Brutality // Ashton Irwin

TWO

Amarie:

I groggily force my eyes open. As soon as I do so, a searing pain shoots through my skull. I take a sharp breath in, grabbing my head in my hands.

Once the pain starts to simmer, I let my breath go and take a look around.

I'm on the carpeted floor of an unfamiliar room, just in front of the door. It looked as if someone had opened the door and roughly thrown me inside, without a second thought. The walls were a deep cream color, and there was a large bed in the center of the room. Other than the bed and a small wooden dresser, the room was empty.

I slowly bring my hand up to the door knob in an attempt to turn it. It's locked. I roll my eyes in agitation.

I spot another door on the wall to the left of me, and sluggishly slide my body towards it, trying to avoid any fast or sudden movement to save myself from a more drastic pain in my cranium. I assume it is a bathroom door. There may be a window that I can bust and climb through.

I wince as my head pounds more violently than before, and turn the handle of the door. I hear a faint click and I push the door open with the palm of my hand.

Using the sink to pull myself up, I take a look around. I mentally groan at the discovery of a windowless wall facing me: mocking me.

I hear the door to the large and impersonalized room fly open, slamming into a wall. I realize that if I had still been unconscious, it would have hit me and more than likely left a bruise.

Heavy footsteps trudge in, and I peek into the room to see an irritated looking man: the same one that I clearly remember dragging me into a car and kidnapping me.

"Why are you in my fucking bathroom?" He snaps, glaring at me.

"I.. um.. I had to use the restroom," I reply, trying to sound convincing.

"Bullshit," he snarls, stomping towards me.

"I can tell when you're lying," he adds, grabbing my face in his hand.

I feel my stomach drop, and I flinch at his touch. He uses the same hand to slap my cheek, and my head aches worse than it ever has.

"Don't flinch when I touch you," he lowly growls.

He stares at me, his expression anticipating a response.

"Do you understand?" He yells in my face, and I nod quickly as a tear drips from my eye.

"Use your fucking voice!"

"Y-yes."

"Yes what?" His eyebrows raise, and his hazel eyes hold a pool of rage so deep that I wouldn't dare test their depth.

"Yes, I fucking understand!" I scream back, and he lets go of my face. His expression changes, and I can't read it.

He takes a slow step away from me, glances at the open door, and then back at me.

"Let's go," he says, leaving me confused and even more frightened than before. Is he going to beat me? He said that he would in the car last night.

My face goes pale, and he notices.

"I'm going to punish you later," he smiles, as if the thought is pleasant, "but I have to pick some things up from the store. I don't trust you alone."

My soul fills with dread, and I stare down at my shoes; I don't want to go anywhere with this insane man, and I certainly don't want to be beat.

His hand squeezes around my wrist, and he pulls me through his large house. I try to pull away and make a run for it as we exit the front door, but he yanks me closer to him.