it was another year. she had a new dress again. it was red this time. it looked like the wine in the wine glass he had thrown at her before. she hated the color red.
she resumed her praying to the stars. she had started last year. she knew that it was useless.
even if there was a god, he wouldn't listen to her. sometimes she hoped that there wasn't a god. even if that meant that the hours spent besides the window were useless. because if there was a god, why didn't he come? was she not worth the trouble?
she heard her father pray sometimes to a god. she liked to think that her god was a different one. she didn't like the idea that they talked to the same person. he read a thick book while he did it. she knew because he had hit her with it when she first saw him praying at night.
she wondered what somebody like him would want. she wondered if he got it.
she ate the last piece of chocolate on her windowsill. her fingers shook as she did. she wondered how she would get more. chocolate was worth the punishment when he found out. she liked chocolate. but only the brown chocolate. white chocolate felt fake. she liked brown. brown was real.
she headed down the stairs when she heard his voice start up again. more prayers.
she opened the pantry door in the dining room and took out a single bar. she tucked it inside the pocket of her red dress.
as she headed back up the staircase, she heard the voice stop. she felt her heart pound. she would be caught, she would be caught, she would be caught, caught caught caught.
she was.
it didn't matter how many times he did it, how many times it happened. somehow it hurt every time.
YOU ARE READING
Nemiah
神秘 / 驚悚A Short Story Nemiah. Nemiah. Nemiah. The name echoed in her head. Nemiah, the prey. She, the hunter. TW: Abuse, Death, Blood, Murder
