Sweet Truths & Silent Lies ✔️

CHAPTER 06 - ❝nightmare❞

CHAPTER SIX │ NIGHTMARE

SCARLETT DEL GATO

My eyelids felt heavy tonight but despite the exhaustion I felt from not sleeping a lot in the last couple of days, I couldn’t get myself to actually close my eyes. My eyes kept shutting involuntary, though, even when I didn’t want them to.

I didn’t want to risk falling asleep. Not while they were in this house with me.

I was in the same environment as the same people who murdered my brother and I didn’t trust Giovanni one bit. He won’t hesitate to kill me in my sleep as soon as I drift off, so I kept them wide open, slapping myself awake every so often to keep myself from actually drifting off to sleep.

When I glanced at myself in the full-length mirror the other day in the bathroom, my eyes were red-rimmed and I had dark bags underneath my eyes.

The thick comforter was draped over my chest and the rest of my body and it rested right underneath my chin to keep me warm inside the numbingly cold room. As I was laying in the bed, I stared at the ceiling fan and the blades as they kept going around and around in circles, but it was a mistake, because once I focused on the blades going around in circles, my eyelids started to flutter, and then they closed.

The fight to stay awake was lost and I felt myself being pulled into the darkness.

• • •

“Please.” I pleaded. I don’t know who I was pleading to, but I pleaded nonetheless. “Please don’t shoot him.”

There was a dark figuring looming over my brother’s bloodied and bruised up frame. He was leaning in the stool, trying to keep himself upright but at the same time trying hard not to totter over.

The dark figure didn’t turn around when he started to speak.

“Take her to her room. We don’t want her to see this, now do we?”

Someone snaked their hands around my body and caged me inside their arms as I was being pulled out of the kitchen.

I tried to grab hold of the wall, but my fingers barely grazed it and I stopped trying to escape the figure who had their arms wrapped around my torso.

It was a lost cause.

I let the figure drag me away.

I should’ve fought harder to stay in the kitchen.

I should’ve helped my brother, but the figure and his grip were too strong.

The figure kept me in place. I could barely move. I could barely breathe.

I looked down at the arm around my torso and saw a white pistol tattooed onto the figure’s his wrist. The figure must’ve seen me looking at the tattoo, because his grip around my torso started to tighten. I couldn’t breathe, but the more I think about it, the more I started to realise that I was being choked—my lungs couldn’t get any air and every time I exhaled, the figure’s grip tightened. It was like a snake had wrapped its body around mine, and the grip kept tightening.