since eighth grade. → markiplier

Chapter Nine: Pain

Chapter Nine: Pain

 WARNING: DARK CHAPTER

Ellie

I register a painful throb in my head, and, instinctively, my hand flies up to it. I let out a groan, using my other hand to support myself as I turn over on my side.

“Oh, fuck.” I mutter, feeling pains under my arms from where I presume somebody dragged me. My head kills like a bitch, stabbing pains racking me every second.

“What did I tell you about language?” Says a familiar, husky voice. I freeze, only moving to clutch my head again as the pain refuses to ebb.

“What did you do to me?” I croak, my voice weak and scratchy.

“That’s no longer important. What does matter, though, is that you’re here now,” He says, and I glance around me. From the looks of things, it’s the attic to his house. Man, what? “And you’re my daughter. You love me, yes? You’d never leave.” He tells me, his tone desperate and agonizing. I look up at him from a cluster of dust on the wooden floor beneath me to see if he is lying. But, when I look into his eyes, I see the painful truth. Well, it’d only be fair to be honest back.

“I don’t love you,” I spit, landing with a thump on the creaking floor again as the pain that travels through my body becomes a little too much to fight against. “And you better tell me how the fu-”

“Language!” He yells, jumping towards me. I let out a yelp as he does so, feeling a familiar shiver of fear jolt down my spine as he balls up my shirt in his fists and pulls me closer to his face. I can see his eyes clearly, now, clouded by his own lies and black hole of insanity. What drew him to this? What part of him told him that grieving over my mother’s death was to… do horrible things to me and Caleb? He snarls, releasing me after shoving me harshly away.

“Bastard.” I mutter, wiping my mouth. I find dried blood on my upper lip and I frown. Where did this come from?

It is at that moment when everything comes back to me like a tidal wave of memories, crashing over me and sending me whirling in the violent waves. Him in the car, the can of Chloroform he used to knock me out, when he told me what he did to Caleb.

A name swims to mind, and I feel a balloon of hope swell up inside of me for a split second. I fumble around with my pockets in my jacket and jeans, hoping to clasp onto the device. A grin grows on my father’s face.

“Fucker.” I say, realizing that he must have taken the phone. Do I regret cursing again?  Yes and no. First of all, I have every right to call him every name under the sun. Second, I can do what the hell I want to. Although, I do fear another one of his… famous beatings.

“You ought to wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Yeah? You ought to choke to death on the stuff.” I spit back, resting my hands on my knees. I look up to him, watching as rage washes over his features. He clenches his jaw, throwing something onto the floor in a fit of anger before storming out and down the attic stairs. He locks the door, firmly, behind him.