Bruises and Bitemarks

Chapter 24

Eric's POV:

As my eyes suddenly opened, a sharp pain slit into my skull... The unfamiliar feeling of a strong hangover lingered in and on my body, making it feel ever so heavy and unmovable. Did I drink? What happened? 

Oh... I remember. Or well, partially. 

As I regained my senses, the images of the day before flashed in my mind, like an act of cruel revenge on me for everything I had done... For everything, I had done to her. 

The scene played before my eyes, again and again, and I couldn't stand watching Amy's tortured expression, as she sat there on the floor. If only I hadn't been such a coward... If only I went down into the basement earlier, she might have had it better. 

I've always dealt well with the sight of blood, but this was more, Amy didn't do anything, she just sat there, she was... afraid of me. She had done everything I've said, without a question, like a robot, just doing whatever I wished. 

I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to soothe my nerves, and somehow make the pain go away, which at this point could've come from the memory or from the hangover, but I couldn't decide.

I slowly glanced up and looked around my living room. It was completely destroyed, a mess, and I knew why it was this way. 

Amy had tried to kill me, and after she failed to do so, she broke every orchid in the house. I would've let her stab me, but Vincent stopped her. Now she's safe with him. I could never kill Vincent, I mean, he could never kill him... 

My mind kept torturing me with the events of the past days, making me sit through it, see Vincent disappointed eyes sitting on me with such hatred. And I could only understand. Amy was down there for weeks, and since she refused to tell me anything clearly, I can only imagine what I have done to her.

I saw small purple dots on her neck but I couldn't tell if they were marks of choking or hickeys... He would've done both.

But what had hurt most of all, was her face. The way she looked at me, switching between pity, hatred, pain and fear constantly. She could barely walk but she tried to stab me with a butter knife... She obviously could've not thought it would work, but she did it regardless and it broke my heart. She despised me. 

I sighed deeply, looking at the empty bottles next to me on the table... I guess he didn't take the news well either, and that somehow earned a victorious smile from me. It felt utterly great for a second, knowing I made him so furious he even drank. That son of a bitch. 

He told me he would help. He promised. He never said, he would kill and torture the ones I lo...

The ones that I care for. 

As Amy's words and a painful expression flashed in front of me, again and again, I started to feel a strange sensation in my eyes. They were burning with something hot, and my vision blurred, for a moment I was worried I was drugged, but soon enough I had to realize, that my body decided to let a lonely tear run down my face.

I burst into laughter, sounding like a maniac. A tear? Really? 

I couldn't recall a single moment in my life when I was crying, and it felt so ridiculous in the given moment, that I couldn't help but laugh and snicker for a good minute, showing off for my self, how much I have lost my mind.

I reached for my phone and called Vincent as soon as I could. 

The phone forced me to wait quite a long while before I could hear his exhausted, gentle voice. I never had anything like that, ever since I was a boy, my tone was emotionless and cold, sharp. Not that I wanted it to be, but I couldn't help it. Vincent, on the other hand, was a sweetheart, and his voice betrayed that trait so very obviously.