Looking down at my slightly swollen wrists I stare in awe at the cut rope. He didn't hurt me. Why didn't he hurt me? He has to make this so damn hard doesn't he. He wants you to feel safe so he can kill you unexpectedly. It won't be unexpected. I know he will. I just don't know when. Peeling my sore legs off of the wooden chair I make my way over to the bag he dropped on the ground half crawling to get there. Looking inside I see my most comfy pair of pajamas and decide no further investigation is needed. Changing quickly I pluck the pillow off the chair and lay it on the floor by my bag before grabbing the blankets from the main room and making my small bed in the corner away from the disgusting mess of dried blood and vomit. The smell of it all still lingers in the air but I manage to get comfortable. Sleep comes surprisingly quickly and dreams of Chase and I before all of this drift into my mind like a film, my thoughts taking over and forming the most beautiful of dreams.
...
Waking up to the smell of chicken noodle soup I look around the room. Sitting in the doorway is a small bowl and instantly I attack the liquid inside scarfing it down like I've never eaten before. The last thing I ate was French fries and half a burger and even that was hard to shove down my dry throat. This liquid goodness slips down my throat seemingly healing the rough surface on impact the grease mosterizing the dry skin. I'm tempted to rub the soup over my dry knees and face but I need as much food as I can get. When I finish eating I set the bowl outside of the doorway and scoot back to my blanket mattress. He's only stuffing you up so he can eat you. This isn't a fairy tale. Well maybe it is. I've only ever read about things like this. I never thought it would actually happen. Whatever I need the food if I don't eat I die and if I do eat I possibly die so why torture myself more then he will by not eating? You don't deserve his food. Whatever. Pushing the thoughts out of my mind I reach for my bag once again to search through it's contents. Inside are clothes, books and a flashlight along with other random things. He must have gone to my house. Happiness blooms in my chest seeing the items but images of Chase going through my room and touching my stuff quickly diminishes the feeling. Laying back down I do the only thing I seem to be able to do and curl into a ball to try and sleep.
...
Chases pov :
She doesn't love you. She wants to die rather than be with you. Why would she ever want someone like you? Fuck. The words mean more and more to me as the days go by. I can't seem to rid myself of them. Just fucking kill her already. Images of Allison's body surrounded by warm blood fill my mind creating a warmth in my stomach. She would be so beautiful that way.. No! I can't do that. Then I'll never have her. I need to keep her with me and love her. She's just upset. Maybe I could give her some candles to lighten her up. Yes that's a good idea. Striding towards my small kitchen I open the door I know they'll be in and take out five. One for each corner and one for wherever she is. She's going to be so happy with me.
Walking down the stairs to the basement always fills me with joy as I know once I reach the bottom I'll get to see my princess. Holding five candles in one hand isn't exactly easy and I almost drop one. Reaching the last step I let out my breath and begin towards the room I know she'll be in. Peering in the doorway I see her small frame curled into a tight ball. Her body is riddled with goosebumps from the cold and instantly I'm sorry for leaving her down her. How could I do this to her. I shouldn't have ever talked to her. It's to late now
Here she is in my basement freezing with little to no blankets. Lighting the candles I lay them in the corners before placing the last on beside her with a match box. This will give her less time with the fire. I don't want her trying to hurt herself again. Opening the locked closet I pull out a thick blanket and lay it on her before sitting beside the bundle and brushing the soft hair out of her face. A small smell emits from her and I realize she hasn't bathed in a while. See she stinks you don't want her. She's garbage. Trash. She's not worth your efforts don't you see that. No. She's worth everything. Even if she gets on my nerves. Memories of burning her fill my mind and I pull the blanket down to reveal the wound. The skin surrounding it is black and slightly yellow. White gunk oozing from it down her leg. It's infected. Shit! I need to treat her before she dies. She needs a doctor. No. No doctor's I will take care if this myself. I will take care of her.
YOU ARE READING
The camera man
Mysterie / Thriller(In editing) She thought she was finally becoming friends with someone, a camera man with a good eye and even better sense of humor, but that was before she saw his camera roll. "Who is this?" I questioned "What the fuck. did I say you could look a...
