A pungent waft of alcohol assaulted Isabellas senses, jolting her awake with a start. She looked at the intruder with a hint of trepidation.
"Edward Cullen..." A faint whisper escaped her lips, devoid of its usual warmth and tinged with worry.
"Bitch! Dont you dare say my name, it disgusts me!" Edward stormed towards her, his body swaying with each step, his anger and resentment palpable.
Isabella knew all too well that he was reminiscing about the past, ready to unleash his unbearable fury upon her once more. She curled into a ball, dreading his proximity, fearing the endless humiliation, terrified of his gaze filled with loathing.
Yet, Edward seemed to revel in her fear, finding satisfaction in her petrified state. He yanked her towards him, clamping her wrists with an iron grip.
Her delicate skin quickly bore the marks of his restraint, turning pale against the constriction, starkly visible.
"What do you want... let go of me..." Isabellas voice trembled, her body devoid of strength as she was tossed about, pleading weakly.
Edward sneered in contempt, "Isabella, how can you be so vile! Did you actually climb into my bed willingly? You want to sleep with me that badly? Fine, Ill indulge you!"
"I didnt! You have to understand, this is my home, not yours! Its certainly not your home with her!" Isabellas eyes brimmed with tears as she fought to break free from his hold, her energy waning.
"How dare you even mention her? Isabella! You of all people are the least qualified to do so."
"You have no right to speak of her!" Edwards fury knew no bounds.
"Please... dont... Ive just had surgery..."
"Beg me..." Her voice was intermittent, barely a whisper, her strength all but vanished, leaving her a mere ragdoll on the bed at his mercy.
Perhaps it was the catalyst of alcohol, but Edward became more excited, each thrust more intense, each moment more frenzied. He disregarded Isabellas bloodless lips, the tears streaming from her eyes, the despair in her once spirited gaze.
All that mattered to him was the endless torment, her suffering mirrored his own.
Finally, he spent himself, and in the same breath, released Isabella from his sadistic embrace.
"Look at the mess youve made, all this blood! Disgusting!" Edward looked at the sheets now soaked with a crimson hue, the red reflecting in his eyes, staining his pupils red.
He rose to clean himself, the sound of the shower running, accompanied by his unceasing barrage of insults, reaching Isabellas ears.
After a quick wash, Edward dressed and left without a backward glance.
The sound of the door slamming was louder than his arrival, yet Isabella could no longer hear it.
Even as she strained to open her eyes, all she saw was darkness, even as she tried to move, she remained stationary, even as she fought to stay conscious, she succumbed to oblivion.
In her final moments of consciousness, a thought flashed through her mind: To die like this, perhaps it was a form of liberation...