Revenge Is Sickeningly Sweet

Chapter one - Fleur

~ Chapter One - Fleur ~

-IRIS'S P.O.V-

' "Come out, come out wherever you are, my sweet fleur," his voice echoed through the cells, "you know, my dear fleur, you are quite good at this game of hide and seek." His footsteps thudded against the concrete, dangerously close to the corner I was hiding behind.

Covering my mouth with my hand, i smelt the iron of my dried blood that stained my arm. I tried calming my breathing. I tried to stop wincing at the deep wound, that has stopped bleeding, on my upper arm. Knife darting was not fun when you're the target. My ragged breathes came out as I breathed out a deep breath. Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, my mouth was pulled to a frown that hasnt left for a month now. My pulse blared in my ears and my head clouded with 'what if's and 'why's.

I could feel my pulse throughout my body. Sobs threatened to be heard, but I knew what would happen if he found me and I was not up for another game of 'Body Darts Ft. Knives' is what he called it.

"Come on, my little Fleur. Im getting lonely and pretty ready for another game," he said lowly, yet menacingly.

I forcefully pushed my other hand to my mouth, as my breathing came out quite loud and ragged. I let out a small sob on accident as a drop of the salty liquid danced down my face.

"Is that your crying, fleur? I can hear you," his whispered voice shot through my ears. He was close behind me. Not being able to hear his footsteps, I closed my eyes letting tears repeatedly fall and small sobs escape, knowing it was too late. 'Please, please, make this stop,' i silently begged to myself. My pulse quickened, if possible.

As I opened my eyes, there was his face. His cold, blue eyes stared back at my green ones. A sickening grin was placed over rotting and already rotted teeth, his blonde hair was greasy as was my brown hair. But, the thing I'll remember most of this monster was his voice.

"My sweet, sweet fleur. I believe I've found you," he said, his voice coming out as a growled whisper as his hand reached up and wiped my tears that fell. I flinched away from him, but as his eyes held a glare I realized I wasnt supposed to do that.

His hand raised above my head and struck my face. The slap reopened my already busted lips and made the bruised gashed by my right eye that was sliced to the bottom of my cheek throb and bleed slightly. I yelped in pain, holding in a pained scream.
"Iris! Iris! Wake up! Iris!" I heard my mothers voice.'

I jolted up, letting out a scream and went to punch her. I stopped as I realized this was my mother, not him. Unclenching my fist, I curled up in a ball and sobbed.

I felt my mothers hand on my back making me panic, "please, dont touch me," I straggled out. "Of course, im sorry," her voice came out in a sweet whisper. Her hand left my back, letting my breathing return to normal. I turned to my mother and I whispered, "Im sorry." "What for?" She asked, confusion laced her voice. "I shouldn't have gone out that night. You told me not to, but I did anyway," I said, remembering the night when I was twelve and went out with my friend and her older sister to the mall. They ended up leaving me in the store for a bathroom, and thats when hell unlocked for me.

"You couldnt have known. It's okay, dont be sorry," she stated.  I nodded, wiping the tears from my face, wincing as I touched the small healing gash on my chin.

I was full of relief the day the large, deep gash by my eye and on my cheek healed. It took half a year due to it being reopened consently. I touched it, his voice rang in my head. 'My sweet, sweet, little fleur.'

'Fleur'.

'Fleur.'

I hate that nickname. That nickname meant 'flower' in french. Something so delicate, innocent, pure, and fragile. Yet, in my eyes, it meant something awful.

I hate that nickname. With every vein and cell in my body.

'Fleur.'

The nickname that gave me nightmares and chills. That nickname made my pulse quicken. That nickname made me wish death for many years.

'Fleur.'