I’m the heroine of a dark, twisted romance. In the dim light of a narrow alleyway, a group of homeless men fastened their belts and walked away, satisfied. I lay there, like a discarded, soulless doll, the scene making it painfully clear what had just happened. Next, according to the script, the male lead should appear and take me away. I was supposed to be ashamed, weak, and view him as my saviour. He said we were brought together by those homeless men, that they’d been instrumental in our “fate.” He even rewarded them, giving them jobs that made them rich. But after I was reborn, I stared at those repulsive faces and pulled a leather belt from my pocket. The belt wasn’t just thick layers of leather—it had a steel plate hidden inside, making it brutally powerful. How could these animals deserve a happy life? The air was thick and sticky with dampness. It was one in the morning—no one would walk through this dark, unlit alleyway. I lay on the ground, my clothes in tatters, and I could still hear the men’s angry shouts fading away. Tears of despair slipped down my cheeks. I’d been too late. Just a little more, and I might have escaped all of this. It wasn’t until the moment of my death in my past life that I truly woke up. I was the heroine of a twisted, dark romance. When I was 18, walking home from school, I was assaulted by a group of homeless men. I felt humiliated, furious, but the sounds coming from my mouth were disgusting—like I wasn’t even resisting. Later, a man appeared at the mouth of the alley. He draped a coat over me, covering my shame. His name was Gareth Thompson, and he became my husband. He didn’t care about my “broken” body. In fact, he was obsessed with it. I was insecure and weak. Over time, I found myself in the beds of many other men, though I didn’t understand why. I felt guilty. I worshipped Gareth, agreeing to everything he said—even when he gave the men who had attacked me great jobs, helping them get rich. He told me if it weren’t for those men, we wouldn’t have been brought together. But just before I died, I finally understood the truth. Gareth had been watching me from the start. Those men were his doing. He had arranged the attack so he could rescue me, pull me from hell, and make me worship him. That way, I’d be completely devoted to him. As for why I ended up in the beds of strangers? Gareth had arranged that, too. He gave me away to his business partners and rivals in exchange for deals. He didn’t care about my affairs with other men. In fact, he enjoyed it. Watching me with them made him feel… excited. I’d been deceived my entire life, unable to muster even a shred of will for myself. I was nothing more than an object, a toy, a pet, something to be used, but never a person. I was just a tool for men to take out their lust on. And my death? It came from a heart attack, induced by an overdose of drugs. I didn’t live to see thirty. By the time I died, I was skin and bones, unrecognizable. This wasn’t just a twisted romance—it was pure cruelty. Thank God I got another chance at life. But I was still too late.
When I realised I’d been reborn, the same group of men had just pinned me to the ground. I struggled desperately, my mind screaming at me to run. If only I could escape this alley, none of it would happen. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t control my body. It felt like an invisible hand was crushing my heart. Those disgusting sounds, the stench, it all made me sick as I went through the assault again, fully conscious this time. But my mind was firm. If fate had given me a second chance, it wasn’t so I could die again. I just needed to survive this moment. Everything could change after that. I don’t know how long it took before they were done. Just like before, they buckled their belts and walked away. Finally, I could move again, the force controlling me was gone. I regained control of my body. This time, I didn’t lie there in despair, helplessly crying like before. Using all my strength, I picked myself up, dressed in my torn clothes, and ran towards the alley’s entrance. Gareth was waiting there, just like in my past life. He reached out a hand, looking at me with that same concerned expression as before. He looked like a saint, full of pity, as though he were looking down on a worshipper. He was waiting for me to beg him for help. I lowered my head and murmured, “Excuse me, sir. Did you see the men who just assaulted me?” Gareth’s flawless expression cracked. “What? What do you mean?” he stammered. I smiled, coldly. “Surely you saw them? You were standing right here the whole time.” Without waiting for his reply, I walked past him. I clutched my chest, whispering to myself, “Not yet.” Right now, I was nothing more than a helpless schoolgirl. Even though my heart burned with hatred, I couldn’t touch Gareth. Not yet. He was probably watching me walk away, wondering how to bring me more pain before swooping in again as my saviour. When I got home, the house was empty. Mum and Dad must have gone out looking for me. Just as I picked up the landline to call Mum, I heard a familiar voice behind me.
When I got home, the house was empty. Mum and Dad must have gone out looking for me. Just as I reached for the phone to call Mum, a familiar voice called from behind me. “Becky, where have you been?” It was my mum. My eyes filled with tears, and I ran into her arms. Mum looked down at my clothes and realised something was wrong. She didn’t ask questions, just held me tight, stroking my back. I cried until I could barely breathe, until I had no tears left. I cried for all the pain, in this life and the last. In my past life, I didn’t try to reach out to my parents after I left with Gareth. He had told me that after what had happened, my parents would be ashamed of me. I wanted to deny it, but I ended up nodding anyway. A week later, I got the news that a fire had destroyed my family home. My parents died in that fire. I didn’t even attend their funeral. Dad arrived home, and I continued to cry—my eyes were swollen, my throat hoarse. This time, after I finished crying, I swore to myself I would never cry so easily again. In my past life, I had cried too many times, in the arms of different men, in Gareth’s arms. Now, every tear I had shed because of desire disgusted me. I told my parents everything that had happened. Dad’s face turned red with rage. He looked like he could kill those men with his bare hands. Mum aged visibly in that moment. She held me again, gently asking if I wanted to clean myself up. I shook my head. “Mum, Dad, we need to call the police. I can’t wash. The evidence is still on me. I need to make sure those monsters pay.” 4 Sergeant Clarke and his team, wanting to protect my privacy, took me to St. Thomas’ Hospital with my parents for an examination. They collected evidence, and I was given post-exposure medication. Constable Sarah Harris stayed with me, trying to counsel me, but I wasn’t broken. I stayed calm. I’d lived through this moment over and over in my head. I knew what had to be done. I gave the police a detailed account of everything—how I was assaulted, how they hit me, and how they held me down. The marks on my body, the bruises, and the torn hair were proof of it all. Mum was on the verge of fainting from crying. “My Becky, my poor Becky…” With the DNA evidence collected, it wasn’t long before the identities of those men were confirmed. The police arrested them quickly, but the men denied everything, claiming it was consensual. Because I was eighteen, they said if they could prove I consented, they wouldn’t be charged. One of the officers lost it. “You’re saying an eighteen-year-old schoolgirl voluntarily had sex with a group of middle-aged homeless men and let them beat her senseless? Have you no shame?” One of them smirked, showing no care. “Don’t believe us? We’ve got a witness.” Their witness was Gareth. “Yes, I was there,” Gareth said calmly. “The girl seemed willing. I didn’t see any struggle. She was making all the right noises.” Gareth looked at me, his eyes full of something different from before. His smile was smug, knowing. At the police station, he leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Becky, you’ve come back too, haven’t you?” “There’s no point fighting. You enjoyed it, didn’t you? I know you better than anyone. I know exactly how much your body loves being treated like that.” “Becky, I’m waiting for you to return to me.” 5 slapped him. When I saw the mark on his right cheek, I frowned. It wasn’t even. So I slapped the left side too. Even with all my strength, the slaps left only faint pink marks. Like me—barely there, with no real weight. Gareth just grinned, licking his lips like I’d done something entertaining. It was ridiculous. A slap from a woman is often seen as flirting, not a serious blow. “Becky, you’ve learned to hit,” he said, amused. “But I prefer it when you bite me in bed.” I stared coldly at him and kicked him in the crotch. Gareth’s expression finally changed as he grabbed my shoulders in a vice-like grip. “Becky, I’ll tolerate your little outbursts, but don’t push me.” I couldn’t break free, so I kicked him again. Then, I pulled out the leather belt I hadn’t had a chance to use earlier and struck the cheek I’d just slapped. Finally, Gareth’s face started to swell, blood seeping from his mouth. He looked hideous. “You disgust me, Gareth.” He finally let go, feeling the pain, glaring at me with hate. “Rebecca Swift, you’ll regret this!” 6 The court’s verdict was announced. The homeless men were found guilty of assault, having committed the crime not only in a public place but as a group. They were sentenced to life imprisonment, with two of them receiving the death penalty. On the day of the trial, I went there myself, carrying my new identification. After talking it over with my parents, I had chosen a new name for myself. From that day onwards, I was no longer Rebecca Swift. I became Rebecca Steel, with a name as tough as iron. My parents didn’t fully understand why I had given myself such a “masculine” name, but they supported me regardless. “Maybe when you first named me Becky, you hoped I’d spend my whole life sheltered under your wings, happy and safe without needing to show any strength.” But that name, which now felt like a typical romantic heroine’s name, only made me feel sick. For the first time, I saw fear on the faces of those men. Gareth wasn’t there. I knew by now that they had been abandoned. But even so, they refused to name Gareth as their accomplice. As they walked past me, those once lust-filled eyes were now filled with hatred and regret. If you do something wrong, you deserve to face the consequences. I pulled out my leather belt and carefully traced its length, putting all my strength into it. Half an hour later, five swollen, pig-like faces had emerged. No one stopped me. Everyone understood the rage burning inside me. I took a six-month break from everything and returned to school, enrolling in a retake class to finish the final year I hadn’t completed in my past life. I arranged to live on campus and avoided that alley at all costs. Life at school was peaceful. In the final year, everyone was too busy to notice a classmate who had been missing for a while. But news of my assault spread like wildfire, and soon the school bulletin board was plastered with photos from that night. It turned out that Gareth hadn’t just been standing there at the alley’s entrance—he’d had the audacity to take pictures. When the photos appeared on the notice board, Gareth was on a visit to the school as an honoured alumnus, giving a speech. The headteacher was showing him around when they came across the photos on display. The students gathered around the board, too shocked to move, whispering quietly to one another. My face and body weren’t blurred out, and everyone immediately recognised their classmate. Their stares were like fire on my skin, burning through me. I even heard a boy mutter under his breath. “Who would’ve thought Rebecca Steel had such a hot body?” “Yeah, mate. I’ve only seen that kind of thing in porn…” How disgusting. I turned and looked at Gareth, standing far away with a smug expression on his face. I was trembling, but tears of laughter streamed down my face. Gareth, oh Gareth, so this is the best you can do?
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