Winchester High| 16+

Chapter 11: Pounce

Before I could think, his greasy hands were around my neck.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever imagined in those five words that I'd ended up being choked near to death. I tried to release his fatal grip with my hands but his were all too slippery. He brought us all the way to the scratchy texture which was the wall, and I wouldn't stop refusing. I kept waiting for my dangling legs to hit the floor, but they wouldn't. All you could hear was the silent sounds of my attempts to escape.

I thought he was going to kill me and from this close I can see the color of his eyes. They were a hint of yellow and were surrounded with this bloody color. He peered right past me, through my soft head right at the wall behind me, like I was already dead.

I couldn't call out for help let alone scream. He wouldn't really do this. People only die like this in the movies, right? I thought. That thought was the only thing I had to convince myself that this moment wasn't my last.

Finally, while I was on my--what it felt like--my last breath, the door opened, which had to be my Dad. I was elated. As elated as one could be while being choked. His keys jangled and the coat rack shook, it was a matter of life and death that he'd come in faster.

He came over, ready to see his quint little family "Malik!" He shouted and ran over and tackled him off of me. I fell to the floor and appreciated air. I held my neck, making sure it was still on my shoulders. Every second I felt our hard wood floors was another I was grateful to be alive. Malik, making me grateful to be alive. That thought frustrated me more than being suffocated.

"Grace!" Dad called out to our Mom, not like she was going to do anything. She's the one who left me alone with this psycho. I looked at Malik who was on the floor as well recovering his muscles from the blow--his eyes were now more distinctly yellow and red. My dad looked at him through his thick eyebrows and muttered, "You need to leave."

 A sore ring of pain pulsated in my neck. Mom left the same room she stormed into, storming out and witnessed everything all at once. I made sure to highlight the soreness of my neck.

Thankfully, she came out with no jewelry on saying, "What happened here? I can't leave you two alone for one second--"

She tended to use language as if to play a mediator, which I hated. "Really?! He tried to choke me!" I called out, struggling for air mid sentence.

"Yo tell his square to stop touching me." Malik said, referring to my Dad. He was raging, speaking through his teeth like some drooling bulldog. He stumbled up onto his feet, remarkably sooner than me who was still catching my breath leaning on a soft ottoman. I felt tears in my eyes appearing faster than my attempts to wipe them away.

We were all speaking at the same time, leaving no room for chronological conversation.

"Please don't speak to your father that way..." Mom said.

"That's not my father." Malik said.

He was right. We didn't know who his father was. But when you grow up together you stop calling yourself, 'Step-siblings'. Plus, we were related through our Mom, which to me, counted more than the alternative. Although due to current events, it felt like we were becoming just step-siblings.

"No, no , no, he has to go. I don't know what you two have going on but this is the last straw." My dad said pushing his hands so far through his hair I thought he'd pull it all out.

Mom was crying, I felt bad for her through it all.

"How can y'all stand him!" Malik said he threw his arms out at me. Mostly, I was baffled he still found it in him to villainize me even more.

"I saw you! You nearly killed him!" They were both shouting in a disorienting volume, I felt like I was at the world's worst concert.

"Oh, honey." Mom came over to me while I remembered how to breathe. I couldn't help but think about how stupid it would be if they still had ridiculous rings on when he cupped my face. I probably had this puppy dog from all the water in my eyes because she turned to Malik and starkly said. "Go."

The room seemed to quiet down at this point, beside a symphony of stress induced breathing mostly caused by me.

"Aight." He slithered on, walking backwards and keeping a steady eye on me.

Dad tried to come over and console me. Applying a combination of attempted comfort from both my mom and dad. I could entertain it not for a second. I didn't want to be the victim thing. I felt like I was still being suffocated. I pushed myself upwards and onto my feet. They watched me the entire time I went to the sink and give myself a glass of water. I calmed myself mentally starting a domino effect of relaxation that went throughout my entire body. I finally felt like I was breathing. 

"I just need a second." I muttered. I thought I would tell them how I feel in that moment, just because it felt right. The lamps were on, Malik was gone, and the ring on my neck faced, but I didn't care to speak to anyone. I couldn't even bother to see their shocked faces anymore. I grabbed my glass and went over to my bedroom. It was this cluttered mess, but nice. My second favorite room in the house.

Just as I was about to flop into bed my phone started to ring. It was Nicolo. I didn't know if I would answer until the phone kept ringing, and ringing, and wouldn't stop.

"Hello?" Nico said, his voice was etched into my brain but it was like a stranger was talking. I didn't respond until he said "Hello?" again.

"Yeah, what's up." I said oddly casually.

"I need to talk to you." He said.