The Killer From The Past

Chapter Two

A/N: I'm really not good at this kind of stuff but I thought I would try, please leave you opnions in the coments below and if you like it, make sure to follow and read my other stories that being made in the process. Thanks for the support ❤

As I'm getting in my car, my best friend, Taylor, texts me:
Hey, you still coming to get me??
I couldn't help the smile that spread on my face because we've been talking about today for the past few weeks.
Of course! I respond. How could I even forget about today??
She sent hearts in return.
I get in my car and start driving to her house like I do everyday, but today, well, today is different. Today is her birthday.
I pull into her driveway, and honk three times like everyday, she ran out of her house when the horn stopped honking the third time.
"Hey!" She practically screams as she gets into the passenger seat.
"Hapoy birthday!!" I beam and she returns it with the biggest smile. "What do you think your parents got you?" I ask as I back out of her driveway.
"They said when I turned eighteen, they would buy me my dream car!!" She can't even control her giggles of excitement. Her dream car is a matte black with blue strips 1968 Camaro.
"Ugh, I cant believe it! Do you think they actually got it for you?"
"I have no clue but they won't let me go into the garage, so..." she drags out her o's like she always does when she's happy.
I love seeing her like this. It makes me happy. She is still giggling when we pull into school.
My boyfriend, Jason, is waiting for us in our parking spot. We get out of the car and his arm is instantly around my neck. Taylor looks over at me, concern replacing the happy on her face until I give her a slight smile.
"Happy birthday." Jason said. She doesn't give him a response, just a slight smile and a nod.
Jason walks me to my locker where I grab my books for first period and drop off my book bag. He walks me to my first period with his hand on my neck, finger nails digging into my neck. We get there, and he kisses me hard, and without passion. Taylor and I watch him walk down the hallway and once he's gone, we walk into class and take our seats at our desks.
"You really shouldn't be with him." Taylor says to me, leaning over the bar that connects the chair to the desk. "He's getting worse everyday."
"I know," I say, and I was telling the truth, I knew that I shouldn't be with him because he's abusive, I have the scars to prove it... But that's why I can't leave him...