Satan Reincarnate (re-written)

Depression Cherry

(Trigger warning: This chapter contains suggestive material that may be upsetting to some readers.)

***

"Liar." He said, in a low, beguile whisper.

I was so tired of being called a liar, over and over again. Yes, technically I was lying to him- but he wasn't supposed to know. I never knew how to react to anyone talking to me, especially not him. Even more after I watched him launch a knife into a sweet, unknowing little girl's throat. I hated him, I really thought I did. With every naive bone in my body. I felt threatened, and no longer relaxed with his hands tight around my upper body. Like he was seconds away from piercing my jugular just like he did Sadie. I would never forget.

"Stop fucking lying to me, Angelina." His timeless threats grew more sincere by each vowel he hissed down at me. His threats weren't normal, they were promises. I knew that sound in his voice. The sound of my future warning me that regardless of if I spoke or not, it didn't matter what I did. I would still end up bleeding somehow, and my blood would be on his hand every God forsaken time.

I pursed my lips, and squeezed my eyes shut as his rough hands scraped the sensitive skin of my arms. His hands went from my neck, and down my spine until they found my wrists in a vengeful motion. I was frozen, I hadn't any idea what he would do. It was so different every time, making it like a living nightmare.

"I didn't even say anything. How could I lie about nothing?" I whispered, my voice hoarse with the painful fear of what kind of hell he would rain down on me.

He sat up, ripping my arms forward. I was afraid, the room was too dark for me to see anything. Even him. It was like I was sitting in an abyss, soon to be torn apart by an anonymous force of nature. I shivered as I felt cold hands crawl up my back, hard nails tracing the outline of my spine, shoulders, soon the tight, bobbing ball of my throat. I was frozen, frozen with the most painfully embarrassing fear. The room was completely quiet, other than the rapid pacing of my swollen heart and exaggerated breaths.

"Angelina," He whispered, his liquid voice traveling over me like a wave of frustration mixed with fear. I felt his warm breath on the back of my neck, his hand still wrapped around my throat from behind. Not so tight to where it hurt, but tight enough to where I felt as if he were warning me. "Keep your arms still for me." He murmured, his other hand going from my shoulder to my wrists.

My chest began to rise and fall at a faster pace, my breathing grew louder as I tried to console myself. I squeezed my eyes shut, I couldn't do anything. The door was locked, and it was too dark for me to see jack-shit. He took his hand from my neck, and wrapped it around my wrists for extra strength.

"Nothing to say?" He whispered, pulling my arms above my head.

Oh he had no idea. I had so much to say, so much to cry about and scream about, so many rants I needed to get off of my chest. I had so much to say, just not to him. I felt as tears threatened to fall from my eyes as I squeezed them shut, the hitch of my breath making me bob up and down as I tried not to let myself cry. Why did I have to snoop?

"Oh don't cry, not yet." His voice was soft, but I could hear the mockery he wasn't trying hard to hide.

I pursed my lips into a straight line, feeling vulnerable as he raised my arms above my head. He pulled me back by my wrists, making the bones strain down to my ribs painfully. I let out a pained whine, my arms cracking as he moved them in ways I didn't think they were supposed to move. He moved from behind me, his hands still holding mine tightly together. He grabbed something from the drawer next to him, and rammed me aggressively against his bed-frame. I groaned, my head hitting the dark wood with a loud crack.