Peculiar Attraction

Chapter 4: Wash It Away.

Author's Note: Thank you everyone who voted! More chapters are on their way!!
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CHAPTER 4: Wash It Away.



Elijah.



The name tasted like poison. It was mysterious and enchanting, just like its possessor. The origin of the name was meant to describe heavenliness, yet he was sin.


He embodies the word LUST.


Absolutely beautiful, but evidently dangerous.

He stares at me with questioning eyes and I realize his lips are moving. Alert once again, I stray away from troubling thoughts and try to decipher his words.

"Well?"

"W-well what?" My voice is hoarse, making me cringe at the appalling sound. I can see him slightly roll his eyes from annoyance.

"Do you want a shower or not?"

"Will I be taking it alone?" I blurt out, my biggest fear apparent in my tone. I do NOT want to be sexually assaulted in the shower.

His mouth contorts into a scowl, revealing his displeasure. "Of course," He snaps and leaves me there, standing awkwardly in the kitchen. What's his problem? I thought he kidnapped me 'cause he found me APPEALING, but he's acting like I possess some kind of viral disease.

He returns, a plush towel under his arm and two bottles in his hands. "This way."

I'm led down another narrow hallway. At the end lies three separate rooms, one being a large bathroom. He shoves the bathing items into my scrawny arms and pushes me inside, closing the door behind me.

Click. The door locks from the outside and I can hear footsteps fading down the hall.

Alone at last.

My fingers twist the silver knob, water instantly spraying out of the showerhead. My body slowly sits down in the tub, the muscles in my thighs aching. I inhale deeply and let the huge droplets crash into my back and shoulders. My skin soaks up all the moisture, leaving my pores clean and refreshed. I massage my temples and neck, loosening the concentrated tension. I lather every inch of scalp and body part, hoping to wash away this horrible, icky feeling.

Once washed, I wrap myself up in the fresh, soft towel. My palm wipes the foggy mirror, exposing a clear reflection. At least my face is only slightly swollen. My elbows rest on the counter, palms facing upward.

I bury my face into my palms, sighing heavily through the peaceful silence.


Drip. Drip. Drip.


Water plops from the showerhead to the metal drain. It's unceasing rhythm faintly similar to music. Like a lullaby trying to reassure me.

I look up at my reflection, studying this stranger I had become. The lump in my throat is so painful I bust, tears streaming down my face. Is this my life from now on? What's going to happen to me? My body heaves slightly and I watch my face morph into an ugly monster of self-pity as I let my crying become more pronounced.

Breathe. Calm down.

Just stay calm.

I take long breaths and brush my damp hair away from my face.



I know what I need to do.





I need to kill myself.

I let out a soft whimper, realizing how brash this conclusion is.

But if I don't, I'll be taken advantage of sooner or later. Oh God, let it be later.

It would be better if I was just dead. Death would be much simpler. Yes. That's what I'll do. Now with what?

I search the bathroom aimlessly for something that would be useful. But I have no idea what to search for. How does someone kill themselves?

I freeze and realize the stupidity in all of this. I suddenly sit on the tile, wrapping my arms around my knees. What are you doing, Marley? You're not killing yourself. That's crazy.

As if on cue, knuckles lightly tap the door several times.

"Your time's up."



My time is up.


I no longer get to live a normal teenage life. It's almost as if I had died.

And gone to hell.