❝ I'm not scared of you .❞
❝ You should be.❞
Malaina Hill was done playing by the rules. Forced to behave like the perfect daughter by her upper class parents, she's sick and tired of being told what to do. Her mother's words haunt her, making her...
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(a/n: i just wanted to encourage comments! i read and appreciate every single one of them, so don't be a stranger!)
Mateo
THAT NIGHT I could barely sleep. Just the thought of my dad's enraged face was enough to keep me tossing at turning all night. I could already picture him, the smell of beer reeking on his breath, the way he would strike me across the face as he cursed me under his breath. My mom would just turn away, pretend like she didn't see the monster that she had married.
The house was dead silent, almost disturbing me. It was almost pitch black in the guest room, all the lights had been turned off with only a little bit of the moonlight entering behind the curtain of a window.
I had nothing to keep me company, my stashes of pills and alcohol were safely stored at home and I knew I'd had to get past my parents to obtain it. God, I couldn't live without it.
I couldn't concentrate without the feeling of relief that drinking gave me, the feeling of being swept away to my world where everything I hated didn't exist.
I sat up on the bed, rubbing my sweaty palms against the fabric of my pants. I checked my phone to see that it was only a little bit past 1 in the morning. I forced myself to lie back down, turning my pillow over so it was cool against my cheek.
Sleep Mateo. Eventually, I did end up falling asleep that night but my dreams turned out to be anything but sweet.
I dreamt the same dream that I had been dreaming since the night of the incident. I was in the abandoned hospital, but it wasn't abandoned anymore, the building bustling with paramedics, surgeons, nurses, and doctors, roaming through the hallways, transporting patients from one room to another.
Beside me stood my dad and my mother who was carrying Eliana in her arms. They all looked happier than I have ever seen them in my life, even Dad's eyes glimmering with life.
"Come, Mateo, let's go visit your brother. He's waiting for us," he said, extending his hand out to me as if I were a small child. I couldn't smell the beer on his breath or hear the anger in his voice.
His tone, his body language, made it seem like he could be trusted. I hesitantly took it and it felt so real. He hadn't done this in years. We all walked towards a room, room 209.
Everything seemed fine. That was until I saw him. He was so small, so fragile, barely weighing 80 pounds. I could see his veins through his snow-white skin, hear the sound of his heavy breath, feel the struggle that it took his body just to take one more.
"Mateo," he whispered, wheezing as he breathed in and out slowly. His mouth curved into a small smile but I couldn't return it.
"Mateo," he whispered again but I stayed quiet. The room around me darkened dramatically. It was no longer bright and cheery but rather dark and eerie. "It should have been you, Mateo, " my Dad snarled, his face now contorted into something more familiar.
