The Fallen Ones

Chapter Five: Skarlets POV

My screams echo through the living room and Elliot jumps and stands protectively over me. Painfully I force myself up and kick him in the stomach so hard he falls to the ground in a daze. I was on top of him as soon as I gain stability and pull my pocket knife out. Aiming it directly at his throat. Without hesitation he harshly rolls over me and pins me to the ground. Jacob rushes out of the chair and takes the knife from my hand. I hear a chuckle from Trever that makes my blood run cold. He was there...

And then it hit me. How did I get out of the chair? Why isn't my blood all over the floor? Shouldn't I be dead by now?

"It was a dream you wack-job." I hear Trever mumble and then laugh again. "Common mom, why'd you pick a crazy one? Couldn't have picked a sane one? Poor Elliot."

"P-p-pick me?" My voice, along with my body, is shaking violently. What did that mean? The entire family went silent. I move on, I don't know what they mean, but I don't care right now. What's happening? I turn my attention back to Elliot, who was still on top of me holding me down. He seems to enjoy this all, but gets off me and I take a painful breath and sit up. "Y-y-y-you tried to k-k-kill m-me... My-my-my arm..." I whisper, sounding like a child as my voice trails off. I feel my arm through my long sleeve shirt. A scar runs from my wrist to the top of my arm were he cut me, but that's it. There's no cut, no blood, but he must have cut me to get the scar there...right?

"No. I didn't." He sounded annoyed. I feel bad, should I just leave? "How many times do I have to say I'm not gonna hurt you?"

He helped me stand and I regain my balance. I look over at the clock. Only an hour has passed yet it feels peaceful. To peaceful. Something is off. I couldn't hear Jane. Her voice isn't playing through my mind. Elliot's voice from my nightmare echoes through my head, "Goodbye Jane..."

My stomach doesn't hurt either. I look at Mary questioningly and she offers a weak smile. "I gave you some pain medication. You may feel alittle off for awhile.

Oh god. I'm not suppose to take medication. Ever. Dad tells me it's a 'sissy' pill. And that I need to learn how to get through pain on my own. I don't like this. "H-how m-m-much?" I wish my voice would go back to normal.

"Quite abit, but not enough to harm you in any way."

"O-o-okay, I-I-I'm s-sorry." I try to strengthen my voice but it was no use. I was like a puppy you just got from the pound. Shaky, and scared. I still can't piece together what's happening.

"Mommy?" Jill looks up at Mary. "Is she okay? Her voice sounds funny."

"Yes dear, she's fine. Just scared."

Jill looks at me, and the scowl she normally wears around me turns into a smile. She hugs my legs and giggles looking up at me. "Whenever I'm scared, mommy gives me a hug. You need a hug too?"

I force a smile to make her feel better and kneel on my knees to hug her. She wraps her arms around me my neck and we remain that way in pure silence. Tears run down her cheeks and I feel them dampen my shirt. I pull her away to face me and wipe her tears away with my thumb. I watch her as tears fall from her eyes and struggle to fight off my own. Rule number one: don't cry. Crying is a sign of weakness. Don't cry. Not again. Don't cry.

Don't. Cry.

I make my smile seem stronger and speak softly to her. "Jill? Why are you crying?"

"Why are you scared of us? I don't understand. I'm not a scary person, am I?" Her voice trails off and another tear runs down her cheek, which I once again wipe away.

"Of course not!" I force a cheerful voice and she smiles. She reminds me of me when I was her age, insecure and easy to break down in tears. I imagine my mom standing in the position I'm in now, trying to comfort me. "You're an adorable little girl. You don't need those tears on your face. You're to pretty for them." She giggles, that's what mom would always told me when I cried. Before she passed away...I shake my head. I have to focus. I go on to the next part of what mom would do, which never failed to stop my tears. "Wanna hear a secret?" She nods eagerly. "Most pretty girls are ticklish, are you?" She shakes we head but the goofy smile she's wearing tells me otherwise. "Really? I don't believe you!" Playfully, I pull her into my lap and tickle her as she laughs loudly until I release her. She looks at me with a wide smile and hugs me, telling me crying was only a memory to her now, it worked!