You Can't Come Back

Hearts On Fire

*Jean's POV*

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!!! YOU'RE SUCH A SELFISH LITTLE BITCH!!" He screamed, tears in his green orbs, showing a mixer of hate and anger. I am standing weakly in front of him, tears in my own eyes. If only that boy knew.

"SHE HAD IT COMING! SHE DESERVED TO ROT IN HELL!!" I shoot back at him through sobs. "AND YOU CALL ME A BITCH?!" My hands were trebling in rage and I'm sure Harry was the same.

"YOU FUCKING MURDERED HER!"

"I HAD TO HARRY!" I cry. "If only you understood."

"THEN MAKE ME UNDERSTAND!" He shouts, "WHAT WAS SO BAD THAT COST HER LIFE?!" I try not to flinch.

"You-" I stop a sob from coming up my throat.

"I what?!" He yells pinning me against the wall, spitting as he talks. His tear drops on my shirt as I stand there at a loss for words. "What. Did. I. Do." He seethes, his teeth tightly clenched. "Fucking answer me when I talk to you!" His hand connects to my cheek.

"You- you wouldn't believe me if I told you." I sob, saying the truth as my cheek throbs.

"BULLSHIT!!!" He spits. "YOU KNOW WHAT?! I'M DONE!" He barges out of the kitchen and into the hall. I basically run after him at his fast pace.

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!" I throw my hands in the air, annoyed still chasing after him, trying hard not to cry.

ANYWHERE BUT HERE!" He turns around on his heel and looks me in the in the eyes. "But don't worry," His voice was deep and warning as his body pressed up against me pinning me again to the door. "I'll come back. And when I do, you better watch that pretty little ass of yours." And with that, my brother barged out of the building leaving me, his fifteen year old sister, to face the sick cruel world.

Alone.

****************

I wake up with warm, salty tears flowing down my cheeks as many more don't hesitate to add on. Through my blurry vision I look at my digital clock on the dresser reading 6:00am.

Do I have to have the same nightmare every single night?!

"Bloody hell." I sigh wiping my water works away.

I then swing my long, skinny legs out of my bed and onto the cold hardwood floor making me shiver at the sudden change in temperature. Going through the quiet, halls of my empty house is pretty depressing and I wonder what it would be like if he was still here.

Going into the bathroom, I do my business before going into the medicine cabinet pulling out a bar of soap to clean my face with to wash my tear stained cheeks. Call me weird or whatever, but the smell of the Dove soap always relaxes me.

Don't judge me!

I look in the mirror and don't see myself looking back. I see a girl who's broken, hurt, and most of all, depressed. The bags under my eyes have gotten darker, my face is getting thinner too quickly, I no longer have my beautiful dimples that I loved, and my once soft, brunette curly hair has gotten frizzier. I bearly eat anything and if I do, it's forced by someone. The result of that, my body is a total hour glass. My skin is unattractively tight around my ribs and my thighs are a tad bigger than my stomach so it looks like my thighs are popped out of their sockets. I look so ratchet and destroyed. I even disgust myself. I run my finger right under my eye looking at the scar that laid there from a knife.

I pick up my phone with a shaky hand and speed dial my boyfriend, Conner.

Conner has always been the best boyfriend to me. About a year before he left me, Conner and I secretly started dating behind his back. After he left me, I spilled everything to Conner and he was so understanding about it. He wasn't the least bit effected that I am a murderer, I mean, of course it was all of the sudden so he was a bit stunned but after I explained to him the reasoning, he didn't judge me. We are so in love it's like we can't even go twenty four hours without communicating in any way. He's is so supportive and basically your dream boyfriend. He has beautiful dirty blonde hair, a bit on the darker side, styled in an adorable quiff that he runs his hand through every time he's stressed or worried which is quite attractive may I add, emerald green eyes exactly like mine, a couple inches taller than me, strong arms and a toned chest which he always shows off by wearing muscle shirts, tan, and many tattoos on his arms and chest which are so hot on him. He's basically the high school 'bad boy.' Just think of your typical bad boy, black muscle shirts, ripped jeans, sneakers, tattoos here and there on his arms, beanies, piercings, sexy as hell, that sort of thing mixed with a fun, lovey, teasey, five year old. That's Conner. I just love him to bits but do nothing to show how much I truly love him or how lucky I am to be with him. I feel like an awful selfish girlfriend but I can't help it. My life has been a wreck without him and I just can't do anything besides drown in my own self pity.