The Gun His Crown; He The King

Chapter 8

Through the Art of Despair

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It was 6:27pm and Natalie was headed to the gym. Her mother had ventured out hours ago and gave no clue to where she had been going. Jordan was at work and would not be back until after 8, so the only person left in the house was Mikey and she was trying hard to steer clear of him.

She had her gym bag on her shoulder and she was just about to head out the door and make the walk to the gym.

"Go make me a sandwich." A gruff voice said from the couch.

"But I was just about to head out...can't you make it?" she asked quizzically, she was sure he knew that she was literally on her way out the door.

Before she could even blink, she felt her hair being tugged in an iron like grip as he stared into her face. "Who do you think you're talking to like that?"

She smelt the stench of the alcohol as he spoke. She was thrown over the arm of the couch before he was in her face once more. Nearly seconds later, she felt a hard sting on her cheek. "When I tell you to do something you don't question me, you just do as I ask." He seethed out through his teeth.

Natalie tried to pry herself from his grip on her hair. Her face was burning hot.

"Get off me!!" She yelled as she struggled to get him away from her.

She felt another firm slap on her cheek before he placed his grip on her neck. "I should kill you! What gives you the audacity to disobey a man. I am your superior as long as that whⱺre of a woman you call a mother is fǚcking me. Even when not. You got me?" He spat. She just struggled in his hold more as his hand tightened. "DO YOU FǙCKING HEAR ME?!" He questioned once more as he roughly let go of her cervix. She kicked him away before standing up and making her way away from him while rubbing her throat, coughing.

This wasn't the first time that he had put his hands on her, and the first few times that he had done it, she tried to tell her mother, but she had blown her off. Her mother had basically called her a liar. She gave up after that. He was crazy, she was crazy. They were all crazy.

"Do not put your filthy hands on me, I am not a little 15 year old girl anymore." she seared.

"I don't care what age you are, I am not your age mate! When I tell you to do something, you will do it!" he barked back to her in reply; the man was seething more than ever.

"You're a freaking psychopath!" she hoarsely yelled as her throat continued to burn.

"Get the fǚck out of my sight. Pathetic little girl." He stated as he returned to his seat like nothing ever happened.

You're right. I am pathetic. I am pathetic because I should have murdered you in your sleep a long time ago.

She quickly made her way out the house and took the twenty four minute walk to the gym.

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It was in her hold. She was pounding on it. She never gave it time to rest.

She couldn't hear anything, she couldn't see anything. Her mind was in a haze and her fury blazed. Her thoughts were the only thing fueling and guiding her.

A hard punch one after another and it kept getting harder, faster. Her mind was reeling of the events passed.

She didn't forget how Mr. Ezekiel touched her and played it off like it was nothing. She didn't forget every single time Michael laid his hands on her when no one was around. She didn't forget. It wouldn't leave her mind. She was so pathetic. So disgustingly pathetic.