The Wonderful Story of the Lyling Family

Chapter 5: One Breath at a Time

This chapter gets a little crazy and inappropriate so, be careful. Sweaty palms. Palpitations. Hyperventilation. Shaky fingers. I hide in the corner of my bedroom, avoiding every person in this spinning concrete structure. My window lock clicks.

"How the hell did he get in?!" I whisper to myself.

The glass flies up and shatters. Jumping out is not an option. It's the only thing that's gonna get me out of this mess. Eight sips later, a foot enters the broken frame. Then a leg. Then an arm. A hand, gripping the top rail. I'm too scared to move. Ahead. A foggy but familiar face shakes my memory and kneels down beside me.

"Where did you go? Sixteen shots and you couldn't even stay for dinner?"

"Brett, don't. You know why I left."

"Because of that dipshit? Well sure Aidan was a nice guy, but we have a special-"

He pauses. He took a look around my room. What is he doing? He grabs my vase. He smells them.

"Lovely flowers," he says as he throws them on the ground and swings the vase toward my head.

Unconsciousness. Ripped clothes. Ripped sheets. Ripped mattress. Tied hands. I start to return to reality and think about all the possible ways this brown haired drunken man can kill me. Or maybe he didn't come for that. Maybe... He smiles when he sees me shiver. The A/C has not been too kind this afternoon. He sits on the bed and puts his hand on my thigh.

"You know, I don't even know why we broke up in the first place. How's your head?"

"You've been drinking way too much. But you don't need alcohol to be a creep do you?"

I roll my eyes. Brett scoots closer and puts his hand on my shoulder. He slides it down my arm. He puts my hair behind my ear and wipes a tear running down my cheek.

"Why are you crying baby?"

"Get out of my house."

Should I scream? Or will I make things worse? Should I fight back? I lift my leg attempting to kick him in the ass. He pulls it back down and kisses me. I opened my mouth to scream but he put his hand over it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he says as he pulls a dagger out of his pocket.

"What do you want Brett?"

I know the answer. He looks down then looks back at me. The door handle turns. Brett takes his dagger to the door. The door swings open. The police.

"You called the cops?!"

"How was I supposed to call the cops with my hands tied to the bed?"

He takes the weapon and stabs both policemen. He then goes downstairs. I try to wiggle out of the rope. Why is it so tight? Will I have to live with this the rest of my life? Or maybe there is one way... Brett throws the dagger on the bed. He exits out of my room. Now's my chance. I stretch my foot towards the dagger. Now was the time to show off my soccer skills. I flip the dagger, biting the tang. I'm gonna drop it. Should I? Could I agree to marry him then run away? Could I change my name and move to Mexico? Or should I end it right now? My friends and family would understand. Right? They would do the same thing. I've only dated him for a year and one shot brings back the hell I went through with him. Brett walks to the corner I was hiding in and takes my half bottle of relief that started this mess and chugs it down. He snatches the dagger from my mouth and stabs my knee. I cuss loudly and wait five seconds for my parents to tell me that saying the word was wrong. Silence. I thought my parents were at home. Wait. Why did Brett go downstairs? Did he-?

"Why did you go downstairs?"

He didn't answer.

"What did you do?!"

He's still quiet.

"What did you do to my parents?!"

"They were only a minor set back to our eternal love. Let's just say that the whole thing caused them pain in the chest."

More tears fall down my face.

"Oh, I hate you."

"Not for long. Now we won't have to worry about buying a house and paying bills," he says as he unties me.

"You'll still have to pay bills."

"Not if I kill the man that makes me."

"You're insane."

"No, just considerate."

My friends won't mind if I end it right? They'll get why I did it. I can't live with this for the rest of my life. I need to die. He takes me downstairs to see my parents' lifeless bodies. I will get out of this, one breath at a time.

In Memory of Sarah Johnson, Derek Johnson, and Layla Lyling