Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

“I didn’t do it, how many times do I have to say it before you’ll believe me? I didn’t push her…” Without any evidence, Dexter always took Melody’s word as gospel. He trusted her unconditionally.

As for me? I might as well have been trash.

“Phoebe, you really deserve to die.”

The phrase he loved to throw at me was, “Phoebe, you deserve to die.”

That day, he didn’t let me off the hook. He slept with me in the club’s VIP room just to humiliate

1. me.

“Phoebe, do you have any idea how much those barflies charge for a night? Eight hundred…”

“Phoebe, you’re not even worth that much.”

“Phoebe, maybe I should’ve just let them have their way with you, huh?”

I lay on the couch numbly, feeling like my soul had been shredded to pieces.

“Dexter, please, just leave me alone…”

I couldn’t recall how long he tormented me.

Perhaps the alcohol started to wear off, he finally let go of me and straightened his clothes with a look of disgust. He was always impeccably dressed, regardless of whether my clothes had been torn to shreds.

He didn’t spare me another glance as if disgusted that he’d lost control and touched something as filthy as me while drunk.

“Dexter, don’t leave me behind. Please.” I begged him.

He turned and slammed the door behind him, not caring about the mess he’d left me in.

I felt like a rag that was crumpled on the floor and slowly getting up. Stepping on broken glass, the pain and the sight of blood snapped me back to reality.

Numbly, I dressed in what was left of my shirt, hugging the tattered fabric to my body as I stumbled out.

Outside the club, the rain poured down, and Dexter was nowhere in sight.

“New girl, huh? How much for the night? You look like you’ve been through the wringer,” the waiter asked about my price per night with a sneer as he bumped into me.

I didn’t respond, just ran out in panic.

The waiter blocked my way, his words laced with mockery. “Why run? Playing the innocent? After being used like that by a rich guy, you’re not going to shy away from me, are you?”

I was terrified. I backed away and muttered, “Don’t touch me. I’ll call the cops…”

He laughed derisively. “The streets are full of drunks. You think you’ll still be back home in one piece if you go out like that? You might as well let me have a turn.”

The drunks were everywhere outside. How could they possibly let me go? Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

Dexter knew it was dangerous to leave me alone, but he walked away without looking back.

“Get away from me!” I pushed the waiter, tears streaming down my face as I ran outside.

He was right. No sooner had I left the club than I was cornered in an alley.

Shaking. I dialed for the police, crying as I waited for the moment of rescue and that’s when I sobered up completely.

I didn’t love him anymore.

I had to survive.

I had to escape as far away as possible.

“Don’t touch me, please don’t touch me.” I begged, but they wouldn’t let go.

When their hands roamed over me, I felt sick to my stomach and was unable to control the revulsion.

“She’s pretty, hurry up. Let me have a turn after you’re done.”

“Can you even handle it?”

I collapsed to the ground, drained of energy from the crying and the foul language.

In the end, I had no strength left to fight.

I thought that was the day I would be violated by them in turns.

But as my consciousness began to blur, a tall, indistinct figure emerged. The figure was wielding a steel pipe, swinging it hard against the head of a man who touched me.

Screams echoed through the alley.

“Stop hitting us…” The men who had been harassing me were begging for mercy.

But the figure had no intention of letting them off easy.

With a chilling scream, the shadow struck a man’s wrist with the pipe, “Touch her, and you’ll pay with your life…”