The Poison in her Veins

Splitting Flesh

The next morning, I feel like I have a hangover. My mouth is parched and the strong, naked arms wrapped securely around my waist around me only get tighter and pull me closer, each time I try to wiggle out of them. I can feel Oliver's hot breath breathing down my neck, sending shivers down to my toes. He looks so calm and at ease, different to when I last saw him. I bring my fingers up close to his face, wanting to feel the strong lines of his jaw and those dimples that never go away even when he is pissed off, but I hurriedly bring them back down to my side. What is wrong with me? I can't be wanting him after all he has helped do to me, I should hate him with everything I have. With one last attempt to remove myself from his grasp, I squeeze myself under his arm breathing a sigh of relief as they become loose, allowing me to slip through. The alarm clock reads 6:15 so I head to the bathroom and brush my teeth, throwing on a sports bra and spandex. I head to one of the gyms I remember passing by yesterday on my way to the office. Luckily, it's Sunday so I'm not expected to go to any training until tomorrow.

To start off, I do 5 miles on the track, sprinting every other lap. A little over 35 minutes later I am done, still slow, but getting faster. I had always been one of the fastest runners on track at Xavier Academy and Maddy was always bitter about how I didn't even have to practice to get as fast as I was. Out of breath, I grab water and see that the targets are set up with knives and arrows. Grabbing a bow, I place the metal arrow on the band and pull back, releasing my breath slowly as I do so. I picture Harry's face on the target, giving me motivation to be stronger. Seven arrows go by and I open my eyes again, smiling as I see all arrows on the red dot at the middle of the target. Next, the knives. I pick four up, leaving two to the side, and throw them all in a matter of two seconds at the next target. One goes just outside the center for, but the other three are placed next to each other, carved deep into the board. I sigh in relief. Knowing I can stop someone like Harry now and not be that weak, useless girl I just was a couple weeks ago calms my mind. Sitting down I drink a full bottle of Gatorade in a few swift gulps, the other two knives still in my hand. I jump up at the sound of the door slamming open. 

"Blake?" Recognizing the voice, I cringe and slowly turn around, preparing for the worst. "What the hell? You need to rest after last night. What happened, and don't say nothing because it sure didn't sound like nothing?" Anger flares up in me. How dare he act all concerned when he is one of the main reasons as to me being in this place? None of the things that Harry did to me would have happened if he hadn't helped Mallard take me that day after I left school.

"Well that's going to be you're only answer Oliver. Nothing happened it was just a panic attack from being away from home this long so drop it."

"You sure it was because you were missing home? I remember there being a commotion about you one night last week and Mallard won't tell me what happened, all I know is that you were involved." Too concentrated on Oliver I don't notice one of the knives digging into the palm of my hand, splitting the flesh.

"Oh, is little Oli worried about me? Maybe you shouldn't have kidnapped me that day after I left school!" His eyes darken, telling me I have really annoyed him now.

"Do. Not. Call me. Oli. And yes I did help take you. Maybe it was for the best, I mean you saw how easily you're parents accepted your disappearance." Ouch. That hurt. Closing my eyes I take several deep breaths, reopening them and giving Oliver that darkest glare I could muster. "And you know what Blake? Fine, deal with your issues yourself. I don't even know why I was asking." He runs a hand through his messy brown hair and I can see he is frustrated. Retreating back to his normal, cold and brutal self he turned to me. "Get to training early tomorrow, you're already behind due to your late start." Without another word he turns and stalks out of the room, not bothering to close the door.