“YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!” He bellowed out, abandoning the free‐hanging shower head for a moment as he grabbed her against him, using her words as an excuse to lash out. He wasn’t angry, it took quite a bit to actually fire Mason up into a blind rage, and in the past that was what he had been, a blind raging animal who often got the shit kicked out of him due to his inability to carefully weigh every situation and every outcome before it made due love with fate. But now he wasn’t blind. Nor was he raging. He was simply of clarity, and wanted her to think he acted out in anger. It was all part of a plan, a plan he liked to call improvising. He wanted the walls to tremble with his reverberated voice, the tone and the way it pulsed through him like that of a volcano erupting, wanting to make her quake.
With his hand wound into that twist and mess of hair, like tendrils wrapping themselves around his fingers trying to pry it apart; but all it could do was so lifelessly bend under his will. With that hand, he pulled her full force downwards and slammed her head down against the edge of the tub with all his might. What would become of it he did not care; whether blood trickled downward or whether she was knocked unconscious in one blow. All that mattered was that her futile struggles would end, that her mouth would stay shut. A sloshing of his foot as he moved clumsily in the tub, his hand maintaining its wound up grip into her wet locks. With a splash of his foot, he stepped outside the tub, his other leg soon to follow. Up he pulled her to follow his movements unwillingly, the squelching of his boots and his drenched jeans leaving puddles on the floor for both of them to slip on. But he was careful of this, best as he could be whilst he dragged her along with him. If he were to lose his footing then he was to be at a disadvantage, and he couldn’t have that.
If this were a movie being played out for vicarious individuals to consume what was about to unfold heartlessly, one would have expected for Mason to leave the bathroom. With the way he was pulling and yanking her along, her hair acting as a makeshift leash, it would seem he would have had a purpose elsewhere; but no. With a kick of his foot he turned the handle of the water back on, pushing her struggling head back underwater of the tub, this time having her stomach being balanced as though she were planking on the edge of it, that abdomen pressing itself into the tub’s edge. And her behind? It was to be glorious. Like an animal in the wild mounting another, just as it was supposed to be done, with the female submissively accepting penetration. A rough hand wrapped itself eagerly about one thigh, while the other continued to push her head down. If necessary, he was going to slam that head of hers in again. He wanted her practically lifeless, and he wanted her to drown in her own pleasure. Quite literally.
She wished that his voice had frightened her, had made her feel something. Instead, the only emotion flooding her body was dread. There were only so many ways that a scenario such as this was going to play out, none of them ending well for her. His body pulsed as he yelled, reverberating into Avery’s thin frame. A chill swept through her despite the warmth that the bath had created, although a certain heat that had nothing to do with temperature was being exuded from Mason’s body. Pain shot through her body as he twisted his fingers into her hair, pulling as hard as he could. Avery bit her lip to keep from yelling out, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his plan was succeeding. She had one thought in her mind, 'I hope he doesn't do too much damage. Audrey will never let me work a shift with a face that's all purple and swollen up with bruises.'
The room began to swim a bit, a loud thud echoing as her head slammed into the porcelain of the old bathtub. The tell-tale warmth sliding from her forehead indicated that there was now a gash there, one that would more than likely require stitches. Unluckily, she remained conscious and knew that he would leave her awake to experience every bit of what he was about to do. She stumbled for a second, trying to regain her balance before her head was shoved under the water. Avery had been terrified of the water as a child, and could barely swim enough to save her life; the same panic she used to feel when confronted with water quickly spread through her bloodstream like a fire through the woods. She swung her hands wildly behind her, grasping for anything to hold on to that would get his body away from hers. The precarious position that he had her sitting in had her feeling nothing good about what was to come. Bubbles rose from under the water as she began to run out of oxygen, her lungs feeling as though they were on fire.
Avery coughed and sputtered as her head was lifted from the water for a brief moment, inhaling as much oxygen as she could. “Mase….Mason, please….Don’t do this.”, her meek voice begged, hoping that there was still something in his head that would stop him. “I’ll do…whatever you want. Just, please…” His body remained behind hers, keeping her body trapped against the cold of the tile floor, unable to do anything but panic, and plead for her life.