Less than Perfect

17. Saying Goodbye {part one}

Chapter Seventeen
Saying Goodbye
Part One

"What do you have to speak to me about, Johnny?" Skye asked carefully, her body stiffening.

He looked away, thoughtfully, and chuckled a little. "Skylar," he addressed her, turning to look at her again. Something flashed across his face—anger, regret, maybe, she didn't know—and he examined her body. There was something about the action that made her skin crawl, shivers prickling her skin. He seemed to notice something about her too, and chuckled. "Are you scared of me, Princess?"

She almost fell against the bed, surprised. Struggling against the fear, she shook her head and crossed her shaky arms, feigning bravery. "What do you want, Johnny?" she asked again, stronger this time despite the crawling fear that was invading her.

"I just want to make sure that my princess is alright," he stated. "Are you, Princess?" He fractured the space between them, making it too small for Skye's approval.

"I'm fine, Johnny." Testing the waters, she told him something else. "And I'm not your princess, Johnny. I've never been your princess."

It didn't seem to make him pleased. In an instant, he was in front of her, grabbing her wrists and cocking his head to the side, hot breath bathing her face. "I think you are, Beautiful," he purred, stroking her face.

Appalled, she spat at him. "You're wrong, Johnny."

Chuckling, he pinched the skin on her wrists and pushed her. She fell against the mattress, scrambling to get away from him frantically. He laughed shakily, like a rumble of sorts. Crouching on the mattress, he neared her, gaze locked on her.

She pushed herself farther and farther back, searching feebly for the other side of the bed so that she could leap off, but was brought short of her destination.

Johnny grabbed her ankles, tugging her aggressively towards him. He crawled over her, pinning her down by her shoulder with one hand and covering her mouth with the other. "Make one uncalled for sound and I swear I'll hurt you," he growled.

Fighting tears, she nodded her head in impulse. She gagged, the simple act of being so close to him disgusting her. He was repulsive, filling her with only feelings of hate towards him. Whatever he wanted from her, she wanted him to stop wanting it from her. She wanted him to get away from her, set her free. That's all she really wanted.

"Good girl," he crooned. Removing his hand from her mouth, he propped himself up beside her.

She gasped for air, fear and anger choking her. Clutching the bedspread for security, she bit back the urge to scream, knowing he could easily kill her and others. He didn't have to tell her, she knew by the darkness in his eyes, the heaviness of his voice, and the strength of his body. He could kill, without thought or consideration.

Shaking, she resituated herself so that Johnny wasn't touching her anywhere but her shoulders. Being near him was enough; she couldn't have his body lingering on hers too long. She knew there was fear in her eyes—and actions—and tried to cover it up, steadying herself under Johnny.

"What do you want, Johnny?" she croaked, finding her voice.

He smiled, devilishly. "Nothing," he said, "for now."

"Than what did you want to talk to me about?" she breathed. Her pulse raced, her nerves going unsteady, and she bit her tongue so that she wouldn't say something she'd regret.