Care For Me ✔️

S I X T Y - E I G H T

—trigger warning—
abuse, manipulation, murder, mature scenes, kidnapping, suicide
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t e n — y e a r s — a g o
PART ONE
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t h i r d — p e r s o n — p o v

Jenna couldn't see straight, her vision blurry as the drugs invaded her blood stream. She was floating, high from the effects of the meth she'd just inhaled.

She hadn't always taken drugs, she stared when she was sixteen — a year ago to be precise. She'd met her boyfriend Brad, at a college party downtown, the blonde haired boy being three years her senior. He pressured her into trying them two months into their relationship, he'd told her he couldn't be with her if she wasn't open to trying new things, adult things.  

She loved Brad, she'd do anything to impress him. Jenna couldn't see it, blinded by her love for the man, but Brad was a manipulator, he didn't care for Jenna, he was using her, he was sick, cruel even.

At the start of their relationship, he was the perfect boyfriend, taking her on dates, showering her with love and affection. But as the months went on, he changed. Loving hugs and gentle kisses became brutal and harsh, instead of giving him her body, he'd take it forcefully. The things he once complimented became the same things he'd criticise. The first slap came, followed by a tear filed apology, until the slaps became punches and the apologies were none existent. But he loved her... right? That's what he'd told her.

I'm only doing this because I love you, you're to young to understand.

She believed him, as time went on she always forgave him, until it became a regular occurrence and forgiveness meant nothing to him.

"Get up, we're going." Brad's deep voice called out, his arm grabbing Jenna's wrist in vice grip, pulling her from the dirty fabric sofa she'd been lay on.

They'd been at one of Brads' friends houses in downtown New York. They'd spend the evening sniffing cocaine and inhaling meth, like they'd done every weekend. She wasn't sure when she became addicted to drugs, she loved the feeling they gave her during her first try and since then, she's chased to feel that way again, drug after drug, and now, she barely felt the effects. That didn't stop her from craving them though, she couldn't go twenty four hours without some kind of substance in her system. Without it, she became anxious, paranoid, agitated — she needed it, she craved it.

"I'm coming," came her sluggish reply, his bruising grip so painful but so familiar.

Brad dragged her out the entry way, her feet stumbling on the concrete steps in the hallway of the run down apartment blocks.

"Brad, slow down," she mumbled, unable to keep up with his long strides. Brad ignored her, like he always did, his fingers digging in deeper, so deep she could feel the bruises imprinting on her flesh. "Brad,"

"Shut the fuck up," he growled, stopping in his steps, turning to glare at her with his bloodshot, drugged up gaze. "Why do you always do this Jenna?" He asked, pushing her back against the chipped concrete wall, his free hand wrapping itself around her throat, squeezing it harshly, "I told you we have to go, I told you, and now you're telling me to slow down? Why do you always act like such a child?"

Jenna lowered her gaze, closing her eyes tightly as her oxygen became limited, "I-I can't b-breathe," she choked, feeling her heart beating rapidly in her chest.