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body div#devskin0 hr { }

The journey home proved to be uneventful, not that that was anything new. The traffic proved to be virtually nonexistent at this time of day. The usual rush that she would otherwise have found herself trapped in had she left work on time had long since vanished by now. A lot could happen in two hours, as it would seem. The difference that was made on the traffic alone, almost made her want to consider staying late at work more often. Almost, being the key word there. As nice as shaving twenty minutes off of the hour long ride was, changing her work schedule would not be a worthwhile choice. Saving an extra twenty minutes on the way home was far from worth the emotional turmoil she would experience as she left for work each night. The paranoia from today was something rare for her to deal with. To be forced to put up with it six days out of the week, would be hell, to put it bluntly.

In addition to that, simply making a move to change her schedule would be hell in its own right. There was no doubt in her mind that her partner would be far from thrilled with tonight’s tardiness. He being the type of man who felt that women existed to serve their men. His overall thought process being that he deserved a freshly cooked meal every night when he came home, and that she was the one who was supposed to provide him with that. Their relationship was a rare one, for this day and age. To call it an abusive relationship, would be a fair statement. That being because it was. This, however, was not what made the behavior so unique. What made it unique, was the fact that she was perfectly aware of the abuse. To be more precise, she had been aware of it from the start. There was no emotional manipulation which could trick her into believing that her partner genuinely loved her.

The fact being that she had taken note of these tell-tale signs of abuse almost as soon as they had started to appear. So the distinct differences between her, and the other women trapped in abusive relationships, were simple. The most obvious of them being that, she was not trapped. Instead, she had made the seemingly foolhardy choice of staying with the man which would leave her bruised whenever she did not abide by his law. Albeit there was, more to this idiotic behavior that would reach the eye. When she had signed that contract and accepted the job as a facility Guard, she had signed away some of her more basic human rights. Freedom of speech being one of them, seeing as she could no longer freely discuss anything about her work with any sort of companion she might have. If they were not already associated with her workplace, then she had little choice but to lie whenever questioned about her place of employment.

What she had not initially realized, however, was that she had given up a few other rights. The most unexpected of which, being her ability to date as she saw fit. The basis of this being that she was not allowed to enter a romantic relationship with anyone outside of her workforce. This meaning that, unless her desired partner also happened to be a coworker, she was not allowed to enter a relationship with them. A slight scoff escaped her as her destination finally came into her line of sight. There was a lie to that last thought process. She was not limited only to her coworkers. In all technicality, she was free to pursue intimate relationships with her Subjects if she had the desire to do so. The essence of this dark reality being that, not only were relationships between coworkers greatly encouraged in the contract, it was also encouraged to try and get sexual with the inmates that were under your care.

Really, it was the fault of her contract which had brought on her unusual patience with abuse. When the only options laid before you happen to be trying to get intimate with monsters, and getting intimate with the inmates, neither path was ideal. The fact being that she willingly remained with her abusive partner, simply because that was the option that brought less of a chance of death. He could hit her all that he wanted. Technically she was allowed to beat the living daylights out of him as well, thanks to the equal opportunity clause that was so conveniently located in her contract. As long as the assault did not reach a point where it could be considered attempted murder, the managers would feel no need to get involved. She knew it. Her partner knew it. If he attempted to kill her for any reason, then it would cost him his life. Apparently, even the people who had designed the contract had a sense of morals.

The line was drawn at attempted murder. Regardless of the reason or the relationship between the afflicted parties, in the event of one employee attempting to kill a coworker, then the consequence was death. Naturally this punishment also applied in the event of successful murder. So regardless of what might happen to her, if her partner ever dared to cross the line, it would cost him his life. That knowledge was what gave her the willpower to remain by his side. Their relationship being one that was not founded on any real sense of loyalty, but on twisted desires. Hers being that, she wanted to at least pretend that she had a normal life. He, on the other hand, just wanted to have a woman to dominate. The unfortunate mix of this being that, her normal home life happened to be on the negative side of the spectrum. How sad it is that abuse is so common in a relationship, that most people are almost guaranteed to experience it at some point.

Pulling into the lot, the woman began to brace herself for the drama which was to come. Chances were that there would be a mild scuffle as a result of her tardiness. She had made a personal guessing game of situations such as this. Her damaged mind somehow finding amusement in her ability to guess how her partner would respond to things which set him off. Tonight, she was two hours late. He had either sucked up his pride to make himself something to eat, or he had remained strict to his morals and opted to wait for her to get home. Based on past endeavors, she knew that he was most prone to violence on an empty stomach. So if he had refused to make himself something to satisfy his hunger, then she could expect to be smacked a few times. If he had eaten, then chances were that he would only push her around a little. Best case scenario, her back would be re-acquainting itself with one of the doors.

Well, one of the doors and its knob. She had long since learned that her mate held a surprisingly accurate amount of aim when it came to forcing her frame against a solid surface. The morbid question which came with this knowledge. Which would she prefer; to be slammed into the door, or against the counter? That answer, after only a few seconds of contemplation, was the door. As much as it would hurt to have her back forced against the doorknob, it would do her less damage than the other option. What was a bruise in comparison to a bleeding wound? Considering that she had already experienced both forms of assault during her time with this man, she knew firsthand which injury would prove to be more of a hassle. Coming to a stop and parking her vehicle, the woman took her time with making her way inside. She made sure that her vehicle was secure, well aware of the fact that thieves were in this area.

As if hoping to appeal to the better nature of her partner, she took a few moments to correct her appearance. She ran her fingers through her hair, doing what she could to breathe a bit of volume back into it. Once she was fairly satisfied with the neatness of her appearance, she exited her vehicle, making sure to lock it before she started for the stairs. She and her mate resided within the confines of an apartment complex, for a multitude of reasons. The first of them being that the apartments were much closer to their place of employment than any house that they might consider moving into. The other reasons behind their unusual place of residence being that apartments were usually much smaller than most houses, and were therefor much easier to maintain. Her partners high standards would prevent her from getting any sort of rest should they move into a more appropriately sized home.

They lived on the third floor. This resulting in her making her way up three flights of stairs. She would count herself lucky that she was not required to wear heels. That particular form of shoe-wear being something that was considered a safety hazard, considering her line of work. The fact that her mate happened to view them as an indication of being a slutty, and therefor disloyal woman, was only a bonus. So there were no arguments from anyone, when she wore her dress shoes. The only real dispute over the footwear having come in the past, when her partner discovered that she had decided to wear mens dress shoes. A faint smile tugged her lips at the memory of this. That had been one of the arguments that she had won. Her victory statement being that most dress shoes designed for women, resembled heels, and would therefor make her more sexually appealing to other men.

Her mate, being the possessive type, had immediately praised her for making sure that she could remain loyal to him. For surely if she were to dress like a slut, the other men at work would attempt to claim her. She, being weaker in his eyes, would not be able to resist the approach of another man. So the basis of her argument was that, if she did not appeal to the eyes of other men, then none would appear to try and steal her. That had shut him up rather easily. He had even rewarded her for her obedience. They had gone out to eat every night that week, and as such she had not been forced to cook for him when she came home. Finally coming to stand in front of her destination, she decided to knock on the door rather than let herself in. Such was just another means at attempting to appeal to the better nature of her partner. He wanted her to remain submissive to him. She, however, was prone to being defiant.

That was what triggered most of the assaults. Tonight, she would rather avoid a brutal beating. So she would pretend to be his obedient little pet and submit to him in hopes of avoiding his fists. She could handle being shoved against the wall. Regardless of what she did, that was the one thing that she knew she could not avoid. Being punched in the stomach, however, was something entirely avoidable, and she would do everything in her power to do so. After a minute or so of waiting, the door was pulled open. She was not surprised to see the aggravated expression which sat upon her partner’s face. Nor was she entirely caught off guard, when he reached out to roughly grab her by the front of her uniform and yank her inside. As soon as the door closed behind her, her body was roughly shoved against it. She was forced to bite her lip in order to repress the whine which sought to escape her.

She was going to be left with a serious bruise after this. She small of her back had been thrust roughly against the doorknob. To be honest, she would not be surprised if the lock had somehow broken her skin. The small little arch of metal which protruded from the knob could be used like a dull knife at times like this. She only continued to hold her tongue as the pain began to rush throughout her back. The intense ache seeming to radiate from every muscle on her right side. To the point that every time she took a breath, she would experience a sharp surge of pain.

“Where the fuck’ve you been, (Y/N)?!” The enraged voice of her parter met her ears before to long. This particular vocalization being something that she had so often in the past, that she had memorized it by now. To the point that she was confident in the fact that she would be able to pinpoint his voice in a crowd, regardless of how loud he was actually being. Opting to remain silent for a moment, she remained submissive in his hold. All the while her eyes would shift ever so slightly, for the sake of taking in the details of her environment. One of the first things which she was able to spot, being a soiled plate, which resided on the counter. She could see the remnants of bread on it. There was a small piece of crust resting atop the china. A clear indication of the fact that her partner had given in to his hunger, and made himself a meal whilst he waited for her to return.

That fact alone meant that she had a good chance of avoiding a more serious confrontation with him. The only real issue with that being that she would need to pick her words very carefully. One wrong phrase was all it would take for her to wind up needing to apply heavy amounts of makeup come morning. Shifting a bit, she carefully worked her body so as to move away from the doorknob. The action only resulted in her being given another rough shove. Thankfully, there was no real pain this time. The only real form of discomfort coming from how easily the air rushed out of her lungs as her back came into contact with the frame of the door. There was more of a struggle in getting the air back into her lungs than she would have preferred. Albeit, given the circumstances, she was in no place to offer a complaint. Instead, she would need to bide her time. Try to find some leverage, and hopefully coax her way out of his grasp.

“I got held up at work, love. They gave me extra paperwork to fill out today.” Her first means of escape was to utter the truth. This being something which was a rarely used tactic, seeing as she often had to lie for the sake of better appealing to his twisted mind. This time around, however, the truth would play to her favor. There were days where he was forced to come home late due to an abrupt increase in his paperwork. In most cases they had both completed all of their required forms long before the end of their shift. There had been times where he had abruptly been given extra paperwork as well. The overall size of the additional work being the equivalent of two-weeks worth of forms. The point being that this was not an isolated occurrence. Therefor, he would have no legitimate reason to believe that she was telling him lies. She heard the scoff which escaped him as she told him this.

“You’re supposed to call and let me know when you’re gonna be late!” He spat in response. She only scarcely succeeded in maintaining her composure as began to press his hand against her rib-cage. This being one of his more well-used means of establishing his dominance. The pressure brought on by the continuous push being something that was perfectly capable of forcing the air out of her lungs. At the same time, it would prevent her from taking in a breath. She often referred to this means of assault as the ‘snake-hold’, because of it similarities to the strangulation method used by serpents. She was unable to expand her lungs, until he stopped applying pressure. Thankfully his snake-hold would only last a few seconds. The strain from having to apply such a continuous force to her chest, being something which would make his arm tire out quickly.

“My phone died during lunch.” She managed to whisper, her voice leaving her as more of a gasp than anything else. She hated it when he restricted her oxygen supply. The struggle to breathe would inevitably make her voice crack, which would create the illusion of fear. Or rather, the illusion that he made her feel weak.
“I tried to call you, but my phone crashed before I could leave a message.” She added, watching as he cast her a particularly dirty look. At least this time her voice did not waver. She could at least be happy about how short lived the effects of his vascular assaults were. Forced to release her for the sake of checking the validity of her statements, he pulled his phone from his pocket. A simple press of a button resulted in his screen lighting up; but she had no means of seeing for herself whether or not there were any notifications.

“Doesn’t say I have any missed calls.” Her partner commented, turning the phone around so that she could have a look at the screen. Sure enough, there were no alerts present.
“Guess you’d better fess up.” He stated, sounding a little to pleased with the fact that he seemed to have caught her in the midst of a lie. To say that this had not surprised her, would have been a lie. She had, in fact, attempted to call him during her lunch break. By all means of logic, there should have been some message to validate her statement. Of all the times for her to wind up in a situation where it looked like she was about to be beaten, it had to be one of the few times where she had been telling the truth. Perhaps this was Karma’s means of punishing her for her lies. Clearly the laws of balance were unwilling to side with those whom lied for the sake of self-defense.

“Check again.” She requested. Albeit the phrase was more of a demand than a request. This time, her voice had cracked for reasons other than the lack of the ability to breath. Her mind simply could not accept that there was no proof to back up her story. If there was no proof, then there was no basis of escape. She, like any other person, would experience some sort of panic when there was a very real threat of serious bodily harm. While she did not fear him in the slightest, pain was another monster in its own right. One which there was absolutely no means of escaping. To fail at evading his wrath would be a failure at self-preservation. Any able minded person would hold a similar level of panic, were they in her place. All she could do now, was hope to find some sort of a loop hole.

“I already check it, doll. There’s no message.” He retorted, pressing that little button so that he could make his screen light up once more. Again, he showed his phone to her. This being his means of re-establishing the fact that there were no alerts to be found. She only took a second to stare at the screen before an additional demand could make its way into her head.

“Unlock it.” She stated, earning an annoyed look from the man. He raised his eyebrows and flashed her an odd look. One which was easily recognizable as the expression made by someone who had just answered a question, only for that same inquiry to be uttered. Expecting to be giving her the same answer for what would technically be the third time, the male proceeded to unlock his phone. He slid his finger across the screen once to activate the lock-pad, and then moved his finger in a specific pattern to unlock it. This essentially granted him access to the entirety of his phone, which would allow them to see his applications. She heard a soft sigh escape him as he examined his screen, her anxiety only growing as his eyes moved to linger on her frame. She remained silent, unsure of what she could say or do for the sake of protecting herself. He remained incredibly quiet.

Quiet to the point that she nearly flinched as he turned his phone around once again, so that she could see his screen.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

The journey home proved to be uneventful, not that that was anything new. The traffic proved to be virtually nonexistent at this time of day. The usual rush that she would otherwise have found herself trapped in had she left work on time had long since vanished by now. A lot could happen in two hours, as it would seem. The difference that was made on the traffic alone, almost made her want to consider staying late at work more often. Almost, being the key word there. As nice as shaving twenty minutes off of the hour long ride was, changing her work schedule would not be a worthwhile choice. Saving an extra twenty minutes on the way home was far from worth the emotional turmoil she would experience as she left for work each night. The paranoia from today was something rare for her to deal with. To be forced to put up with it six days out of the week, would be hell, to put it bluntly.

In addition to that, simply making a move to change her schedule would be hell in its own right. There was no doubt in her mind that her partner would be far from thrilled with tonight’s tardiness. He being the type of man who felt that women existed to serve their men. His overall thought process being that he deserved a freshly cooked meal every night when he came home, and that she was the one who was supposed to provide him with that. Their relationship was a rare one, for this day and age. To call it an abusive relationship, would be a fair statement. That being because it was. This, however, was not what made the behavior so unique. What made it unique, was the fact that she was perfectly aware of the abuse. To be more precise, she had been aware of it from the start. There was no emotional manipulation which could trick her into believing that her partner genuinely loved her.

The fact being that she had taken note of these tell-tale signs of abuse almost as soon as they had started to appear. So the distinct differences between her, and the other women trapped in abusive relationships, were simple. The most obvious of them being that, she was not trapped. Instead, she had made the seemingly foolhardy choice of staying with the man which would leave her bruised whenever she did not abide by his law. Albeit there was, more to this idiotic behavior that would reach the eye. When she had signed that contract and accepted the job as a facility Guard, she had signed away some of her more basic human rights. Freedom of speech being one of them, seeing as she could no longer freely discuss anything about her work with any sort of companion she might have. If they were not already associated with her workplace, then she had little choice but to lie whenever questioned about her place of employment.

What she had not initially realized, however, was that she had given up a few other rights. The most unexpected of which, being her ability to date as she saw fit. The basis of this being that she was not allowed to enter a romantic relationship with anyone outside of her workforce. This meaning that, unless her desired partner also happened to be a coworker, she was not allowed to enter a relationship with them. A slight scoff escaped her as her destination finally came into her line of sight. There was a lie to that last thought process. She was not limited only to her coworkers. In all technicality, she was free to pursue intimate relationships with her Subjects if she had the desire to do so. The essence of this dark reality being that, not only were relationships between coworkers greatly encouraged in the contract, it was also encouraged to try and get sexual with the inmates that were under your care.

Really, it was the fault of her contract which had brought on her unusual patience with abuse. When the only options laid before you happen to be trying to get intimate with monsters, and getting intimate with the inmates, neither path was ideal. The fact being that she willingly remained with her abusive partner, simply because that was the option that brought less of a chance of death. He could hit her all that he wanted. Technically she was allowed to beat the living daylights out of him as well, thanks to the equal opportunity clause that was so conveniently located in her contract. As long as the assault did not reach a point where it could be considered attempted murder, the managers would feel no need to get involved. She knew it. Her partner knew it. If he attempted to kill her for any reason, then it would cost him his life. Apparently, even the people who had designed the contract had a sense of morals.

The line was drawn at attempted murder. Regardless of the reason or the relationship between the afflicted parties, in the event of one employee attempting to kill a coworker, then the consequence was death. Naturally this punishment also applied in the event of successful murder. So regardless of what might happen to her, if her partner ever dared to cross the line, it would cost him his life. That knowledge was what gave her the willpower to remain by his side. Their relationship being one that was not founded on any real sense of loyalty, but on twisted desires. Hers being that, she wanted to at least pretend that she had a normal life. He, on the other hand, just wanted to have a woman to dominate. The unfortunate mix of this being that, her normal home life happened to be on the negative side of the spectrum. How sad it is that abuse is so common in a relationship, that most people are almost guaranteed to experience it at some point.

Pulling into the lot, the woman began to brace herself for the drama which was to come. Chances were that there would be a mild scuffle as a result of her tardiness. She had made a personal guessing game of situations such as this. Her damaged mind somehow finding amusement in her ability to guess how her partner would respond to things which set him off. Tonight, she was two hours late. He had either sucked up his pride to make himself something to eat, or he had remained strict to his morals and opted to wait for her to get home. Based on past endeavors, she knew that he was most prone to violence on an empty stomach. So if he had refused to make himself something to satisfy his hunger, then she could expect to be smacked a few times. If he had eaten, then chances were that he would only push her around a little. Best case scenario, her back would be re-acquainting itself with one of the doors.

Well, one of the doors and its knob. She had long since learned that her mate held a surprisingly accurate amount of aim when it came to forcing her frame against a solid surface. The morbid question which came with this knowledge. Which would she prefer; to be slammed into the door, or against the counter? That answer, after only a few seconds of contemplation, was the door. As much as it would hurt to have her back forced against the doorknob, it would do her less damage than the other option. What was a bruise in comparison to a bleeding wound? Considering that she had already experienced both forms of assault during her time with this man, she knew firsthand which injury would prove to be more of a hassle. Coming to a stop and parking her vehicle, the woman took her time with making her way inside. She made sure that her vehicle was secure, well aware of the fact that thieves were in this area.

As if hoping to appeal to the better nature of her partner, she took a few moments to correct her appearance. She ran her fingers through her hair, doing what she could to breathe a bit of volume back into it. Once she was fairly satisfied with the neatness of her appearance, she exited her vehicle, making sure to lock it before she started for the stairs. She and her mate resided within the confines of an apartment complex, for a multitude of reasons. The first of them being that the apartments were much closer to their place of employment than any house that they might consider moving into. The other reasons behind their unusual place of residence being that apartments were usually much smaller than most houses, and were therefor much easier to maintain. Her partners high standards would prevent her from getting any sort of rest should they move into a more appropriately sized home.

They lived on the third floor. This resulting in her making her way up three flights of stairs. She would count herself lucky that she was not required to wear heels. That particular form of shoe-wear being something that was considered a safety hazard, considering her line of work. The fact that her mate happened to view them as an indication of being a slutty, and therefor disloyal woman, was only a bonus. So there were no arguments from anyone, when she wore her dress shoes. The only real dispute over the footwear having come in the past, when her partner discovered that she had decided to wear mens dress shoes. A faint smile tugged her lips at the memory of this. That had been one of the arguments that she had won. Her victory statement being that most dress shoes designed for women, resembled heels, and would therefor make her more sexually appealing to other men.

Her mate, being the possessive type, had immediately praised her for making sure that she could remain loyal to him. For surely if she were to dress like a slut, the other men at work would attempt to claim her. She, being weaker in his eyes, would not be able to resist the approach of another man. So the basis of her argument was that, if she did not appeal to the eyes of other men, then none would appear to try and steal her. That had shut him up rather easily. He had even rewarded her for her obedience. They had gone out to eat every night that week, and as such she had not been forced to cook for him when she came home. Finally coming to stand in front of her destination, she decided to knock on the door rather than let herself in. Such was just another means at attempting to appeal to the better nature of her partner. He wanted her to remain submissive to him. She, however, was prone to being defiant.

That was what triggered most of the assaults. Tonight, she would rather avoid a brutal beating. So she would pretend to be his obedient little pet and submit to him in hopes of avoiding his fists. She could handle being shoved against the wall. Regardless of what she did, that was the one thing that she knew she could not avoid. Being punched in the stomach, however, was something entirely avoidable, and she would do everything in her power to do so. After a minute or so of waiting, the door was pulled open. She was not surprised to see the aggravated expression which sat upon her partner’s face. Nor was she entirely caught off guard, when he reached out to roughly grab her by the front of her uniform and yank her inside. As soon as the door closed behind her, her body was roughly shoved against it. She was forced to bite her lip in order to repress the whine which sought to escape her.

She was going to be left with a serious bruise after this. She small of her back had been thrust roughly against the doorknob. To be honest, she would not be surprised if the lock had somehow broken her skin. The small little arch of metal which protruded from the knob could be used like a dull knife at times like this. She only continued to hold her tongue as the pain began to rush throughout her back. The intense ache seeming to radiate from every muscle on her right side. To the point that every time she took a breath, she would experience a sharp surge of pain.

“Where the fuck’ve you been, (Y/N)?!” The enraged voice of her parter met her ears before to long. This particular vocalization being something that she had so often in the past, that she had memorized it by now. To the point that she was confident in the fact that she would be able to pinpoint his voice in a crowd, regardless of how loud he was actually being. Opting to remain silent for a moment, she remained submissive in his hold. All the while her eyes would shift ever so slightly, for the sake of taking in the details of her environment. One of the first things which she was able to spot, being a soiled plate, which resided on the counter. She could see the remnants of bread on it. There was a small piece of crust resting atop the china. A clear indication of the fact that her partner had given in to his hunger, and made himself a meal whilst he waited for her to return.

That fact alone meant that she had a good chance of avoiding a more serious confrontation with him. The only real issue with that being that she would need to pick her words very carefully. One wrong phrase was all it would take for her to wind up needing to apply heavy amounts of makeup come morning. Shifting a bit, she carefully worked her body so as to move away from the doorknob. The action only resulted in her being given another rough shove. Thankfully, there was no real pain this time. The only real form of discomfort coming from how easily the air rushed out of her lungs as her back came into contact with the frame of the door. There was more of a struggle in getting the air back into her lungs than she would have preferred. Albeit, given the circumstances, she was in no place to offer a complaint. Instead, she would need to bide her time. Try to find some leverage, and hopefully coax her way out of his grasp.

“I got held up at work, love. They gave me extra paperwork to fill out today.” Her first means of escape was to utter the truth. This being something which was a rarely used tactic, seeing as she often had to lie for the sake of better appealing to his twisted mind. This time around, however, the truth would play to her favor. There were days where he was forced to come home late due to an abrupt increase in his paperwork. In most cases they had both completed all of their required forms long before the end of their shift. There had been times where he had abruptly been given extra paperwork as well. The overall size of the additional work being the equivalent of two-weeks worth of forms. The point being that this was not an isolated occurrence. Therefor, he would have no legitimate reason to believe that she was telling him lies. She heard the scoff which escaped him as she told him this.

“You’re supposed to call and let me know when you’re gonna be late!” He spat in response. She only scarcely succeeded in maintaining her composure as began to press his hand against her rib-cage. This being one of his more well-used means of establishing his dominance. The pressure brought on by the continuous push being something that was perfectly capable of forcing the air out of her lungs. At the same time, it would prevent her from taking in a breath. She often referred to this means of assault as the ‘snake-hold’, because of it similarities to the strangulation method used by serpents. She was unable to expand her lungs, until he stopped applying pressure. Thankfully his snake-hold would only last a few seconds. The strain from having to apply such a continuous force to her chest, being something which would make his arm tire out quickly.

“My phone died during lunch.” She managed to whisper, her voice leaving her as more of a gasp than anything else. She hated it when he restricted her oxygen supply. The struggle to breathe would inevitably make her voice crack, which would create the illusion of fear. Or rather, the illusion that he made her feel weak.
“I tried to call you, but my phone crashed before I could leave a message.” She added, watching as he cast her a particularly dirty look. At least this time her voice did not waver. She could at least be happy about how short lived the effects of his vascular assaults were. Forced to release her for the sake of checking the validity of her statements, he pulled his phone from his pocket. A simple press of a button resulted in his screen lighting up; but she had no means of seeing for herself whether or not there were any notifications.

“Doesn’t say I have any missed calls.” Her partner commented, turning the phone around so that she could have a look at the screen. Sure enough, there were no alerts present.
“Guess you’d better fess up.” He stated, sounding a little to pleased with the fact that he seemed to have caught her in the midst of a lie. To say that this had not surprised her, would have been a lie. She had, in fact, attempted to call him during her lunch break. By all means of logic, there should have been some message to validate her statement. Of all the times for her to wind up in a situation where it looked like she was about to be beaten, it had to be one of the few times where she had been telling the truth. Perhaps this was Karma’s means of punishing her for her lies. Clearly the laws of balance were unwilling to side with those whom lied for the sake of self-defense.

“Check again.” She requested. Albeit the phrase was more of a demand than a request. This time, her voice had cracked for reasons other than the lack of the ability to breath. Her mind simply could not accept that there was no proof to back up her story. If there was no proof, then there was no basis of escape. She, like any other person, would experience some sort of panic when there was a very real threat of serious bodily harm. While she did not fear him in the slightest, pain was another monster in its own right. One which there was absolutely no means of escaping. To fail at evading his wrath would be a failure at self-preservation. Any able minded person would hold a similar level of panic, were they in her place. All she could do now, was hope to find some sort of a loop hole.

“I already check it, doll. There’s no message.” He retorted, pressing that little button so that he could make his screen light up once more. Again, he showed his phone to her. This being his means of re-establishing the fact that there were no alerts to be found. She only took a second to stare at the screen before an additional demand could make its way into her head.

“Unlock it.” She stated, earning an annoyed look from the man. He raised his eyebrows and flashed her an odd look. One which was easily recognizable as the expression made by someone who had just answered a question, only for that same inquiry to be uttered. Expecting to be giving her the same answer for what would technically be the third time, the male proceeded to unlock his phone. He slid his finger across the screen once to activate the lock-pad, and then moved his finger in a specific pattern to unlock it. This essentially granted him access to the entirety of his phone, which would allow them to see his applications. She heard a soft sigh escape him as he examined his screen, her anxiety only growing as his eyes moved to linger on her frame. She remained silent, unsure of what she could say or do for the sake of protecting herself. He remained incredibly quiet.

Quiet to the point that she nearly flinched as he turned his phone around once again, so that she could see his screen.