Sorrry for the waiiitttt beautifuulllsss xx
DEDICATED TO jls123 for the coverr >> thanks so much!
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...but before I even went to step toward the flowing curtains swaying from the wind, my eyes landed on my bed.
And on a piece of paper.
With my father’s distinctive writing on it…
~~
You've always been good at hiding baby, but I've always been better at seeking remember?
Sick. I felt sick.
I find myself unconsciously shutting and locking the door. Eyes on the thin white paper, lone and obvious against the purple covers of my bed...
He knew where I was... He knew.
And he's coming.
He's coming.
He's coming.
A strangled helpless noise squeezes out of my throat and I was in the bathroom pulling out scissors without even thinking.
Fear and nausea pulsing through my body and making me snatch up the paper.
He knew.
He's coming.
I was shaking so badly by now I could barely walk toward the open balcony, didn't hear the knocking on my bedroom door or place the person calling for me.
He's coming.
I had the small pieces of paper in my hands now, holding them securely as the wind tried to blow them away.
Putting the pieces in my left hand I turned it so it was palm up before noticing something familiar, something soothing almost compared to the sickening thing forming within me.
Blood. There was blood on my wrist. Blood dripping down and noticeable against my pale white skin. So much blood...
Giggling I fell back against the sun chair behind me, the snow seeping into my clothes, hand opening and finally letting the papers fly away. Just as the door burst open. Just as unconsciousness ate at me.
'Claire!'
But the papers had gone. Gone along with any hope I had of being normal. So I closed my eyes peacefully, despite the hands that shook my shoulders. Despite the sound of their own fear as they said something over and over.
He's coming.
And he thinks it's all a game.
‘Don't let him take me.’ A small voice said, so soft and vulnerable it was almost terrifying. Had that been my voice? I couldn’t be too sure.
‘What did it say Claire?’ Mack was asking quietly for the fifth time when, unfortunately, I had woken up the next day to find myself in a familiar purple bed, wrist wrapped in bandages that showed red from what I had done.
I stared up at the ceiling like I'd been doing for hours now since I had awoken.
‘Claire. What did it say?’ he asks slowly standing up this time from where he sat on a seat beside me to lean against the side of the bed, shifting the bed so I almost rolled over considering how light I am.
I ignored him digging my nails on my right hand into my palm.
He’s coming.
Giving an exasperated sigh Mack stands up straight again to run a hand through his hair unruly blonde hair, something he does when he’s frustrated or angry. I cringe slightly, almost unnoticeably.
YOU ARE READING
Saved By You
Teen FictionAfter her mother runs away Claire is left to face her abusive alcoholic father alone. Not only that, but her days to live are cut short. She's an outcast and a loser at school who everyone supposedly hates and no one dares to go near. But what happe...
