Fan Fiction - Picture Perfect Chapter Nineteen
I felt someone grab hold of my arm violently, straining my movement. They pulled me around and pushed me against the door. I saw him. Someone I thought I’d never see again.
His cold strong breath hit my face as the anger in his eyes grew stronger. His grip on my arms became strangling and intensely draining the blood from my palms. I could feel his heart beat as he pressed his chest against mine and I could hear his jaws clamp and his teeth grit.
“I love it when you’re scared,” he whispered.
I opened my mouth to scream but his hand swiftly covered my chin and sealed my lips before I could alarm anyone.
“I asked you nicely the first time,” he continued, “but now I’m going to have to do it with force.”
I felt my chest collapse and began feeling light headed. He removed his hand from my face but kept firm grip on arms.
“Open it,” he demanded.
I refused to hesitate and turned the key. The door swung open revealing a vacuum of stale air and dust.
“Get in, without a word.”
I followed everything he said as he held back on to me with one fist. He commanded me to sit on the couch and perched himself on the coffee table opposite.
I could see him now clearer, his colourless eyes staring down through me. He rubbed the drops of sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand before firmly placing it on my knee, assuring I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything.
“Why, why…why are you here?” I asked fearfully watching his hand shaking slightly.
“You thought you could walk out on me easy, just like that,” he responded failing to answer my concerns.
“What do you want from me?”
“Same thing you do.”
I was sure before I left the hospital I knew not what I wanted let alone what someone else desired.
“What?” I almost hesitated to question.
“Bre, as much as you took away from me and ate at me, I still want you.”
At this I was confused. I never knew the man nor intended to. I only ever saw him when he approached me with his demanding ways telling me to get in the car.
My mouth ran dry. I was beginning to panic. I didn’t know what he wanted from me.
“You look sick, you want some water?” he asked. His tone of aggressiveness happened to diminish into thin air as he attempted to aid. I put aside the reason of his being here and answered with my intentions.
“Mmhm,” I quietly mouthed back nodding in distress.
He instantly retaliated making his way to the burnt black soot covered kitchen.
I looked around for any route of escape but the door was locked, the shutters drawn down and the only light coming from the numbers brightly indicating the DVD had been still playing throughout my whole absence.
My breathing rapidly increased as I heard the tap gush behind me and the fridge door close. I avoided looking back at him letting my eyes fall to my feet.
My home phone was on the cold wood floors, easily mistaken for an abstract ornament of some sort. I turned the contraption on its back and quickly hit redial, not knowing who I last called. I bit my bottom lip hoping I could whisper into it, just a few words. A few words to save my life.
I heard his footsteps approach, his heavy panting becoming a ringing in my right ear. Instantly I kicked the phone under the sofa weakening the static noise keeping myself in suspense to who on the other line had my life in their hands.
“You always look pretty, especially when you’re scared. I love it,” he mentioned returning to his sickening hoarse voice.
“Who are you?” I asked with the glass of water in my hand its ripples mimicking the tremors in my hand.
“Who am I? Who are you to play around with me like you did? Thought you could leave the mess for your rich-ass father’s maids to clean,” the man alluded. At this I could not comprehend what this man meant. Was this my problem? My fathers? What is the problem? What does he want from me?
“I-I-I don’t know what you mean,” I innocently covered.
He scoffed to himself rolling his eyes, “Sure. Tie me around your little finger then leave me and go in search for your long lost sister,” he paused, “… BULLSHIT!”
His shouting startled the entire apartment even through the silence afterwards. The vases were still waddling on their bases and the painting on the walls disturbed.
“Who are you talking about?” I further questioned.
“Don’t play stupid with me Bre. I’m not good enough. I’m not rich enough. I’m not anything to you.”
“I… I honestly don’t know- ”
My mouth was covered again my his rough hands, clogging my breath.
“I’m sick of this!” he shouted.
His other hand slowly progressed further up from my knee, I had noticed it’s every movement before I shook his filthy palms off me. He instantly responded pushing my shoulder back until I slouched on the sofa as I squealed simultaneously his occupied hand still covering my mouth. His free hand now sat on my lower chest shifting with my deep breathes.
“Quiet now, I don’t want to start more than I need…,” he drifted moving his hand from my mouth and running his dirty fingers down my lips.
He was now beside me, no distance between his hip and mine.
“Your wealthy ways can’t get you out of this now, can they?” he continued implying the idea of my supposed wealth. With that notion, he slipped his sweater off revealing a white tee underneath.
He shifted closer, so close I could feel his breath hit my bare neck.
I refused to look at him, slowing moving away.
“You can’t go anywhere. Not until I’m done with you.”
I feigned the brooding state I was in keeping my body nonchalant, soothing the deadly palpitations of my heart. I felt complied to hear through his foreboding terrors and inexorable actions towards me. He now had a cloth twisted and tied around my head through my mouth restricting my aptitude of shouting. I tried shaking my head, squealing and kicking in disbelief pushing his cold urges off me but he now had me encased in his being. Above me, he was panting like a possessed mad canine his knees on either side on my hips. The unbeknownst man inched in hastily attempting to instigate the means of his wrong doings. His hand made his way down my chest, gripping my cardigan trying to unbutton it provocatively. At doing so I pushed my weak elbow in to his rib cage, winding him until he pulled off me and began to shout profusely. He silently hissed at the sound of commotion outside remembering the prospect of others in the complex.
“Don’t make things harder for yourself,” he whispered as he sat beside me making this gesture the most chaste he made since.
But that notion didn’t last long before his perverted train of thoughts resurfaced. He had either hand on my wrists thinking I would give up the battle, but he held securely creating red rings on my cuffs making my fingertips turn to an austere shade of blue. I could not yell nor defend my weak self. The only sound you could here was the beating of his heart and the beating of mine. How mine skipped like a rabbit and how his thudded, a hammer against cloth.
I stopped and began weeping revealing the first signs of weakness to him. I began to leave my body, I began to inhabit the air and the silence. At this point I had given up. He was to do his intentions, then perhaps kill me. He was going to kill me but what I hadn’t realised was I was already a feeble animal dying.
I heard the screech of old brass on decaying wood. The man twitched, his body jolted off mine.
“Who is that?” he hissed at me.
“I-I don’t know,” I replied shaking in fear.
He approached the door, then hesitating realising the affects if he did so.
“Tell them to go,” he commanded.
I didn’t react.
“Tell them you’re fine,” he commanded persistently this time louder than before to the extent that I felt the blood under my skin shake and boil.
I could hear the foggy blocked off noise of someone’s uncertainty behind the door, “who’s in there?”
He grabbed me from behind my neck and forced me to the door. His clench tightened as I attempted to pull back.
“I said,” he persisted, “to tell them you’re fine.”
At this point he had me only inches away from the door, his first fingers placed on the two circulatory veins on my neck. If he hadn’t done this before, he was well prepared.
I tried to hesitate, weeping and muttering the words “no, please.”
He hadn’t thought twice about his next notion, he pushed me to the door; my cheek pressed on the wood blinding and deafening my left side.
The man moved in closer until his wet lips were at my vacant ear, “say it.”
“I’m fine, just go,” I managed to say my eyes spilling.
I heard the footsteps on the opposite side fade away.
If you still don’t know who ‘he’ is click here