ScarLett

Chapter 1

"What's the matter Scarlett?" His voice echoed through the hallways as I clutched my undergarments, now destroyed and threatening to expose my bare skin.

I could hear his laughter from behind, it seemed deep and faded but I knew he was near. I slipped and fell as my knees buckled from weakness but I didn't make a single sound. I gathered the last of my strength and pushed myself forward, holding on to the walls for support.

I heard footsteps.

Finally approaching the door to my bedroom I reached for the door nob but it swung open before I even got a chance to touch it. I stumbled forward and a whimper escaped my lips as I felt his arm snake around my waist and lift me up.

He threw me on the bed face first and turned kicking the door shut.

"What did you do?" I questioned him, unable to hide the fear in my voice.

He flashed a mischievous smile as he walked towards the bed. "What ever do you mean Scarlett?"

Watching him with despair I began to feel queasy and my eyelids were heavy.

"What did you think you were here for, Scarlett?" His blurry figure hovered over me closing in the space between us, his voice continuing it's taunt. "Did you think everything would just be handed to you on a silver plate? Did you honestly think that it was going to be that easy?"

The struggle to keep my eyes open was strong but the thought of no longer having control of the situation and surrendering to this man was making my blood boil.

"You d-druged me," I stuttered as my own voice sounded muffled and from a far distance as another figure appeared on the left side of the bed. Her long hair draped on one side of the shoulder, covering the right eye that starred at me with utter hatred.

I felt movement and a very strong hand around my throat.

"Yes, and you're time has come."

************************************
One year ago

I've always hated funerals.

They gave me the same odd feeling  every time. The feeling of emptiness, of loss.

They reminded me of the cruelty and adversity of life itself.

Stepping away from the living room I finally managed to break free from all the (un)familiar faces in my grandmother's house. I quietly tip toed up the staircase and escaped to my room where I grieved in silence.

In solitary. Secluded from society.

That was the way I preferred it. The walls showed no judgement, they'd been with me through thick and thin and I confided in them.

Another funeral.

I didn't like people seeing me cry. That might give them an impression that they could step over me.

The same people and the same feeling of vulnerability. I knew nothing about them and they knew nothing about me. Only one thing brought us all together.

Funerals.

I gazed out of my bedroom window at the remaining traces of winter, which were melting away bit by bit. Soon there would be none left, resembling the bits and pieces of my scattered heart.

"I can't believe Jonnathan left me alone at a time like this," I whispered to myself, wiping away the last of my tears.

I rubbed my temples trying so desperately to shut out the noises from below.