Trust

Break Me

I take a sharp intake of air, gasping for breath after the long dose of unconsciousness. I cough a bit before steadying my breathing. I glance around at my surroundings. My eyes widen and I whimper gets caught in the back of my throat.

The all too familiar dark room surrounds me. The same place I spent the majority of my childhood. This same house, still marked with my blood stains. I feel my heart sink as realization creeps in.

He's back.

I hear the loud, piercing creak of the wooden floorboards. Footsteps sound through the hallway and into the crack under the locked door. I hear the lock click before the door swings open. I grip onto random furniture surrounding me as his full height towers over me.

Those same ash covered clothes adorn his tight, skinny body. Hard black boots cling to his feet. His scruffy beard and mustache appear to have never been shaved. His ice cold stare burrows into my terrified eyes.

"You thought you could get away, did you?" He growls. I look down at the floor, not answering.

"LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!" He barks. I tear my gaze up to his.

"You thought you were free. You thought this was just your past, merely a nightmare. Well, you were wrong. I was there. I found people to help me. Remember Gavin?" He snaps cruelly. My eyes widen as a tear unwillingly falls. He laughs.

"Yep! He was working for me! I got your number from him, too! It wasn't hard to track you after that..." He states. Another tear falls. His face grows rough.

"Stop crying!" He snaps, slapping me across the face. The pain vibrates through my cheek as I feel the bruise begin to develop.

"You'll think twice before running again! You will pay. This is what happens to bad girls!" He says. He slaps me across the face again. I snarl and turn back. He narrows his eyes at at defiance. He clenches his fist and goes to punch me in the ribs.

I block it with my hand and grab his wrist. I deliver a solid kick to his shin and he pulls back. I stand tall as he regains his footing. If looks could kill, I'd be lying on the cold hard ground. He goes on the attack and attempts another punch. I block again but soon find myself tripped up and on the floor. He takes this moment to pounce on me.

He throws punch after punch and slap after slap. He does everything he can to leave me broken. Blood pours from each wound. After becoming sure that I had no energy to move, he stands up, stepping on me in the process. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a shiny silver item. Sobs erupt in my throat, but block themselves to stay down.

The item nears my arms and he slides it down, opening a fresh cut. He has a knife. I squint my eyes shut, willing myself to wake up from this horrid nightmare. There's one difference between this nightmare and the others.

This one is real.

And I'm not waking up anytime soon.