ᵍᵒᵈˡʸ • ˢᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵖᵃʳᵏ

[4]

⇾ DIE FROM THIS

"My little big star..." Someone chimed softly, "Wake up puppy."

You could feel their breath on your nose and dusting across your eyelashes, creeping over your face and dispersing like a puff of smoke. Your body tensed roughly, pain suddenly shooting up your leg and in seconds you could feel it all over your body.

All before your eyes had even opened they had started to shed tears. And when they did, the sight you were met with made the tears fall harder. "Good morninggg sleepyhead!" Stan beamed enthusiastically. His sick laugh right afterwards though turned it into sarcasm.

You pulled your hands only to realize they were restrained. You were lying flat on your back on a mattress, staring up at Stan's bedroom ceiling. You fought the urge to scream though, fearing the consequences. It hurt to crane your neck, but you did it anyways, surveying the room and more importantly your body. Your shirt and panties were still on, though you could see the blood that blotted and ruined them. Your ankles were free, but based on the tightened state of the knots at your wrists, you weren't going anywhere. It seemed like the more you struggled the tighter they grew, so you tried to be still.

He'd taken the courtesy of cleaning you up at least a little bit though. It looked like he'd even bandaged you up too, a white cloth fastened around the top of your leg, where the cut was. The padding looked thick enough but you could still see blood soaking through.

You tried to speak but it came out like more of a stifled choke. You're mouth was so dry you could feel your lips cracking. He noticed this and grabbed a bottled water from the night stand, twisting the cap off and holding it to your mouth so you could drink. He patted your head softly, dragging his hand down to stroke your tangled, sweaty hair behind your ear. Though you barely noticed, chugging down everything that was left in the bottle and still feeling thirsty.

You groaned, every time you glanced at him he was looking right back, lost in your eyes. "What am I doing here asshole!!" You demanded sharply, only for him to calmly press a finger to your lips, silently shushing you. You thrashed around again but the itchy rope tightening even more around your hands forced you to stop. They'd probably be purple if you could see them, but they were fixed to the bedframe above you, behind your head.

"Hey! Stop." He was sitting next to you on the bed, you noticed his mattress was stained with giant pools of your blood. They were still a little wet, but he sat in it anyways. You could see it sinking into the fibers of his dirty jeans.

"Hey.." He said, more soothingly this time, brushing his fingers up and down your arm in a way that was clearly meant to be comforting. "What was I supposed to do, take you home like this?" He said with a tiny laugh. It made you sick how much he seemed to be enjoying himself. Now and especially in the moment when he cut you, how could he be like this? You'd never known him to be even remotely a violent guy, especially against you. Could he have always been this way? Would you even have known? Clearly not.

Tears dotted the corners of your eyes and seconds later streamed down your face. You felt like sobbing but no sound would come out. Staring numbly at your baby blue painted toes, you'd never experienced such helplessness.

You looked at him with your lips slightly parted as he brushed your tears away. "Don't look so sad.." He chimed, sounding a little sad himself, as if seeing you like this was bumming him out. You wanted to argue with his statement and point out that actually, you had plenty of reasons to be sad, but it was pointless.

"Are you gonna let me go.?" you asked quietly, your voice shaking lightly with fear. You grasped onto his hand tightly, looking him dead in the eyes, "Please.."