Run While You Can(Editing)

Chapter Eight

•Chapter Eight•

My hands were tightly tied to a wooden chair, which was very uncomfortable. As I slowly opened my eyes, I realized I was placed in a tightly packed circular room. There were no windows and the door was locked. Blood was dripping down from my arm. My mouth was filled with so much blood that I couldn't scream for help without getting it all over myself.

Everywhere I looked, I saw fingerprints. Faint outlines of hands across the wall, in blood.

There was a mirror in my direct line of vision on the wall. My hair was knotty and raggedy. Their were several scars and bruises on my cheek bones. Slashes down my arms and chest dripped blood. Every time I inhaled and exhaled, pain stretched across my body.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, behind the closed door. I quietly waited for my death. The knob of the door began to turn, revealing my father in a expensive suit.

"Jamie." He said as he brushed my raggedy hair out of my face. I immediately spat blood at him, which fell across his face.

He twirled the blade of a knife in between his fingertips. On the right side of his belt, was another knife, which scared me even more.

"I hate you." I said, blood spitting everywhere.

He smiled as he sliced my arm, the pain increasing. Tears began rushing from my eyes, wanting everything to be over already.

He jabbed my hand again, splitting it open.

"Stop." I whispered, unable to say anything loader with the pain. "Please. I beg you. "

He just stood there, smirking, still twirling the blade.

He continued to slash my chest. I shut my eyes. I couldn't watch my own death. I winced at the sound of blood slushing from my body, and unto the cold floor.

"I'm your daughter." I croaked.

Please.