Deciding My Direction (on hold to edit)

Running From Lions

The door slammed shut, waking me up from my nap in my room. I bolted upwards, knowing I needed to make dinner. I shot out my room, racing into the livingroom.

He stopped me in my tracks.

My eyes widened, my bottom lip trembling as he walked towards me. He smirked, one step after another, the knife in his hand was the only thing I could look at. I backed up, running into the couch.

I knew I shouldn't have gone. I knew it. I kenw I should've stayed here and made dinner and let him hit me. I knew I should've just told them no. Why don't I listen? I shouldn't have run from it.

"Come here, whore." He snarled, and I moved from the knife to his face.

"P-please. Please." I cried, tears welling in my eyes.

"Don't you fucking cry. You have no reason. You deserve this." He snapped, shoving me so I fell onto the couch, my back bouncing lightly.

He tossed my legs off the side, then the rest of me. I clenched my teeth tightly, my jaw aching as a giant bruise hit the corner of the coffee table. I looked up at me, scrambling to get up off my back. His boot slammed into my shoudler, shoving me back down.

He pressed down roughly, a bruise already forming. I hissed in pain, closing my eyes and waited. I was hoping he was just going to hit me a few times and maybe only cut me once, but I knew he was going to kill me. I knew I wasn't going to get out of this one.

"I'm sorry." I whimpered, opening my eyes slightly.

"No you're not. You're a selfish disgrace who don't deserve anyone. Doesn't deserve to have someone pretend to care." He snarled, the words slurring together.

"Please. Please don't. I'm so sorry." I mumbled, going to cover my face with my hands to hide my tears. His other foot came down on one of my wrists, pain shooting through it, and I knew he had broken it, amongst opening some of the fresher cuts again.

"You deserve all of this pain. You need it. You killed your mother." He yelled, and I let the tears fall.

"Quit crying!" He yelled even louder, making a sob escape my lips. The foot on my shoulder moved, hitting me in the side of the head roughly. My eyes were unfocusing, little black dots forming over him standing above me. I blinked, trying to make myself focus and for the dots to go away.

"Don't you dare pass out. If you do I'll kill you." The words send a chill down my spine, and I kept my eyes open wide.

"I'm sorry." I whispered. He bent down, one knee crushing my chest and the other keeping my hip placing firmly to the ground. He yanked up my shirt some, leaving it just under my bra.

"You're so goddamn fat. Look at this! You're disgusting. Fat. Scarred. Who the hell would want you? You're ugly too." He snapped, the knife grazing my stomach.

"I know." I said quietly, and he pressed his knee down on my chest more, making it difficult to breath.

"Did I say you could speak?" I shook my head, closing my eyes again.

"So what are you?" He asked me, and I opened my eyes.

"Ugly. Fat. Useless. Disgusting."

"And?" He smirked, trailing the blade on my stomach over countless bruises.

"Bruised. Scarred. Worthless." I mumbled, opening my eyes a little to see him smirk and nod.

"Thats exactly right. Now...All I gotsa do is pick one..." He mumbled, and I tried to see what he was doing to my stomach.

"W-what?"

"How about all of them?" He smirked, then the knife cut into my skin, drawing lines as I gasped in pain. I shut my eyes tightly, pressing my head agaisnt the carpeted floor. No matter how many times I had dragged a blade across my skin, no matter how deep, this was different. This was comepletely different.