Savior

Chp. 6

Phelia

"Stand up."

He was holding a mucky green t-shirt and a grey skirt for me to wear. It appeared to be years older than me. Maybe it was the color but I could tell it wasn't entirely new.

The edges were worn and piling of fuzzies. But aside from its beated look, it had the relaxing smell of fresh laundry.

I couldn't believe how refreshing it felt to wear some clean clothes. My father never allowed me to wear new clothes. It was a waste. That was what he said to me. I would only wear what was given.

My hands were cupping my breasts in attempts to cover them. But as soon as his words hit, my arms raised at the fear of what he would do if I didn't. I didn't need to experience another cut on my body.

The slight bend of my neck made me wince in pain and I hovered beneath him. My hands clenched onto my neck. The carvings he made were pulsing in deep pain.

His hands gripped me by the shoulders to keep me standing. At this rate, I didn't know how long I would be able to stand. My legs were shaking recklessly and they were relying on him.

It was gut wrenching that I had to rely on this man.

When the shirt draped over my naked body, it reached right above the crack of my bottom cheeks. A simple breeze would have them boldly calling for his attention.

But that was not what he focused on. That wasn't what he saw.

His large hands slowly reached for my face until the tips of his fingers grazed my bottom lip. His eyes were settled on them for quite some time, thinking. His eyes then shifted into mine, looking deeply. There was something about it that made me hold my breath. 

But he wasn't looking at me. These eyes didn't seem to be meant for me. His cold, still eyes were replaced by waves of another. 

That was how it appeared to be until his eyes furrowed and he roughly grabbed my arm towards the a room at the end of the long hallway. The door hit against the wall from his push. I was thrown on the floor in front of what appeared to be an old dresser. 

What is he looking for?

He was looking for something in the drawers. I saw his back gently relax. He found what he was looking for.

Lipstick. Lipstick? 

The cap was chipped off from its long use. When he opened it it turned out to be a dark, prune color. So dark it almost looked black. 

My eyes shut tightly when he roughly pressed my cheeks with his hand. The water that failed to dry on my hair dripped onto the floor. One managed to glide down the side of my cheeks and slithered into the corners of my lips. 

A large smile crept up his pale face as he pressed the lipstick on my lips. I turned away causing it to smear. My heart stopped along with his movements. As I anticipated, a harsh slap landing on my cheek but his fingers coiled in my hair. My head yanked back, further opening the slits on my neck. 

My screams merged with his spits of curses. 

His tight hold on me eventually had me tamed as he wanted. His thumb pressed onto my skin to wipe it away. My bruised lips and the bruised color gave me a cruel look. My eyes found its way to myself reflected off the dusty mirror. 

I couldn't recognize the person in it. I couldn't remember how long it had been since I looked at myself like this. My wet curls surrounded my face like waves and a dark shadow laid beneath my eyes.

Pathetic.

Who are you?

"Don't you dare think about crying."

His fingers wiped the tears that managed to escape. My eyes just shook when he touched me. His words weren't enough to stop the tears that already flooded inside me. Just one little prick on my skin would have them pour down my face. I peered up to meet his eyes and I pleaded. 

"Kill me...Please."

It was clear to me that dying would be easier than living like this.

If you asked me to choose between life and death, I would easily choose death. There was no need for hesitation. It was so obvious.

My lips trembled as my words left as just heavy breaths. They were clogged in my throat, suffocating me. I was surprised I was able to say it. 

His fingers stroked the trail from my neck and out to my chin. His next words completely ignored mine. 

"Don't ever cry in front of me."

Hayden

It had been years but there were still traces of her in this house.

How much was left?

Now I was at a point where I was tracing it onto this girl.

I gazed down at Phelia and I couldn't lie. She was looking at me the same way she did. Disgusting and repulsive.

It had my inside churn and I wanted to strangle that thin neck of hers. Have her writhe and cry until there was nothing left for her to pour out. 

My thoughts scattered from her words. She wanted me to kill her. I envisioned it. A little squeeze would crack that neck of hers. But that would stop her forever and I wouldn't be able to see her cry again.

I wanted to see it again even if it disgusted me. It was amusing to have those eyes beg, lips tremble, and scream my name.

I glanced up at the ceiling above me.

Watch me.