away, just like the high did. I still wondered everyday why I stayed, what the purpose was and then I remembered, it was pity and a feeling of repayment. His dad died 6 months ago but I had been with him 3 months before, and even though I had told myself to leave him when he began hitting me; I didn't in time. His father, the same man that disapproved our relationship from the beginning, had died from cardiac arrest while in his office. He was just broken down and it would've made me feel even more guilty if I left him in the state he was in. He tells me I'm the only thing that keeps him sane, that I'm the reason he hasn't lost it yet, how much he loves me and cares about me, how he would give me anything, and I don't believe him but the only thing that keeps me with him is I'm afraid of what he would do if I ever tried to leave. The beating and raping became harsher and more frequent since his dad died and now it was to a point where I had scars and bruises littering my entire body, and my anal tissue was probably damaged beyond repair.

I really didn't notice the water had become cold until I had begun shivering uncontrollably, and even then I didn't feel like moving. Everything seemed to fade to me, no feelings, no sadness, only me and the high I so desperately craved. If this is happiness then I'd rather die without happiness at all. It'll be better to die with the unfeeling madness that dwells within my soul...

Yeah I don't really have much to say now except "DON'T ASK" It'll get better, I promise just wait. I should have 3 chapters up by today but until then...yeah.

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