Saving Grace [Completed]

Chapter 3

                    Sam is over again, but this time he brought his son. "Grace, this is Sam's son, Paul." I raise my hand to him and walk past them. I don't have time for this shit. Mom walks over to me. "Grace, Sam and Paul are going to move in. Sam's getting kicked out of his place." I look at her in shock. "Are you fucking kidding me? Mom.. Randy hasn't even been gone that long. Why are you moving in complete strangers? What's wrong with you?" Mom puts her hand behind her neck. "Grace, I'm sorry, but this is the way it's going to be." I throw up my hands. "What ever it's not like I ever have a say in anything anyway. Do what you want." 

                The next day Sam and Paul started moving in their stuff. Mom came over to me, "Grace, Paul is going to have to share a room with you. He was going to share a room with Jake, but Jake says he doesn't want Paul in there when he has Angela over a lot. Sorry baby." I sigh and go into my room to already find Paul's shit on the floor. What ever mom, wait to tell me. I lay on my bed and put my headphones on. Paul stands over me and waves. I open one eye and remove one headphone. "Yeah, hi. I'm busy." I put my head phone back on and close my eyes. I feel something cold against my neck. I open my eyes again. Really? He has a knife to my neck. "Hey, we didn't meet properly. I'm Paul. Do as I fucking say or I'll kill you and your family." I felt my heart drop. My eyes widen and I feel like running away. Wow mom, you picked a real winner of a family. 

                 Even if I wanted to tell on this psycho, he knows where we live now. He slowly puts his hand up my shirt. I close my eyes again and imagine I'm somewhere else. Anywhere. I'm sitting on a beach and I can hear the water hit against the rocks nearby. I can feel the sun beat on my face and I'm laying on my beach towel. I can hear the seagulls flying around me and children laughing. I feel excruciating pain again. He's forced himself inside of me. I try to escape again, but I can't ignore this pain. I try not to scream. He still has the knife against my neck. He's so gross, pimples on his face, curly red hair. Blue eyes, pale, freckles, you know, average creep. He traces the knife down my throat and against my breasts. He traces it down to my stomach and starts to push the tip of the knife into my stomach. 

                 I close my eyes tight and try not to scream. He starts to push the knife downwards and it cuts a slice into my stomach. I scream and he puts his hand over my mouth. "Grace! Baby, you O.K.?" He removes his hand and pushes the knife into my stomach as he stares at me. I look at him and turn my head to the side. I try not to sound in pain, "yeah mom I'm fine!" I can feel the blood pour down my side and I try to put my hand on it. He pulls my hand away and licks the blood off. I wince and flash him a look of disgust. What kind of freak is this? He finishes and leaves me there pantsless, bleeding, shameful on my bed. I start to cry and pull my pants back on. I was a virgin about a week ago, and now I've been raped three times, not including my uncle when I was five. Ten years later, I'm still being treated like a goddamn sex doll. 

                I shower away the shame and disgust and go back to my room to finish off that bottle of vodka Jake bought me. Paul is laying in his bed jerking off while looking at me. "Mmm.. you felt so good." I pop a few more oxy and notice I'm out again. I'm feeling numb. I'm feeling pretty damn good. All I can think about right now is that damn blade. I go into the bathroom and pull it out. I feel the edge. I rub the stained blood along the blade. I pull down my pants and push and slid as hard as I can. I feel that sweet sting. I close my eyes and hold the knife in my hand. I bit my lip and do another slice, this time quick and hard. I'm bleeding pretty good this time. I wipe the blood and feel it between my fingertips. I watch as it drips down my leg. I separate the cut to create a better stream. I sit up and let the blood drip down onto the floor. It's making a pretty good puddle. 

               I decide to patch myself up when I start to feel pretty dizzy. Fuck it. I grab the knife and take a handful of oxy. I breath in.. breath out.. breath in.. then I pull my hand out and stab the knife into my stomach. I gasp. The pain.. it feels so good, but this isn't right. I'm bleeding more than usual. I pull the knife out and more blood gushes out. I put my hand over the cut and start to panic. I grab a towel and push it into my stomach. Fuck. I'm going to be in so much fucking trouble. I grab another handful of oxy and chug down some more vodka. I can't breath. Everything is starting to go black. I can't focus. Fuck. What did I do?