Chapter One ; Wafting
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Cally's POV
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Me and Harry sat infront of my desk, looking at some poems I wrote.
"I like this one" he smiled, holding up one of the first poems I wrote. The smile didn't seem to reach his eyes, though.
"Me too" I grinned, remembering when I wrote it. It was a poem I wrote for my art class, freshman year. I had one of those "art, is everything and anything that you love to show passion for", teachers.
Harry set down the paper, turning to look at me.
"What?" I pinched a lock of my hair, pulling it behind my ear.
The moment seemed great, until his eyes darkened, and his smile dropped. His hands wrapped around my mouth, preventing me from screaming, as he drew a knife from his pocket, placing it lightly over my neck.
I almost stopped breathing, and my heart skipped beats rapidly. What is going on?
"I want you.. To grab a sheet of paper and a pen." His eyes dared me to fault; I didn't.
"MmmMmmMmmMmmMmmMmmMm??" His hand made my voice sound muffled, so he moved his hand down to the bottom of my jaw and I repeated myself.
"W-what do you want me to write?" I lifted the pen over the paper waiting for him to tell me what to do.
"Write everything I say, nothing extra, nothing less.." The hot breath of his, warmed up the side of my neck, almost tickling me. I nodded.
"Write.. :
Dear Parents,
I know this may seem not like me, but I have been very depressed lately, and I can't take it anymore, so I'm going to end it. This will be best for all of us, including me. Please, don't take this too hard, but this is goodbye. I love you. Have a nice life.
Love, Cally "
Harry spoke, waiting for me to start writing as he leaned over my shoulder.
"D-don't you think that's a little harsh?" I sniffled.
"Just write it, then fold it up and leave it lay there." He became angry, rushing me and pulling the knife closer to slicing my neck.
I picked up the pace, writing faster and pulling the paper closer. Before I could actually fold the paper though, Harry snatched it from my hands, reading it for himself. Making sure I didn't write anything extra, I suppose.
"Alright, fold it up, and lay it down" he threw the paper back on the desk, and placed his hand back on my chin.
My hands were hard to work with, considering they were trembling to no end, but I still folded the paper and layed it down.
How are my parents going to feel when they come home to that letter and I'm not here?
"Good girl. Now, we're going to go down to the car and your not going to struggle, alright?" He whispered in my ear, not letting the knifes' position waver, until I sacredly nodded , and he slid it back into his pocket.
I grunted when he hauled me up out of my chair. His shoes made my stairs creek as we walked down the steps, to the front door. The only sounds were his shoes, and the front door slamming behind us.
"Get in the car." He swung the passenger door open, swinging me into the front seat. I didn't even get the chance to attempt to get in the car, he just shoved me in.
