The Storm In Her Eyes

Chapter 2

*TRIGGER WARNING- SELF HARM!

I was pushing against his chest, trying to get him off of me. Unfortunately, he's way stronger than I am, so my attempts were useless. I kept pushing, he kept kissing. The kisses started to get more aggressive, I was making him mad. He grabbed my arms from his chest and pins them on either side of my head. I'm not giving up though. I keep struggling against him.

He definitely doesn't like it. He moves his hands under my butt and lifts me up. He makes me wrap my legs around his waist. I'm still pushing against him, he's still kissing me. He's carrying me somewhere, and I personally don't want to know where. I keep struggling and I feel him losing his grip. Finally, he loses his grip and drops me on the floor.

I land with a thud. He glares at me. He reaches out to grab me, but I roll out of the way. I scramble to my feet and dashed for the door. I hear Blake coming after me and I'm just praying that I can out run him. I reached the exit, grabbed my backpack and flew open the door. I sprinted out as fast as I could, slamming the door behind me to try and buy me a little more time to get away.

"You can't get away from me Zoey Holland! I will get you!" I hear him yell from behind me.

I keep running as fast as my legs can take me. I still hear him running and yelling after me. I look back for a second and see him gaining ground on me. I look ahead again and pick up the pace. I don't think I've ever ran as fast as I'm running now. I wasn't kidding when I said Blake was terrifying when he's angry.

I keep making sharp turns, trying to lose him, but he clears the turns perfectly. My lungs were burning, my breaths were sharp and heavy, my legs were aching, but I never slowed down. If anything, I pushed myself to go faster. I never stopped running. Once and a while I would look back, and he would always be there getting faster and faster along with me.

I made it out of his neighborhood and now I'm heading towards town. 'If I can get in town... he can't do anything to me when we're in public!' With that thought I went faster, which was really hard considering I've been running at my top speed since I left his house. I managed to pick up speed anyway, which means he did too. I cross the street. After I got to the other side of the wide street, I heard the screeching sound of brakes from a car. I look over my shoulder and see Blake flip of the driver and start running again. 'Thank God! I might be able to lose him now!'

I make it to town and I weave my way through the crowd. I can't run, but I can sure as hell speed walk. I look over my shoulder and I don't see him at all, but I don't lower my pace. He could be anywhere right now. I may not be able to see him, but that doesn't mean he can't see me. So I keep going.
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I finally made it home and I was praying that my mom was still at work. Thankfully luck was on my side for once. Her car wasn't in her spot in the driveway. I take my key out of my pocket and go inside.

I lock the front door and make my way to the kitchen to get some water. I finally catch my breath and head down to my room. I lock my door behind me and collapsed on my bed, sobbing.

'What did I do to deserve such a shitty life?' I look over at my family picture on my night stand. It was a picture of my mom and dad with me in between them. That was when we were a happy family. I smile a little at the memory. My dad hadn't gone off to war and my mom didn't beat me.... I miss this time of my life, when I was happy.

In all honesty, I don't remember what it feels like to be happy. It's like a vague memory that I can't grasp. I sigh, and head to my bathroom, tears still streaming down my face. I open my medicine cabinet and grab my razor. I pull up my sleeve, gently tracing my scars. I take a deep breath, put the razor to my wrist and whispered to myself, "right arm. One cut, two cuts, three cuts four." I flinch a little at each cut, but after words it feels nice. "Left arm. One cut, two cuts, three cuts, four cuts, five."

I wash the blood off my arms and razor. I look up into the mirror. I take off my shirt and look at all my scars I've gotten over the years. All along my back, stomach, and arms. "I'm broken..." I whisper to myself, "and I can't be fixed."

"Zoey Denise Holland! Why the hell did you not do your chores?" I hear my mom yell from upstairs. "Get your ass up here now!"

I quickly pull on my shirt again. 'Uh oh....'