Not Wrong.

As she drove down the highway her mind began to wander; it was such a long drive after all and the lights that littered the highway were beginning to meld amidst the mostly unchanged scenery. She thought back over their time together.
He was so young and cheerful-looking when she had first met him. She was so naïve and optimistic.

“You have beautiful red hair,” he had said the first time they spoke and she had blushed as vibrantly as the mop atop her head. In her head she could see herself as that florid eighteen-year old girl with the cross around her neck dressed in the pale yellow dress. She still had that dress, it didn’t fit anymore, but she still kept it like she did with most things; hoarding the relics.

She remembered the first night she had ever spent with him. She had grown up believing she wouldn’t ever do that with a man unless she was married or at least older. It was one of those beliefs you accidentally have because you’ve heard it deliberately mentioned around you so often and with such demanding conviction that you’ve come to think it isn’t even up to you to question them. He had been very understanding and told her that she could come to him whenever she felt ready. They did other things instead and they immediately succeeded in rousing unprecedented desires in her. When he put his hand in her hair and pulled, the way he staked claim over her body when he kissed her, the way his teeth felt sinking into her neck, when he held her hand whispered things she daren’t say out loud… She felt like nothing else mattered.

Once she tasted that her belief was tossed out of the window faster than she cared to admit. Such is often the case with beliefs of this nature.
Only one moment stood out from that night; when she was undressing in front of him for the first time, for the first time in front of any man really, she had reached for the cross around her neck to unclasp and discard along with the clothes.
“Leave it on,” he had said.
It was the first time she had heard him speak to her in that tone; like he had decided that she was going to do as he said before he had even said it. She realized now; nothing else would have worked.

“That was wrong,” she had told him after the first time they had sex.
“But you liked it,” he said to her.
After that night she had begun to question her notions of right and wrong. The drunker she got on his sex the more she questioned all she knew to be true.  She was a smart girl even if she had been somewhat sheltered. It had only taken one statement to open her eyes to the possibility of truth.  
It’s amazing how many thoughts can flow freely once you remove the right-wrong filter from inside your head, she discovered.

Over the next year they both changed a great lot. Now that she thought about it though, she changed while he merely surfaced slowly. She began to grow alienated from her friends and her family and despite herself, she was glad for that. Now that she was morphing into a fierce individual eager to embrace her sexuality they had changed from a loving support system to a judgment-dispensation mechanism. Besides, all she wanted was him.
He made her ache for him.

She remembered the one night that she saw him after a week. He had been calling her for days taunting her with the cock that she had been missing. When she finally saw him again she had sunk down to her knees like a hungry, wanton animal within seconds.
He’d punched her in the face; she was stunned.
“Do you think that was wrong?” he had asked her.
“I don’t know,” she responded, misty-eyed.
“Let’s try again,” he said punching her in the nose this time.
This time it knocked her over and it took her a few minutes to recover from the pain that was settling in her nose.
“Do you think that was wrong?” he asked again leaning close enough to her face that the droplet of blood on her lip touched his.
“N..I don’t think..” she started to say when she felt his fist reach for her face again. Tears immediately streamed down her face as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and asked again, punctuating each word with a tug more sinister than the last, “Do you think that was wrong?”
“No,” she said crying silently.
“Good,” he said unzipping his pants and crudely thrusting his cock into her mouth, “Only an honest whore is worth cock.”
*’It wasn’t wrong,’ she had told herself later while she admired the purple hues decorating her face, ‘I liked it.’

As she stopped to get fuel for the car she noticed that it was past 4 AM; she looked around in the hope of finding some coffee even though she knew that along that highway it was highly unlikely. She figured it would be about an hour more till she got to where she was headed. She washed her face with a bottle of water she had in the car before ahe settled back down to drive. She couldn’t stop now; she wanted to get there as soon as possible.
As she sank into the driver’s seat and the thought reel began to come back.

She remembered the first time they had gone on vacation together. It had been a camping trip they had taken with a group of his friends. She wasn’t particularly outdoorsy back then but since he had said that they were going, she had felt no need to say no especially since she had had time off from work lined up anyway.

Late at night when everyone was asleep he had suggested that they talk a little walk around the woods; she was fascinated by the night-sounds that came out of the jungle and as long as she had known him he had been fascinated by the night. They had walked around the forest calmly, holding hands until all of a sudden he left her hand and leapt into one of the bushes. She begged him to come back but within a few minutes she couldn’t even see where he had leapt to. She walked forward screaming his name; she turned around each time the wind changed direction and swept her red hair into her eyes.

Finally, exasperated, she sunk down to her haunches and began to scream in frustration. As if he had been watching her with predatory precision he launched at her from behind and grasped the cross she still wore across her neck.
She screamed in sheer, utter terror as he put his hand to her mouth and grinned at her mortified face. In the rush of the moment, she crawled away from him as he grasped her ankle and pulled with inhuman force. She sniffed her around the neck and his knee pummeled into her cunt.

The next morning she told their friends that she had been silly enough to slip on some stones in the dark as they watched her terrifically bruised self emerge before them and with the same conviction she told herself, *this isn’t wrong*.

As she finally turned the corner to her destination, the events of the previous night came creeping into her head just as the sun began to rise. She had been home waiting for him to return for a few hours while she cooked their nightly meal. She had been surprised to see him come in with another man but she played the gracious hostess just as the past five years had taught her to do. They all sat together at the table as he introduced his friend to her.
While she served them drinks and filled up a glass of wine for herself she heard him tell his friend, “You’re really going to enjoy fucking her,” She stopped cold in her tracks but this time it was quickly followed by a slight smile, “Isn’t he, love?”
She looked up at them and put her hand around the cross on her neck, “You’d know that better than me.”

He laughed and leapt at her lovingly.
“But there is one thing I have to do before I give you away for him to use,” he said pulling out a scalpel from inside his pocket, “I have to mark you as mine.”
She immediately felt a rush of pride and shame wash over her. She watched him as leaned against her across the table; merely grazing her shoulder with the tip of the blade.
“You don’t think this is wrong, do you?” he asked smiling.
“I wouldn’t want to die without a few scars,” she said surprising even herself, “Would I?”

As she pulled her van into the driveway of their home she saw him standing there washing his car like he did every morning. She parked right beside him and got off.
“What took you so long?” he asked pulling her to him and growling in her ear.
“I was getting you something,” she said unable to hide the pride in her face.
“Come, look...” she said dragging him to the back of the van. He opened the door and lifted the tarpaulin that covered some sort of structure lying heaped on the floor.
“She has beautiful red hair,” he said a few moments later, surprised to see an unconscious young girl bound and draped across the floor of his wife’s car, “Where did you even find her?”
“Apparently no one ever taught her walking around on the streets by night is dangerous,” she said stroking her old silver cross that was now wrapped around the young girl’s neck.
“This is wrong,” he said grasping her hand excitedly and smirking at the same time.
“But I like it,” she said clutching his demanding fingers back.