Breathless

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

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My mouth hung in surprise. My eyes widened in awe. As if I lost control of my body my hand let go of the knife letting it clink on the floor, barely missing my foot.

The woman, my mother, looked at me straight in the eyes. I almost didn't realise my eyes getting watery until I finally started blinking and a few tears were shed. I took a few steps back, stopping when I hit the living room wall. I just stared at her, jaw-dropped. By the way she was glaring at me I could tell she knew I was her daughter. I didn't know what to feel. I was scared, confused, worried and angry all at the same time. It was hard to pick just one emotion to feel.

Drakes horrifying figure came out of nowhere. He stormed into the living room with a fierce and enraged appearance.

"Where is it Carol?!"

He roared at my mum. Abruplty he twisted his head to face me. Without warning he vigorously paced towards me as soon as we linked eyes. Mine full of terror and his complete with impatience. 

"You're not supposed to be here!"

He yells at me as he grabs me by the throat and lifts me at least half a meter off the ground with both his hands. I yelp in a high pitch while using my hands to pry myself away from his grasp but he tightens his grip making it impossible.

I can feel the walls of my throat shoving themselves together, suffocating me.

I am no longer fighting him away at full force, my body grows weak from the lack of air and I start to feel lightheaded. I summon as much energy I can to try one last time to pull him off of me. He chuckles viciously as he swings me across the room. I crash into the wall and slam to the floor with a thud, only a metre or so away from my mother. 

I burst out into a cough attack, rubbing my neck from the pain. Panting and inhaling as much oxygen I can at once to rebuild my strength. 

I look up and my gaze is met by my mothers injured face. Although it seems painful for her to move a muscle she lifts her arm and pushes the couch a little, revealing a small rectangular shaped compartment in the floor. A rusty lock on the panel that stops her from opening it. I watch in curiosity and confusion. In all the years we've lived in this house I have never known or seen that diminutive place in the floor before.

All of a sudden we both widen our eyes as we hear Drake stomping our way. She quickly pulls the couch back to its original placement and whispers to me;

"Get the key and open the trapdoor."

Before I can answer Drake grabs my mum and throws her to the next wall. 

"Stop!"

I scream at him angrilly. He shoots me an evil look then goes for me. I ignore the hurt I feel as I quickly get up and run for the door.

"Stupid girl, stubborn like your mother."

He hisses bitterly, now directly in front of me. As if mentally saying 'That's it,' I snap;

"I think you'll regret that remark when I get the joy of killing you."

He laughs histerically before he steps closer and replies;

"I would be careful if I were you girl, you have no idea what I have in store for you."

I wince at his words, I try not to show how uneasy I feel with him so close to me. He lifts his hands aiming at me and hits me with a strong gush of energy pushing me through my now shattered front door. I fly in the air a few metres before a full force crash to the ground causes me to black out for a second. I rub the back of my head while failing to sit up. This is why they should allow carpet to be used for pavements.

I follow the trail of broken wood that was once my front door and watch as Drake picks up the knife I dropped on the ground and walks over to my mother, that last image in my head as my vision turns black.

I gasp for a breathe as I open my eyes. I look around at the familiar surroundings of my bedroom. I turn to look at my alarm clock. It's only been an hour and a half since I started doing math. In front of me is the textbook I was resting on before-wait, what just happened? Was my mind playing tricks on me? Either I'm delusional or Drake just threw me through my front door. I sit back in my chair confused.

I flinch at the pain on my back and jolt up. Why am I in so much pain? I walk over to the my mirror and lift my shirt to look at my back. A long dark purple and black bruise centers itself from my spine to my right ribcage. I stare at it for a few seconds in shock. Did I dream all of that or..? A sudden unbearable worry seeps through me. What if Drake is still in the house?

I run out of my bedroom and down the stairs. Everything looks exactly as it did when I got home. And my vision isn't in black and white. I sigh in relief. Maybe it was just a dream, but that doesn't explain the bruise on my back (and other bruises I probably got from the 'dream'). I examine the living room carefully, attempting to identify any visible clues. A knock at the door causes me to jump out of my concentration.

"Scott?"

I ask in amazement as I open the front door, which is no longer dismantled as it once was. Or was it? He wore a tight fitting black leather jacket along with black cargo pants and a light grey body hugging T-shirt. He sweeps his hand through his dark quiff-styled hair and smirks at me with perfectly whitened teeth.

But it is instantly torn away and replaced with worry as he steps closer and cups my face in his hands. I am momentarilly lightheaded from the tingly feeling that pulses through my body from having Scott so close to me.

"Jennifer how did you get this bruise?"

He asks, pure concern inevitably noticeable in his voice.

"What bruise?"

I ask back in confusion. I go to the mirror hanging in the living room. You would think while I was upstairs in my room looking at the bruise on my back I would have noticed the bruise along my cheekbone, but no, I didn't.

I run my fingers over the bruise a little less surprised than I was when I found the bruise on my back.

"Another bruise?."

I whisper to myself, not thinking Scott heard me until he takes off his leather jacket, resting it on the armchair and walks over to the mirror.

"What do you mean 'another bruise'? What happened?" 

His eyebrows scrunch together showing off more than just his good looks but the high amount of concern he had. He was expecting a very clear detailed answer with nothing left out.

"I had a...dream."

I explained, more as question than a statement which left us both very doubtful that it was just a dream. He must have noticed my pause before saying 'dream' because he questioned me on it.

"What kind of dream?" 

I placed my hand in his and brought him to the couch.

"Well.."

I told him everything, that I 'dreamed'. I told him how Drake strangled me and threw me across the living room and through the front door to explain the bruises. I told him how it was in black and white. I told him my mum was there and what Drake was doing to her. I told him absolutely everything. But I felt like I was missing something.

He was actually more angry than surprised about it, which surprised me.

"You said it was in black and white this 'dream' you had right?"

I nodded, not knowing where he was going with this.

"It wasn't a dream. It was a Creeve."