His Captive Girlfriend

Avani’s POV:]

I didn’t sleep.

I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again.

I ran barefoot from the club, clutching the shredded pieces of my dress together with trembling fingers. The cold night air burned my lungs, but I didn’t stop until I reached the college medical wing at 3:17 a.m.

I remember the exact time because the clock on the wall mocked me while I sat there shaking, blood drying between my thighs.

The night nurse, Mrs. Rao, took one look at me and went ghost-white.

She didn’t ask stupid questions. She just locked the door, wrapped me in a coarse grey blanket that smelled like antiseptic, and whispered, “You’re safe now, beta.”

I wanted to laugh. Safe doesn’t exist in the same universe as Aryan Khanna.

They took photos.

Of the bruises blooming purple on my throat.

Of the fingerprints on my wrists and hips.

Of the blood on my inner thighs that wasn’t just from scratches.

Every flash made me flinch like they were hitting me again.

They asked if I wanted to file a police report.

I opened my mouth and nothing came out except a broken sob.

My throat was raw from screaming his name, begging him to stop, pleading like a child.

All I could whisper was, “He’ll kill me. He’ll kill my family. You don’t understand… he owns everything.”

Because everyone knows Aryan Khanna doesn’t lose.

He destroys.

Morning came too fast.

The counsellor sat across from me holding a cup of tea I couldn’t drink.

My knees were bruised black and purple. My thighs sticky no matter how many times I scrubbed in the shower until my skin bled.

Between my legs felt torn open. Every shift on the bed sent fire shooting through me.

I kept dissociating — floating above my own body, watching this broken girl who used to be me.

My phone started buzzing at 6 a.m.

Unknown numbers.

I knew who it was. I always know.

I finally opened one me ssage with shaking fingers.

Unknown:

You think running changes anything?

That tight little pussy is still mine.

I can still taste your tears on my tongue.

See you in class, babygirl.

Don’t make me come find you.

– A ♥

I threw the phone so hard it shattered against the wall.

The screen cracked like my soul.

The counsellor wanted me to go home to my parents.

I laughed until I cried, until I was choking on my own sobs.

My father owes the Khanna's forty lakh rupees.

That’s why I’m here on this cursed scholarship in the first place.

That’s why I smiled and said yes when they put me in the same building as him.

There is no home.

There is only before and after Aryan Khanna.

They discharged me at 9 a.m. with painkillers, a morning-after pill I swallowed dry, and a paper that said “sexual assault survivor” in black and white.

I pulled the hood of the borrowed oversized hoodie over my face and walked across campus like a ghost.

Everyone was staring.

The whispers followed me like smoke I couldn’t escape.

“She’s the one from Aryan’s party last night.”

“He carried her out over his shoulder.”

“I heard she was begging for it and then changed her mind.”

“Typical scholarship slut thinking she could play with the big boys.”

“Look at her walking funny… guess she finally got what she came for.”

I wanted to scream that I never wanted it.

That I said no a hundred times.

That I bled on his cock while my friends watched and did nothing until it was too late.

But my voice was gone.

Just like everything else he took.

I made it to my dorm, locked the door, triple-checked it, pushed the desk in front of it like that could stop him.

Then I curled into a ball on the floor because the bed felt too much like the leather couch in that dark room.

I must have passed out from exhaustion because when I opened my eyes again, the room was pitch black and the clock said 11:47 p.m.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Slow. Patient. Like death knocking to be let in.

My heart stopped.

A folded white paper slid under the door.

I didn’t want to read it.

I crawled on shaking hands and knees anyway.

Black ink. His handwriting. Elegant and cruel.

“You missed class today.

I don’t like being ignored, little bird.

Tomorrow you sit in the front row.

8:55 a.m. sharp.

If you’re not there, I come find you.

And this time no one will hear you scream.

This time I finish what I started.

Sweet dreams ♥

– A”

A single red rose petal was stuck to the paper with a drop of dried blood.

I stumbled to the bathroom and vomited until my stomach was empty and my throat bled.

Then I sat under the shower fully clothed until the water went cold, trying to scrub him off my skin.

But I could still feel him.

Everywhere.

I can't transfer colleges.

I can't disappear in the middle of the night.

I can swallow every pill in that bottle and never wake up.

But even as the thoughts screamed in my head, something darker twisted inside my chest.

Because underneath the terror, underneath the pain and the blood and the shame…

My body remembered how he felt.

Remembered the weight of him.

The way he growled my name like I was his entire world.

I hate him with every cell in my body.

I hate myself more for the way my thighs clench when I remember.

Tomorrow is Monday.

8:55 a.m. lecture.

I already know I’ll be there.

Sitting in the front row.

Smiling like a good little doll.

Because some part of me is already dead.

And the part that’s still breathing?

It’s starting to learn the shape of its cage.

End of chapter 2......

“She’s sitting in the front row tomorrow.

And he’s waiting.”

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To be continued......