Pressures of Love {ON HOLD}

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Riley’s POV

Everything was covered in blackness. I couldn’t see, hear, or feel anything. The only sense I seemed to be able to use was that of smell.

And it’s a terrible smell at that, something reeked of what could’ve been death, or despair, or all that’s bad in the world.

There was a quiet shuffling somewhere behind me, like something was moving closer to me, very slowly. Like a predator stalking its small and weak prey.

The smell grew stronger and I recognize the strong reek of alcohol. I covered my nose to rid myself of the horrible odor, but it started burning at my eyes, making them water.

I heard an angry grumbling, right next to my ear and it circled around me, moving close than farther away again; telling me how useless I am, that nobody will ever love me, no one will ever see any kind of benefit in having me in their life.

It’s probably right. No one ever bothered to help me. No one thought there was anything wrong.

A finger trailed down my back, making me shiver with fear. I felt something grab my wrist and it started dragging me into what seemed to be an even darker pit in this already deathly black room. What is happening, where am I going?

Then the pain started. Every piece of me felt like it was on fire, felt like I was being burned alive.

“You’re worthless, you little shit. You make me sick.”

It felt like hours had gone by till I blacked out completely.

I awoke in a cold sweat, my boxers were soaked straight through and my bed was sopping wet. It was still dark outside. I checked my watch, it was only 3 AM. Well it’s a bit later than usual this time.

Eight years I’ve woken like this. Eight years I’ve had the same nightmares, but this one is possibly the worst. It’s the closest to what ever happened in my waking nightmares.

Ah shit, I actually pissed myself this time. Well, it’s been a while.

I got up quickly, taking the sheets off my bed and pillows, removing the blankets as well; I shoved them all into the washing machine. I stripped myself out of my boxers and quickly put them in too, closed the door, put the powders and soaps in and turned the machine on.

I walked back down the hallway into my room three doors down, grabbed a fresh pair of boxers and went to my bathroom to take a nice long shower. Clean myself of my fear and loathing.

I turned on the hot water and closed the shower door, waiting for the water to heat up, then stood in front of the mirror to assess the damage.

Well, it’s safe to say, I look like absolute crap. Probably worse.

There were big black bags under my eyes, my blonde hair was plastered to my forehead, there was sweat dripping everywhere. I smelled even worse than I looked. Sweat, piss and being shit scared do not mix well.

The shower was steaming now, so I stepped in quickly trying to keep the heat inside. I stood underneath the boiling water but didn’t feel the heat; I could only feel the water cascading down my body.

I stood there for about twenty minutes before the steam was gone, the water’s probably going cold, so I wash myself everywhere quickly then turned the water off and stepped back out again. I dried myself off and put the clean boxers on, striding out of the bathroom.

I walked out of my room and went to TV room next to it. I plopped myself down on the couch and turned the TV on; Family Guy is on, cool.

After an hour or so, I fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep. But it only lasted just over an hour and a half, when my doorbell rang loudly throughout the house.