Harry gazed at Hattie’s “broken” body, devoid of any good flesh. Her skin was very pale, and the wounds stood out prominently.
As he gently touched her, he suddenly felt a slight heat in his fingertips.
Yes, he did give Hattie a lesson, maybe even broke a finger, but he never expected to see so many wounds on her body.
These wounds didn’t have much impact, as they were not life-threatening. The only downside was that they affected the touch.
Hattie asked him if he could still lay hands on such an ugly body.
“I can’t lay hands, just maybe lay a hand.”
After saying this, Harry proceeded to tear off Hattie’s upper clothing.
Hattie probably hoped to awaken a small trace of conscience in Harry’s heart with her wounds, but conscience was something Harry had long lost.
She knew she couldn’t resist, so she stopped struggling. With someone like Harry, the more you begged, the more you aroused his cruel nature.
She remembered the first time, when Harry tied her hands with a belt and made her sleep on the bed for three days.
From the start, struggling, to insults, crying, begging, she cried out all the tears of her life, but Harry never spared her.
It was then that she realized Harry wasn’t raising her like a sister, but as a plaything, someone he could vent on anytime.
On her 18th birthday, when she matured as his plaything, he discarded her.
Hattie was not one to be obedient; her rebellious nature was inherent, engrained in her soul. Even if he broke her bones, she would never submit.
Over three days, Harry made sure Hattie couldn’t close her legs, and made her realize what she was.
As the tie loosened around her neck, Harry pushed her hands down and loosened his tie, as if he wanted to bind her hands again for a good punishment.
The collar opened wide, revealing the knife wounds inside, some still oozing with horror.
Seemingly noticing Hattie’s gaze, Harry said, “If you hadn’t hurt me back then, you wouldn’t be in prison, wouldn’t have your fingers cut off and all these wounds. Hattie, are you stupid? Inviting trouble on yourself won’t get you rid of me. It’s wishful thinking. I’m one to avenge, always giving back tenfold, a hundredfold. Stay by my side, be smarter, be obedient.”
“Obedient? Obedient to become a whore by your side? Or just a doll that spreads her legs?”
Harry tied her hands with the tie, a little impatient, saying, “The old Hattie wouldn’t curse.”
In prison, where even humanity is erased, who cares about using foul language?
Hattie’s head was turned aside, her tone cold, “Harry, I’m not the old Hattie anymore.”
“Is that so? But I still think you’re the same as before.” It’s time to savor the exquisite “dinner” in front of him, as Harry touched her lips, “Say brother to me, Hattie.”
Hattie was tough, stubborn like a bull, even in pain, “I don’t have a brother who treats me like an animal. Stop fooling yourself.”
This time, Harry didn’t hit her but squeezed her delicate neck. Why did he enjoy choking her?
The neck was the most vulnerable part; as he tightened his grip, he could feel her arteries throbbing, see her face reddening.
Another reason was more personal. Watching Hattie struggle and suffer while being choked gave Harry a sense of being valued.
Feeling a strong sense of suffocation, Hattie closed her eyes, feeling like a fish on the chopping board, waiting for the knife to fall.
Is this the end?
Hattie didn’t fear death much. She had thought about dying in prison but held back.
This time, if she died, she died; if not, she would make sure to stab Harry 30 times, aiming for his heart, or his waist if the heart was unreachable, to make him pay!
As her vision blurred, her thoughts exploded like fireworks in her mind, and just when she couldn’t catch her breath, Harry let go of her.
Gasping and coughing, even feeling nauseous, Hattie struggled to breathe.
“This is a lesson for you, remember it well. Don’t provoke me, you can’t afford the price.”
What price couldn’t she afford? She could always die.
Harry had enough play and was ready for the real thing. He couldn’t keep a person tied to the bed without using them.
Pinning down Hattie’s struggling body, his hand moved downwards, touching something… His hand froze, and he met Hattie’s cold, mocking eyes.
“You’re here…”
Hattie chuckled, “Don’t be repulsed, keep going.”
Cursing inwardly, Harry felt frustrated. He found Hattie to have some fun, but now she was pinned down, and he could only watch. What difference was there from a cooked duck flying away?
Feeling hot like a fire, Harry climbed off Hattie. “I’ll take a shower, wait for me.”
Hattie said nothing, watching Harry enter the bathroom before slowly getting off the bed, biting loose the tie with her teeth, adjusting her clothes, and running away.