And every time, he dies just a little bit anyway.

Earl and Dean alternate days like a goddamn schedule. My body is not my body anymore. But Earl treats me like a piece of trash, tainted and disposable, while Dean massages my wrist to help me cope, whispers his shame into my ear, and spills his tears against my neck before being dragged away and chained back up.

Today is Dean’s day, and I’m grateful for that.

Dean is holding my wrist between his fingers and thumb, circling around and around and around as he thrusts in and out of me. He doesn’t look at me. In fact, he hardly looks me in the eyes at all anymore. I think he’s afraid of what he might find there.

“That’s a good dog,” Earl sneers from a few feet away, giving orders in between his disgusting moans. “Kitten loves it.”

I suck in a breath and keep my head turned to the other side. Dean pulls back, dropping my leg and raising his hand to the side of my face. I fall to my feet due to our height difference, and he slips out of me. He could hold me up with his opposite hand, but he doesn’t. He won’t let go of my wrist.

His touch is delicate and kind on my cheek, and my skin sprouts with goosebumps that I hope he doesn’t notice. “Are you okay?”

Earl interrupts. “I didn’t say to stop railing her, you dumb ass dog.”

I spare Dean a quick glance, nodding my head and swallowing down the real answer: I’m not okay. I will never be okay.

Dean sighs, blinking slowly. He’s unconvinced, but also aware that there’s nothing he can do about it. He lifts me back up with reluctance and situates himself inside me once again, and I release a small gasp when he fills me. There is a strange, disturbing sense of relief at the feel of him between my legs. Maybe it’s a twisted case of Stockholm syndrome. Maybe I’ve gone mad. Or maybe Dean is warm and safe and familiar, and that’s all I have to cling to.

I’ll take what I can get.

When he finishes, Dean pulls out of me and buries his face against the curve of my neck like he always does. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Cora.” His breath tickles my ear and his tears dampen my skin. “Please forgive me.”

I do. I always do.

Dean is shoved back into his corner and shackled like an actual dog. This is normally when Earl leaves for work, but he pauses as he turns around, pinning his dark eyes on me. I shudder.

“My turn, kitten.”

What?

No. Please, no.

“I-I thought your turn is tomorrow,” I squeak out, inching my way back, wishing I could disappear into the pole.

Earl lunges forward and backhands me, forcing a cry from my lips.

“Hey!” Dean shakes his chains, anger radiating from him in waves.

“I take what I want when I want it, you stupid bitch. Understand?” Earl hisses.