Good Girl

Good Girl- chapter 9

*Ivy*

My arms string so badly from when I cut them. This pain doesn't help the pain I had before. I thought that shard of glass would make it better but it didn't. It fucking hurts.

I can't worry about these scare though. I have to find a way out before I die.

I scanned the room, looking for anything which might help. A small hole I can make wider, a soft patch in the wall that I can use the rocking chair to break. There was nothing. An enclosed space clearly suited for death. Then I had it.

I waited hours for someone to come in again. Either Corey or Kian would come in every now and then to give me some leftovers for me to eat and some water to drink. Don't know why, probably slowing down the process. I fear I won't get fed now. Now that Corey thinks I'm 'on to something'. I hope Kian comes in though, he might let me go.

Then, Corey came into the attic. I fucking hate Corey.

He had a water bottle in his hand, and his other had behind his back. As the door creaked open, I slowly rose from the corner I'd spent two months rotting in.

I leaped from the ground and dashed out the door. I had nothing on my mind except getting out. I didn't know how I was gonna get out but all I knew was I had to.

I thought I was gonna make it out until I felt something pull back my pyjama shirt. "Oi," I heard Corey shout. That's when I began regretting my decision. How could I have been so stupid? Trying to escape right infront of him? He pulled me back and stabbed me in the leg twice.

I think that's what he was holding before. He ripped the blade out my leg and pushed me to the ground. The pain I felt was so unbearable it made the scars on my arm feel like nothing. I wrapped my fingers around the stab wound and yelled. Whatever shit came to mind. "You psychopath get me the fuck out of here," I tried to cry but I couldn't. My vision started to go blurry as I saw Corey walking away in the distance.

The silence was still. I'd been passed out for a good few hours I'm guessing. I looked down at my leg and it was bandaged up. I don't know who did it and why but I don't care. I really don't care about anything at this point.

I think I've gone insane.

"Let me go! Let me go!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, though I knew no one would hear me. My voice was echoing off the dull walls and back. I related this over and over again until my voice was drained.

No answer.

I ripped the hair from my scalp, screaming and crying. Why does my life have to end like this?

I wanted to be a singer when I was older. Which sounds kinda childish but I love the concept of it. Every week I would play piano in my room and write a song to go towards my album. I have seventeen songs on it so far. I'm never gonna get to release that album. And if I do survive, I'll probably be fucking paralysed and traumatised from being beaten up and starved.

I just want to eat. At home, whenever id eat, I'd google the calories first, make sure I was gonna be okay. Not now. Now I'm lucky if I get one calorie in. They give me some leftovers every now and then. But not enough.

I ripped one more chunk of hair out before my scalp started to bleed, and added it to the pile. I looked around me and started banging my head against the concrete wall.

I am insane.