ISABELLA The Forgotten One

I I I

3

The cold dampness of the air throws me off for a second. I pull my jean jacket over me.

I trudge down the dark, wet alley. My boots make a satisfying squish sound, as I walk. The drizzle makes a plop sound every time it hits a growing puddle.

The male species tonight...

Two wanted to get in my pants...one left this tugging feeling on my heart. Making me more curious than ever.

I relax as the droplets of the water fall, cooling me down. The rain relaxes me. I love the rain.

I love the way it makes the sky look, so dark...but, soft.

I guess tonight will be another one of those nights. I don't smoke cigarettes, to deal with stress.

I slit my wrist and lay in the bathtub waiting for me to bleed out. I do this when I have a day like this.

But, as you can see I haven't succeeded yet.

I'm still here. I go unconscious. Waking up the next morning, in a pool of pink water.

I know death is a scary thing for most people. Not me. After a while, I just stopped caring. I mean, what is there to live for anymore?

The only people I loved or cared about are gone.

Plus. We all die...sooner, or later.

We deserve it too.

I'm just empty inside.

A sharp pain in my head makes me stop.

I take a deep breath when I feel someone's eyes on me. I turn around quickly ignoring my pain.

Seeing five tall male figures standing there. My stomach sinks.

Now, I wish I didn't look. I don't know what they want and I want to keep it that way.

Growing extremely scared, my mind scrambles. I turn immediately running the opposite way.

Stopping dead in my tracks as a tall sluggish figure appears on the other end.

Turning back to the five figures that are getting closer.

Fuck!

I look back and forth watching them all move closer.

I relax my body as the thought comes across my mind.

If I were to die right now.

Who would care? I wouldn't care. I know my parents wouldn't, they're already gone.

Maybe, I should give up and join them up there.

I let out a gasp, his familiar hand grips the back of my head pulling my hair.

I start pulling away just to become trapped against a wall.

I open my mouth to scream, a big hand covers my mouth.

I don't stop letting out big screams even though they're muffled.

Moving closer to my face, his breathe reeks of alcohol.

"What are you doing tonight?" He repeats the question. I freeze, it all suddenly becoming real.

Tears tickle my cheeks.

He lets go of my hair to grab my neck.

I look up seeing one of his friends' hands reaching out.

They take my shirt tearing it off. I squirm and scream.

Shivering at the coldness of the air, and their eyes. My exposed body for the whole world to see.

I shut my eyes tight, I need to think.

There's six of them, one of me. I struggle to calm my breathing as my head pounds harder.

Why did they have to come back?

I wish Bryan was here.

One of them pulls a shiny object from their pocket.

I look down at it with furrowed eyebrows. Starting to squirm more and cry harder.

Nevermind.

I don't want to die, like this.

He hands it to the man holding me down.

I gasp for air as he lets go of my neck taking the object.

He places it in front of my stomach.

I yell out a muffled, "Stop! Please! Stop!"

He moves his hand from my mouth. Smirking making my stomach twist.

"Repeat that?" He asks playfully, the smirk still covers his drowsy face.

Looking him in the eyes, he knows what I said, he just wants me to repeat it.

"Please stop..." I say shaking under his form.

Starting to cough from choking on my own spit. "I'll- I'll do anything- please- please don't kill me."

He smiles at me grabbing my bottom aggressively. He pulls me closer to him making my skin crawl.

I look behind him and the five other men are gone.

I look around at the end of the alley, seeing the familiar dark figure again.

Suddenly I'm curious.

He just stands there like a ghoul.

He seems like a gigantic threat. I still want to get close... to figure him out, dissect him.

Is he going to help me or just watch? His dark eyes stare back.

It feels like he's reading me or looking into my soul.

I look down at my stomach, the knife still hovers near it. Looking back into the rough man's eyes.

He kisses my neck.

I turn way staring at him. He's still standing there and just watches.

Mouthing out 'help' to him, he still doesn't move.

Maybe he is a ghost.

Maybe.

Am I already dead?

The man pulls away, I look at him hungrily.

Prying my next words out of myself. "Don't stop." I whisper. His scent, the temperature, my headache; it all makes me feel all queasy.

He narrows his eyes at me, turning to look over his shoulder.

I grab his face kissing him deeply. The alcohol makes me nauseous.

He pushes me against the wall looking.

Seeing the phantom...