Lost

I Could Get Used to This.

"Daddy can I get a ice cream popsicle?" my high pitched voice asks.

"Sure, baby." he smiles but his eyes show anger.

"Can I get a spongebob Popsicle?"

"Here ha go little girl." the ice cream man handed me my popsicle.

I smile and gaze at my Popsicle in my hand. My dad put his hand on my shoulder, "You can't eat that until we get home, okay?"

"Yes, Daddy." I give him a toothy grin.

On the way home, I kept checking to make sure my Popsicle didn't melt. The label said cotton candy and cherry. Both my favourites!

When we arrive out the house I race into the house and unwrap the pop, which is soon slapped out of my hand.

"I refuse to waste my money on you!" my father says through gritted teeth.

"But daddy, my ice cream, you ruined it." I pout.

"No! You ruined my life! You ruined it!" he growls. He struts forward to me, fists in balls.

Frightened, I back away.

"What-what are you doing?" I stutter.

He pushes me and I fumble to the ground. The force of his push making distance between us. He stomps toward me as I try to scoot away, my feet not allowing me to stand up.

"Stop. You're scaring me!" I screech.

He grabbed a knife from the kitchen, and creepily smiled. Then a somewhat haunted laugh followed, "I should have done this a long time ago." he laughed and with that, the knife was flung.

I wake up kicking and screaming, I open my eyes and see a figure sittings next to me, causing me to scream louder.

"Fiona, it's me! It's me!" the figure shouts as it tries to restrain me.

"No! Stop!" I shout back, thrashing around in my bed, trying to get whatever is touching me off.

"Fiona, it's Jackson!" it says, voice in panic. His name calmed me down. I squint my eyes to see Jackson's face, the gloomy moon light, highlighting his perfect features. His eyes filled with worry, which didn't make me feel well. I hated it when people worried about me. I never knew why, but when someone says they are worried about me, I always say not too.

"Hey, c'mere." he cooed, as if I was a child, he held me in his lap. I was crying in his chest, feeling pathetic that I was crying in front of someone.

"It felt so real." I sobbed, dampening his black shirt.

I wrap my arms around his neck as he cradles me in his arms. They felt so safe. I felt safe. I felt safe....in his arms. The first time I have ever felt safe in someone's arms in a long time.

"What was it about?" he asks as I get off of him.

"I don't..want to talk about...it." I continuously sob. I make my way to the bathroom connect to my room and wash my face, as I attempt to stop being pathetic and weak.

"Fiona, talk to me, please." he begs and I look at him through the mirror. His eyes filled with curiosity and care, making me wonder why he cared so much and we only met... months ago.

"I don't want to." I say in a whisper-like voice.

"Fiona." he stood up and made his way to the door frame of the bathroom.

"Jackson." I mock his tone.

"You wake up screaming and kicking and not knowing that I was with you, you don't expect me to want an explanation." he gazed down at me. I couldn't find words to answer his question, which his tone didn't make it sound like a question, more like a statement.