Mr. Kidnapper [Kellic] [Book 1]

Chapter 16 - Bruised, Beaten, and Bloody

« Vic »

Zack told me I should go and check on Kellin after about an hour and a half. As I passed through the living room, I noticed that he broke a lamp and tracked some of the glass down the hallway; it probably got stuck in his boots when he went into the bedroom. I noticed a slight crack in the bathroom door, just about kicking-level for him.

When I peeked into the room, I saw Kellin glaring at the wall, facing the door. He had tears on his cheeks. He appeared to be spacing out. I hesitantly stepped into the room and shut the door. His eyes flickered up to me, and the glare held strong. Was he mad at me? What did I do?

Kellin got up and stalked over to me. Before I could move, something hit me in the eye, knocking me back onto the ground. Kellin just hit me. I felt something hit my side. Kellin just kicked me. I felt someone grab my hair and yank before they let go. Kellin just pulled my hair.

It was like my nightmare.

Tears rolls freely down my face. Kellin kept attacking me; punching me, kicking me, and every other physical action he could do with his own limbs. He would scream in anger occasionally. He was probably mad at me. What did I say? What did I do? Did I fuck up like I always did?

Eventually, his rage ceased, and he leaned on his forearms against the wall on the other side of the room. The only sound in the room was his heavy breathing. After trying desperately to hold it in, I ended up starting to cry, letting painful sobs leave my lips. Kellin leaned the top of his head against the wall and looked over at me, regret clear and evident in his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I wheezed; it was extremely hard to breathe right now. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I just kept repeating ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again, getting more breathless every time. Kellin pushed himself off the wall and started walking over to me, but I let out a strangled cry in fear.

He instantly stopped at the edge of the bed. I wanted to move; I wanted to curl into a ball; I wanted to hide from him, but I couldn’t. I was in too much pain. It was unbearable. It was so bad, in fact, that I thought I was going to pass out. The waterworks kept coming, as did the apologizes and wheezing.

Kellin walked the rest of the distance over to me, disregarding the whimpers of protest that came from my beaten and bruised body. He carefully lifted me up–still causing me pain, but I didn’t dare to say anything–and put me down on the bed, leaving the room in a hurry. When he returned, he had a washcloth, Ace bandages, a bag of ice, and… an inhaler?

Putting the stuff on the table beside the bed, Kellin climbed onto the bed over me, straddling my body. I whimpered and turned my head away, but he gently took my chin in his fingers and made me look at him. I kept my eyes shut tightly as he dabbed my face with the slightly damp washcloth; it was extremely painful, but I didn’t admit it.

Once he was done with that, he gently pulled my shirt over my head, much against my will. I thrashed around and tried to push him off, but I stopped when he raised his fist in anger again. I began to breathe hard, which made my body ache. Kellin quickly lowered his hand and finally got my shirt off.