Ludicrous // Ian Carter

The Stale Raisin

Its been a few weeks, a few painful weeks. Kaleb had fully moved in, he was a complete grub, wherever he went mess would follow. Kaleb stood 6.2 ft tall, dirty blonde saggy hair framed his face that held his dark brown eyes and of course, the intelligence level of a stale raisin.
If he wasn't attractive, Rachel wouldn't of even given him a chance, she was shallow and she has always been that way.

"When are fucking leaving slut" Kaleb addressed me. I felt the air move as he spoke, spit flying everywhere. He towered over me, my back pressed against the rounded edge of the kitchen bench.

"Next week" I mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Oh speak up bitch" he said rolling his choclate eyes. His hand now had a firm grip on my upper arm.

"Let go of me" I hesitated and tried to pull away.

"I was only asking a question" he said in a chilling tone, he wasnt loosing his grip any time soon. I could feel a sharp pain.

"Please Kaleb" I softly spoke, trying to calm him down. He let out a laugh as his grip grew tighter.

"Look how scared you are" he said in a mocking childlike tone. The down grading statement got to me, my vision began blurring with tears. This only made him happier. He hes never grabbed me or hurt me this experience was new.

"Do you do this to Rachel?" I questioned, his malicious grin turned to a frown, his face expressing how offended by my statement he was.

"Only in the bedroom, she's not like you, you deserve everything I say and do to you" he replied with a sly grin. I gathered the strength to push him and he fell back, knocking his head hard on the cupboard. I gulped, the anger visible in his eyes.

Oh shit

Fuck...

He lunged at me aggressively, a rough hand made contact with my cheek. My face went numb as I forcefully hit the ground. I heard his stern footsteps leave the room. Everything went black.

I layed on the kitchen floor in pain debating my options. Tired of the feeling of my own tears puddled around me. I peeled myself off the cold tiles, the sickness in the pit of my stomach was climbing up my throat. Head spinning, vision blurry I stumbled to the bathroom. This shit was like a hangover on steroids, except only in rare cases hangerovers make you fear for your life. Only the chirping birds outside and the house settling sounds accompanied me, as I sat on a new set of cold tiles attempting to sort through my emotions behind a locked door. Swallowing my fear I stood, now facing the reflective glass. Blood from my left nostril had tried, staining the skin a harsh crimson mark covered one half of my face.

I have to get out now.