Short stories\prompts

Anxiety

"The delicate release of death," he whispered.
He rested his hands in my shoulders, squeezing gently.
  "Is it not difficult to live?" He mused, "with the ever going voices going to war in that beautiful head of yours." I sat in the chair and waited. My chest heavy and tears burned my eyes. I said nothing.
  "What have you even accomplished in these long sixteen years?" He paused. "Nothing." His tone was sharp, he almost spit the word towards me.
  "Of course with my help... you would do the world a favor," he sang into my ear. I straightened my back and continued to look forward. The room darker than black with a single spotlight on me. sweat trickled down my face and back, I wear a sweatshirt and sweatpants to hide the scars. His words cut hard into me.
"Does your family know about her? She is quite the beauty," he dug his nails into my skin, "What a shame you're hiding her, and for what? Fear? Why can't you come out with it!?" He let go and I felt myself breath.
  "She loves you, she really does, but how long will that last is up for debate." His voice echoed in the room. Nothing else could be heard.
"Do your parents listen to you? Can they hear your cries for help, do they see the lifelessness in your eyes, have they reached out to hold you while you weep?" I felt more tears crawl down my cheeks, I grabbed the chair to keep steady. I was failing this. I was alone.
"Pathetic." He spat.
I tried to keep him hidden, not let anyone see how he controlled me.
I closed my eyes and screamed. I screamed until my throat burned.
   I felt hands reach for my face, but they were soft, they wiped the tears away, a soft voice by my ear.
"I should have come to you, I should have told you, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
  The hands, the soft, soft hands reached for mine. They led me to a door, light shining behind it.
"It's going to work out, you are going to be okay," the soft voice said.