Chapter 323: Where It All Began

Mary put an arm over his torso, hugging him, and lifted one leg to rest it over his.

Both of their skin was covered in sweat and the remnants of semen that leaked between their thighs.

"I love you..." she murmured next to his ear, while giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Mark took a couple of seconds to react. He still felt the echo of the orgasm in his legs and his breathing was a little difficult.

And without saying anything he put an arm around her to pull her gently against him.

When the calm returned, the two of them lay curled up together beneath the sheets, in that quiet corner of Mary’s dream world.

She rested her head against his chest and left a hand on him, tracing slow, absent circles as she stroked him gently.

Neither of them spoke; they simply stayed like that, enjoying the silence and each other’s closeness.

This went on for a few minutes until Mary broke the silence.

"What are you thinking about so hard, sweetheart?" she said, looking up at him. "You’ve had your head in the clouds for a while now."

Mark took a moment to answer.

"Sorry, I was just remembering something you said," he finally admitted, glancing at her sideways.

"What thing?"

"You know... when you said ’I love you.’ Honestly, it threw me off a little."

Mary stayed quiet, just watching him, waiting for him to go on.

"Don’t get me wrong, I’m not upset about it," Mark continued, shrugging slightly. "I know you probably just said it in the heat of the moment, so it’s fine."

And truthfully, Mark hadn’t taken it all that seriously either.

After all, he was already used to many of his wives having their own preferences, games, and fetishes when it came time to have sex.

Emilia was a good example.

During the day she could be the most dignified, proper woman in the world, but in private she was a completely different person.

She enjoyed rough sex, sometimes edging toward outright violence, and had no problem taking on a fully submissive role with Mark.

Aria had her own peculiar requests too, especially when she asked Mark to treat her like a cum dump or a sex doll.

Rose, for her part, preferred to take the dominant side of things.

She loved being in control, and, to her own surprise, had recently discovered that knocking him unconscious while she drank his blood turned out to be especially thrilling for her.

And then there were Alice, Ely, Zilu, Yuki and Cali, who were considerably more ordinary in that regard. They simply enjoyed sex that was more loving and tender.

So Mark didn’t find what Mary had said all that strange.

If that "I love you" had just been part of the moment, a way of getting swept up in things, he could simply go along with it and not think twice.

But then he looked at Mary.

She just watched him in silence as, little by little, her smile faded away.

"...So you really don’t remember, do you?"

Mary’s voice changed completely. It came out lower, wistful, carrying a disappointment he’d never heard in her before.

"Remember what?"

Mary stopped moving her hand over his chest.

For a few seconds she said nothing, as if searching for the right words, before finally speaking, her gaze lost in the darkness.

"You and I already knew each other..."

"I know. We lived in the same apartment complex," he answered, a little confused. "You told me that yourself when you showed me your memories. Or did you forget already?"

Mary slowly shook her head.

"That’s not it... what I’m trying to say is that you and I had already talked before."

"Huh? Really?"

"Yeah..." Mary let out a small smile, though this time there was sadness in it. "I know that moment probably didn’t mean anything to you. But for me... that moment meant everything."

Mark frowned, thrown off.

He searched through his memory, trying to find something, a face, a place, anything that matched what she was saying.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t place her anywhere in his past.

"Mary... I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about," he answered sincerely. "When did that happen?"

She let out a deep sigh before placing a hand on Mark’s cheek.

"I would have liked for you to remember it on your own... but I guess there’s no point hiding it anymore."

Then Mary’s mind began traveling far back, to one particular memory.

One she had tried to bury for years, but which, despite the passage of time, remained as vivid as the very first day.

Paradoxically, that memory was two things at once.

A wound time had never managed to fully close, and a small ray of light that still managed to warm her heart every time she returned to it.

...

POW!

A sharp blow echoed through the entire apartment, followed by a muffled whimper.

"Fucking Brat! Good for nothing! What do you mean you don’t have any more liquor money?!"

On the floor of that small, cluttered apartment, a young woman curled in on herself, covering her head with both arms.

Amid empty bottles, scattered clothes, and piled-up trash, Mary tried to shield herself from the blows.

She had just turned twenty-two, though her appearance didn’t show it.

Deep bags hung under her eyes, her face worn out, her whole look neglected.

Her long black hair was completely disheveled, falling tangled over her shoulders.

A pair of slightly crooked glasses rested on her nose, while an old t-shirt and gym shorts, both dirty and wrinkled, covered her body.

She’d seemed to stop caring about her own appearance days ago.

And standing in front of her was her mother.

A middle-aged woman, her face flushed from alcohol, her eyes glassy.

Mary barely had time to react before another blow landed on her.

"I’m... I’m sorry, Mom," Mary sobbed, her voice breaking, curling up even tighter. "I’ll try to see if any of my cards still have credit... but please... please, stop... don’t hit me anymore."

"Then get up and move that skinny ass of yours already," her mother spat.

She grabbed her arm hard and yanked her up violently, forcing her onto her feet.

"And you’d better bring back the good beer. I don’t want you coming back with that cheap garbage you brought last time."

Mary barely had time to regain her balance before her mother shoved her toward the door.

"And since you’re going out anyway, might as well see if you can scrounge up some money while you’re at it. Beg, steal, suck some dicks... I don’t give a damn how you get it. Point is, for once in your life, be useful for something in this house besides sitting glued to that stupid computer all day."

Mary lowered her gaze, pressing her lips together to hold back another sob.

She didn’t dare answer.

She knew any word could earn her another hit.

"Did you hear me?"

"Y-yes..."

"Then what the hell are you still standing there for? Get the fuck out!"

With one last shove, her mother threw her out of the apartment and slammed the door in her face.

BAM!

The slam echoed down the entire hallway.

And then, only silence remained.

For a few seconds Mary didn’t move. She just stood there, staring at the closed door, trying to hold back the tears.

Everything hurt.

Her cheek burned where the blow had landed. Her arm throbbed where her mother’s fingers had dug in, while a metallic taste began spreading through her mouth from her split lip.

But above all that physical pain, there was something that weighed far heavier.

That feeling.

That old, familiar sense of being worth absolutely nothing.

Mary had heard those words so many times that, over the years, they’d stopped sounding like mere insults.

They almost seemed to have become part of her.

A nuisance. A burden. A piece of shit.

And worst of all, in some corner of her heart, Mary had started to believe that maybe her mother was right.

Outside, the rain fell hard, drumming against the building’s outdoor hallway.

Mary started walking down that open corridor, lashed by the damp wind, hugging herself under her thin, already slightly soaked clothes.

"I swear to God, I’ll kill you one day, you old bitch," she muttered through clenched teeth, her voice shaking with rage and helplessness.

With her mind clouded by pain, Mary didn’t see the puddle spreading across the tiles.

Her foot slipped.

She had no time to catch herself with her hands. She fell forward hard and slammed face-first into the ground.

A sharp pain exploded across her face, and when she managed to half sit up, still dazed, she felt the hot rush of blood pouring from her nose.

Drops of blood fell onto the wet tiles, mixing with the rainwater.

Mary stayed on all fours in the middle of the deserted hallway, soaked to the bone, shaking from cold and pain.

Something inside her had been cracking little by little for a very long time, weathering every blow, every insult, every day of that miserable life.

And now, finally, it broke completely.

Then the tears began falling without restraint, mixing with the rain soaking her face.

They weren’t tears of rage anymore, just pure exhaustion.

Mary felt utterly alone.

No one who truly saw her, no one who cared how she felt, no one who would even notice whether she stayed there or vanished forever.

"I wish I’d never been born..." she murmured through her tears.

But it was right then, at the lowest point of her entire existence, that a voice startled her from behind.

"Hey... are you okay?"