The silver strands nearly rip from the roots as he shoves me toward the ground.
I don’t go down peacefully.
I have no idea what’s come over me, but the moment he clutches me, an overpowering aggressiveness floods me.
Usually, I wouldn’t want to be involved in any violent situations, or at least, I would look and see before considering any physical retaliation.
Not this time.
It could be the adrenaline or my need for survival. It could be the suppressed emotions of my helplessness. Whatever it is, I hold onto it and I claw at his fingers that are forcing me forward.
I kick and buck my whole body as an animal-like growl echoes in the air.
It’s mine, I realize as he successfully knocks me to the ground. I try to fall on my hands and knees, but I fail to release his fingers at the last second and I end up flat on my stomach.
The rough dirt smashes my breasts and whooshes the breath from my lungs. I still try to buck so I can turn over and somehow knee him in the balls.
I fight so hard that I forget this scene is my doing.
I fight so hard that I believe every molecule of survival instinct in me. Perhaps it’s because he’s using savage strength to grip me.
He’s not taking it easy.
No, he probably came here without any plans to be soft or politically correct.
He came here to invade and conquer.
This is the real thing. Him, uncut and with the sole purpose of inflicting pain.
His calm, deep breathing reverberates in the air and strikes me across the skin. His merciless grip is a promise, a preview of what he has in store for me.
The more I fight, the tighter he pulls on my hair, until I think he’ll rip it from the roots.
I arch my back, using the remnants of my energy to try and twist.
Then something heavy and unmovable lands on the middle of my back.
His knee.
I catch a glimpse of his black trousers in my peripheral vision, one knee on the ground and the other pushing against my back.
It’s enough to make me pause. The pressure is so strong that I think he’ll break a bone or a few.
Maybe I should’ve said that bodily injury is a hard limit, too, but I thought that was a given.
Perhaps it’s not.
He pins my face to the ground with his crippling grip on my hair. I smell the dirt and taste the small pebbles on my tongue.
Unlike earlier, I remain still, considering the threat of his knee.
My limbs shake as the reality of the situation rushes into me.
This is a lot more intense than what I signed up for. Yes, I wanted the possible freedom this could provide, but the unknown territory, the complete helplessness, claws at my mental strings.
My breathing shatters and each of my inhales choke me with the smell of the earth and him.
Leather.