Emma believed that only boys would be dumb and wouldn't take no for an answer. She didn't expect men to be the same way.
The soil felt hot, like her skin was melting it and turning it to fire. Bushes hid the mess he made of her. A mess he left behind to die.
Each bone felt like it was broken, the echo of their hits fresh in her flesh as intense bruises. Her legs felt like they were snapped, her body trembling despite it being a warm spring. Emma was trying to cry out for help, only to feel like the dirt she was thrown into being sucked in with her breaths.
Fire was deep in her lungs, forcing a knot to her throat, causing her to choke. She was balling the dirt up in her fists, trying to push through the thick bushes and out onto the sidewalk she was traveling before she was jumped and pulled into darkness.
He was strong, desperate for his own release, almost crushing Emma's trachea as he pushed her down into the dirt. She clawed at the bushes, trying to get her legs to work. It was like his force managed to travel down her spine, paralyzing her.
Emma soon felt the roughness of the sidewalk. Pulling with the rest of her fading strength, she tried to get her head visible to people walking along this route.
It was hell to try and get through the thickness of the bush. Each time she dragged herself, she could feel her ransacked purse digging into the ground. A faint light illuminated her dirtied face and messy hair. She dug her fingers into the crack of the pavement, trying to breathe. It would only be luck if anybody came this way at this time. Most of the people were up on the hill, where she came from, partying because it was a Saturday.
Emma just happened to be unlucky.
Laying her cheek to the pavement, she gave another pull, still trying to drag herself out of the confinement of the bushes. The branches pulled on her legs, scraping against her skin, reminding her why she was fighting to survive in the first place.
It was the wind that brought the smell of partying over her, and it was that smell that seemed to convince her mind that giving up was the best option. She closed her eyes, still trying to breath, her ribs feeling like they were caving into her lungs: puncturing them so the air was filling up her bruised body.
When she finally decided to let everything go, a voice brought her back. A panicked voice. A familiar one too.
Their hands grabbed hold of her shoulders, dragging her out of the bushes, her bottom half completely soaked in her blood of natural defiance against forcefulness. The touch was rough, but she couldn't fight it. Fingers dug into the flesh of her arms, pulling her out of the bushes and to the street. Then, she felt her back hit the cushion of a seat. When her head rested, her body finally being somewhat comfortable, her mind forced her to a rest to try and heal.
-
The memories were vivid, even the feeling of hands touching her unconscious body was somewhat there. But Emma convinced herself she was safe, with her savior sitting in the chair in her hospital room. He wouldn't leave, and barely spoke. Though, Emma could tell who it was just by the way he looked.
He had a hood on, covering the brittleness of his poisoned hair. A mask on to cover the sunken cheeks and bring a shadow to his dying eyes. He was unbelievably skinny, and Emma was afraid for his health when she should've been worried about her own.
At first, he sat there, unmoving, hiding his fist as if it had caused her harm. Then, he washed it off, scrubbing soap into his red stained skin. Emma thought it was her blood at first, but she knew it couldn't be. Then, he sat back down, rubbing the bursted flesh on his knuckles, humming gently.
"Alex," Emma muttered, voice hoarse from inhaling dirt.
She gripped the side of her bed, turning her head to face him, eyebrows furrowed. Alex looked up, almost scaring his own sister with his poisoned eyes. He scared himself every time he looked in the mirror, so he never stared at his own reflection again.
"Thank you..." Tears were in her eyes, reminding Alex of what he did before she woke up.
He wasn't always present by her side. Alex remembered gripping the steering wheel of his friend's car tightly. When he pulled up to the house he originally came out of, he didn't shut the car off. What his original plan was slowly pushed to the side, but a copy of a less deadly one came into its place.
The guy he was looking for was easy to find. He was in the corner with his girl, whom Alex was positive was sleeping with other men. But that was the least of his worries.
He lured the guy out into the open, then outside, right next to the car. His friend, the owner of the car, was watching, a beer in his hand. He was slowly creeping out, watching the fire in Alex's dying eyes. The guy turned around, asking what Alex wanted to show him. Before he could finish his sentence, Alex swung.
The guy landed on the hood of the car, gripping the metal like it would save him from Alex's wrath. Alex grabbed him by the hair and smashed his face into the hood, gripping his scalp tightly, a void filling up at the sounds of his bones and teeth breaking. He grabbed him by the neck and whipped him back to the sidewalk. The guy's face was already bloody, his hands trying to go up to shield his broken face.
Alex stomped on his ribs, watching his body flail to try and protect itself. He wanted to cut this monster open and leave his remains as a warning to other people on the sidewalk, but he settled on destroying his face. Alex drove his knee into his sternum, wanting to hear his bones crack, but he heard nothing. He punched into the guy's cheeks, wondering if he had enough time to destroy everything that made him commit this heinous crime.
Alex punched him again, feeling blood beginning to burst onto his knuckles, the hardness of the guy's skull creating bruises and small abrasions on Alex's skin. The guy was still trying to fight back, but the concussion given made him dizzy. Alex got up, glancing down at his trembling body. The sounds coming from him sounded like crying: he was pleading for mercy.
Where was your mercy, you sick fuck?
Alex asked quietly, bringing his knee up, driving his foot down onto the guy's groin. The body flailed, horrified howls of agony echoing into the night. People were beginning to hear his screams over the blasting of the music. Alex grounded the guy's genitals into the pavement, feeling two pops underneath the heel of his sneaker.
He glanced to his right, seeing that his friend was staring. When they made eye contact, his friend turned his back, going to sip his beer again. Alex scraped off the blood and grime on the edge of the sidewalk, quickly getting back into the car and zipping back to the hospital.
Alex arrived before Emma woke up.
Can't believe I was ever friends with him. Alex muttered to himself when he sat down in the chair, waiting for his sister to wake up.
Emma was now looking at him, inspecting his features.
"Why are you wearing a mask?" She asked gently.
"I like it." Alex offered, watching her shake her head.
"No... let me see." He scowled gently but complied. The mask barely fit his face, so it slipped off easily. Alex watched Emma recoil gently in horror at the configuration of his face. She noticed how he was trembling, his jaw clicking.
"Alex," He shook his head, putting the mask back on. A huff escaped his shaking body. He began to realize the absence of a high was creeping in, causing his trembling.
"You need to stop." He didn't say anything, knowing that if he did, a hiss would come out. He saw no trouble in his habits. Emma gripped the side of her bed tighter.
"Alex..." A wail started to creep into her tone. Her brother wouldn't look at her, his eyes focused on the foot of her bed, his stare indicating the scowl underneath his mask.
"Please tell me you'll stop."
He said nothing.
YOU ARE READING
The Grean Household
Romance"It was a mistake..." She told her mother, folding her hands into each other. "Marrying him..." Her mother said nothing, she simply sat there as her only daughter stood across from her, on the verge of collapsing from bruised ribs and cracked shins...
