Atlas Grove, once a dancer with dreams of dancing under the stars, now lives petrified in the shadows of abuse. To escape her living nightmare she must keep her head down and work hard, being her senior year this is her last chance to get out. Altho...
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(Trigger warning, this chapter might be very distressing for some people! Please read on with caution!)
That voice.
The voice that still has me in a chokehold, one of the darkest monsters in my nightmares that drags me deep down into the pits of hell each night. It's been years since it's gone through me, freezing my very veins, causing riots in my stomach but I'm back to feeling like a child, petrified of the very vowels that come from his mouth.
His face is rugged, a scar runs across his cheek and one on his neck. His eyes are soulless scattering like tiny spiders across my skin. I resist the urge to scratch all over, rid my skin of the small creatures that linger in his eyes. He's dressed in smart attire, a black button-down shirt and blazer, black pants and dress shoes. Far from the man I remember.
A cigarette droops from his mouth, the cherry red glow casting light on his five o'clock shadow. It's like someone just dumped a bucket of ice water on me. This man is not the one I knew, this man is much much worse. There's an even darker energy surrounding him. I always knew he was evil but maybe the drinking took away the cunningly smart part of his brain. He doesn't look drunk now however, he seems sharp and alert sizing me up like a player in a game I'm not sure I signed up for. My pulse hammers in my ears, fingers clammy and shaking against the material of my dress.
He takes a few steps towards me, the music from the barn thumping distortedly behind us.
"End the call. Say nothing." He looks towards my phone hanging limply in my hand. Trembling, I cut the call off, "Good girl, now throw it on the ground." I do as he says, the quicker this is over with the quicker he'll go. He takes another step towards me and I will myself not to move as he brushes a stained finger against my cheek. "Eighteen today, how fortunate."
Bile rises in my throat begging for release, but this man feeds off of fear and I refuse to give him any more ammunition.
"What do you want." My voice comes out a little louder than a squeak, "I don't have any money."
He huffs a laugh, his posture is one of authority and dominance. Stupid Atlas, of course, it's not money he's after.
"I wonder how proud your mother would have been. Leaving her to die whilst you go and live her dream."
"Don't you dare say another word about her." My words are laced with a venom that's been brewing for years. "What. Do. You. Want." I repeat again, this time he turns and actually looks at me. He drops the cigarette to the ground and grinds it into the earth. Eyes narrowed he sighs, a calculating glance falls over my face.
"What I want, daughter dearest, is to finish what I started all those years ago. Take back the years I lost in prison, thanks to you
of course." He rubs the shadow on his jaw, a small smirk crests his lips.
