I quickly shake my head, which he raises an eye brow to but doesn't question.
He straightens up, never removing his gaze from me before stepping closer, forcing me to step back. He takes another and again, I step away. Seth keeps approaching me, hi...
"At some point, you have to stop running and turn around and face whoever wants you dead. The hard thing is finding the courage to do it." ― Suzanne Collins,Catching Fire
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*WARNING: Some pretty harsh stuff in this chapter. slightly mature, and violence. Unable to mark off in this chapter so please proceed with caution if you dislike those types of scenes.*
I was panting, biting my lip so hard that I tasted blood. Not that it mattered by this point. My tears had long ago started and I couldn't stop them streaming down my face, my body trembling in cold, pain and fear.
I squinted up through one eye – the other was swollen and sore – to see Alley standing beside the door, refusing to look at me, something akin to regret maybe on his face? He hadn't spoken another word since he asked how far along I was. He also had not come near or touched me, instead flinching every so often at the sound of my cries or screams.
Although I didn't understand why, he himself had done much of the same things to me, over and over again through out our relationship, beating me into line, into a shape that I couldn't recognise as myself. A shape that Seth had found, and taken. Taken and slowly began to smooth out my edges again. I was beginning to find myself again the more he carefully worked with me. But I would never be the same, and that was evident in the rough edges, the flaws that jutted out sharply.
I was brought from my wandering thoughts with a clatter as Frankie threw down a knife onto the table in a huff. It was glossy and red, the colour running from the blade and pooling on the table a little. I could feel the warm liquid rolling down my legs and soaking my leggings and socks.
So far, not much had been done to me. I had been slapped around a little to begin with. Frankie had seemed surprised that a little slapping about hadn't fazed me. I had looked him straight in the eye silently, glaring up at him.
That's when he started to throw punches to my face. Then, with a gleefulness that actually surprised me, he retrieved tools from the drawers, laying them out on the table and dragging it closer to me and began using the knife, stabbing into my legs.
A hand tangled in my hair, gripping tightly and yanked my head back with a painful jolt. I squeezed my eye shut momentarily as the shooting pain in my neck throbbed, opening it again to see the bald man standing over me, looking down at me with a disgustingly sly smirk creeping across his face.
"Hey Frankie, we could try some of my methods." He spoke for the first time, his voice heavy with the local accent, voice very nasal.
"Hmm. That may be a good idea Dave. They always help, and..." Frankie leaned in close, grabbing a tight hold of my cheeks in one hand and squeezing.
"With a pretty face like this, we'll have no issues. I'll take great pleasure in breaking you" He shoved my head back, not that it had much room to move since Dave still had a tight grip of my hair, and stood. He looked over his shoulder towards a pale faced Alley.
