I slowly rose up and limped in front of her. She started to pushed me, heh, probably doesn't want to be here when it collapses. "Your room." she grunted. Putting the tip of the knife on the edge of my skin, lightly pushing me with it.
I opened my door, having the door knob burn my left hand but I don't care anymore. Been stabbed numerous times, I think I can handle a burn. I glanced around my room and saw a chair in the middle of my bedroom, then I looked back at Chelsea. She gave me that look of 'do I have to say anything?'. I sighed, and limped over by my bed collapsing. I gripped the edge of the soft blankets that will soon turn to ash, and quickly slipped something in my bloody pants. "Get up!" Chelsea snarled, slicing my back, and then pushing me forward onto the chair. I cried as she tied up each of my limbs to the arms and legs of the chair. "My work here is done." She stated proudly, as she pulled out a box of matches. She feels good about this? Murdering two people and stealing their wealth? Chelsea is twisted and deserves to rot in hell! "Go to hell." I spat out, as bloody spit dripped from my mouth.
YOU ARE READING
Stitch
Teen FictionIt contains cursing reader discretion is advised. It's about a child's "trials" with his stepmother. Contains gruesome material.
