Once, my paranoid love

“Please don’t. I’m requesting you,” I stated, my voice carrying a stern resolve that I had never felt before. I had reached a turning point-a moment when I refused to be ensnared by his lies and manipulation once again.

Paul, for a change, responded with an unusual promise, “No, not this time. I promise I will treat you with care.”

But I had heard such promises before, and I knew better than to put my trust in empty words. “Why don’t you listen to me?” I spoke in a calm tone, attempting to reach whatever shred of humanity remained within him.

He placed his hand on my cheek, his touch unsettlingly possessive, and remarked, “It’s usual between a girlfriend and a boyfriend.” It was a twisted justification for his actions, an attempt to normalize the horrors he subjected me to.

Before I could respond, he began smooching me passionately, his actions a grotesque display of his power and control. I felt a mixture of revulsion and anger, but beneath it all, a determination burned within me.

“Girlfriend? So, who is Nikita, exactly?” I thought with a surge of anger, my mind reeling with the frustration and confusion that had consumed me for far too long. “Have you ever thought about how I felt when you were with Nikita? You didn’t do it.”

As I lay on his shoulder, carried along by his relentless actions, a powerful surge of anger and indignation coursed through me. I couldn’t endure this any longer.

With all the strength I could muster, I hit him on the shoulder in a desperate attempt to get his attention and break through the haze of desire and control that had clouded his judgment.

“Why? Why are you doing this, Paul?” I thought my hands were trembling with a mixture of anger and despair. “Why is it that it’s always me? You simply like me because of my body. You make me feel disgusted.”

The words poured out of me, a torrent of frustration and heartache that I had bottled up for far too long. I had finally found my voice, and I was determined to make him hear me and understand the pain he had caused.

As I thought, I bit down on his lips, my actions a rebellious act of defiance against the torment he had subjected me to.

Paul came to a sudden halt, his gaze locking onto mine when I bit his lips in a surprising act of defiance. His eyes held a mixture of surprise and desire, and the tension between us thickened with each passing moment.

“Do you want me to play hard with you, Elena?” Paul’s voice was husky with a hint of uncertainty, his question hanging in the air like a tantalizing promise.

“I don’t want it right now,” I muttered, avoiding his intense gaze as I shifted my eyes to the side. There was a weighty silence in the room, punctuated by the unspoken desires that lingered beneath the surface.

Paul, ever unpredictable, chose to change the mood abruptly. He leaned in and placed a sloppy, unexpected kiss on my belly. The sensation sent shivers through me, and I closed my eyes, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that had engulfed us.

His kiss was tender yet filled with longing, as if he were trying to convey his affection and insecurity all at once. It was clear that he still harbored doubts about the events of the previous night-a cloud of suspicion that hung between us like a shadow.

“Elena, I want a baby here,” he suddenly declared, his hand gently resting on my abdomen as if to emphasize his point.

My heart continued its erratic dance as Paul’s words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and hope. “And I’m going to marry you,” he declared with determination. “We’ll be a happy family. I’ll take you away, far from my mother.”

As he spoke of babies and a life together, I couldn’t help but laugh, though it was laced with sarcasm. “Babies?” I asked incredulously, my skepticism plain in my tone.

“Babies, yes. Babies, yours and mine,” he replied, his fingers tracing a delicate path along my cheek. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the tension that still simmered beneath the surface.

I scoffed, unable to contain my scorn. “I’ll give birth to someone else’s child, but not yours, Paul.”Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

Paul’s arched eyebrows and quizzical expression greeted my confession, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction. “What exactly do you mean? You don’t like it when I’m in your body?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

I shook my head, still smiling. “No, Paul, it’s not that. It’s just… it will irritate me.” I laughed inwardly, wondering what had given him the idea that I might enjoy having him in my shoes. “What makes you think I’d like it? Why?”

Paul’s grip on my neck tightened in an angry and strangely possessive way. He raised his voice, frustration and confusion evident. “I’m not going to let you have any men’s babies. You don’t want me to be a part of your body, why?”

I couldn’t help but smile, despite the intensity of his words and actions. Paul’s emotions were as unpredictable as ever, and his reactions never failed to surprise me.

“But I’ll delve inside your soul softly,” he replied, his words laced with a sinister promise. His obsession had taken on a disturbing and invasive quality.

“And if somebody gets in the way, I’m going to chop them down,” he declared with aggressive intensity, his gaze unwavering. “Even my mom.”

The threat hung in the air like a dark cloud, a stark reminder of the depths of his madness. I realized that there was no reasoning with him, no escape from the darkness that had consumed him.

He tore my underwear and put his immense bulge inside me after saying that.

“Ah!” I grumbled, biting my lower lip in agony.

When he began his fast pace, tears welled up in my eyes. Even the car began to bounce.

‘Why have you abandoned me, Mom? Why didn’t God take me along with you? God simply allows me to live here so that I can see how one can abuse someone who loves him.’ I thought as I squeezed my eyes.

Every inch of me was consumed by him. It was overflowing with his groans.

“Elena,” Paul murmured, his eyes closing in pleasure as he reveled in the moment.

I pressed my lips together, my heart heavy with the knowledge that I had no choice but to accept him and endure this twisted and tormenting encounter. I shifted my gaze to him, and it was impossible to miss the satisfaction etched on his face. He seemed oblivious to the turmoil within me.

As his pleasure intensified, I couldn’t help but wonder about his past and about the women who had crossed his path before me.

‘Nikita!’

‘Did you really feel the same way when you were with Nikita?’ I thought with a hint of bitterness. ‘Did you compel her the same way you compelled me?’

A smirk played at the corners of my lips as I caressed his face, masking the storm of emotions that raged within me. It was a small act of defiance, a moment of quiet rebellion against the darkness that had consumed me.

In that moment, I made a silent vow to myself, a promise that I knew I had to keep. ‘You won’t be able to find me after this night, Paul,’ I thought, with a sense of liberation. ‘I will never come to you.’

With that determination in my heart, I closed my eyes slowly, allowing a genuine smile to grace my lips. It was a bittersweet realization that I had the power to break free from this toxic relationship, to reclaim my life, and to rediscover the person I had once been before fear and pain had taken control. The path ahead was uncertain, but the glimmer of hope burned brightly within me.

“Elena,” Paul called out my name with a pleasant tone, his voice carrying a sense of closeness and affection.

As the night wrapped around us like a warm blanket, I couldn’t help but let a smile play on my lips. There was something about the way he said my name that made my heart skip a beat.

I asked, “Did you enjoy it as much with Nikita as you do with me? Have you kissed Nikita in the same way you kissed me?”

Paul slowed his pace, his eyes meeting mine as he processed my words. He took a deep breath, seemingly caught off guard by my question. Before he could say anything, I continued asking.

“Do you still believe I slept with Ron?” I asked.

Paul slowed his pace even further. There was a cascade of unspoken questions swirling in his eyes, a reflection of his inner turmoil.

I couldn’t resist the playful grin that tugged at my lips. With a mischievous twinkle in my eye, I repeated, “I’ve never kissed these lips before, right, Paul?” My fingers gently traced the contours of his lips, a teasing caress that sent a shiver down his spine.