He caressed my cheek softly and I bit my lip to keep myself from trembling away. I couldn't help but see the darkness in his eyes as he leaned closer to my ear, his cool breath tickling my earlobe.
"You'll never be worth it,"
Roxy Smith never wante...
I never did want to have to remember the horrible memories of my past. I didn't want to have to go back there. I didn't want to have to see his face again. Not ever again. I thought it would be that easy. I thought I would be able to just tell my mother "that's it" and "let's go".
Oh, how stupid I was. How f*ckin stupid I was.
I really thought it was that easy to get away from him? Ha. He always knows how to bring me right back to him. It's scary, really. He somehow knows how to scare me to the point where I want to crawl inside myself and hide forever.
Our car pulls up into the garage and I stare in horror at the place I once called home.
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I climbed out of the car, hesitantly. I knew he was watching me. I could feel his dark gaze on my back as I grabbed my suitcase from the back and trudged it all the way up to the front door. I was tempted to look his way, but I knew that if I were to look that way I would never be able to look away. I kept my head forward towards the door and bit my lip as I waited for my mom to open it. I cursed to myself and stopped biting my lip, remembering the rules he once whispered into my ear.
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"Rule number one," His husky voice drifted as he slid the smooth, cold knife across my warm skin. It left a light mark but not noticeable enough to draw too much attention.
"No biting your lip," He looked up into my eyes as he clicked his tongue. He continued to walk around me, keeping the tension clear in the air. I gulped and kept my mouth shut.
"I hate it when girls bite their lip. It gives me a feeling that you should never be allowed to give me," I don't even dare to nod, knowing that will earn me a new slice in my leg.
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As my mom opens the door I breathe in the scent. Apples and cinnamon. I trudge up the stairs into my old room.
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The scent of metallic mixed with Lysol go up my nostrils and I turn away from the faint red stain on my carpet(A/N I know there isn't a faint red stain on the carpet in the picture above just imagine there is). Images of his knife stabbing me repetitively come to mind and I almost hurl at the thought of my countless nights bandaged and sick from the wounds he gave me. I set my stuff down on the floor next to my bed and curl up under my fluffy white pillow. I keep my face partially hidden and let my eyes peek out from under it, staring through the window at the rotting house across from me. I was grateful that he couldn't see me since he slept his murderous nights up in the attic where his room was decked out.
