Enders

Enders (25)

The moment I opened my eyes, the only thing I could focus on was the searing pain in my forehead.

I sat up, turning to look into the mirror on the wall to see the quarter-size gash on my forehead, scabbing over but nearly completely fresh. It took me a moment of staring at it before the fight from the night before finally flooded back to me, my blood boiling at the thought of it.

I pushed myself up, ready to jump out of bed and find anyone who could tell me why the hell this injury was still there when it was supposed to have gone away in only a few hours. I didn't know if I had been lied to or if something else was going on.

Before I could even get off the bed, however, my door was suddenly opening to reveal Striker, creepy grin and all. It immediately made my skin crawl, stopping me from moving any farther.

"Good morning, Violet," he greeted me, coming inside and closing the door behind him even though I didn't tell him he could come in. "I see you're awake now."

Something about the way he said this bothered me, as if he'd been coming in to periodically check that I had woken up. It sounded like something he would do, but just because it wasn't surprising didn't mean it wasn't creepy.

Striker was in no way unattractive, but his creepy behavior was what ruined it all for him. I had no interest in him, and yet here he was in my room. It took all my control not to chuck something at him.

"What do you want?" I demanded, not even pretending like I was okay with being near him.

He smiled at me, that same sickly smile I was so used to seeing. It never ceased to make my skin crawl. "I just wanted to visit you," he answered, slowly making his way toward my bed. I was ready to throw something if I needed to. "Can I not visit you, Violet?"

"Nope," I blurted without even thinking.

He simply chuckled, but I could see the annoyance behind his eyes from my answer. I couldn't have cared less; only being blunt would get the point across to this man. Even then, he'd still may try to ignore it in favor of his own crazy narrative.

"Look, Violet. I'll cut right to the chase," he began, and I knew nothing I wanted to hear was about to come out of his mouth. "I think it's obvious how I feel toward you. And I think it's obvious that you feel the same way."

I nearly choked on my own saliva. "Excuse me?"

He began moving toward the bed, and I found myself scrambling up and practically skidding on the floor away from him. He seemed surprise by my sudden movements, but then smiled at me. He found this amusing.

"I think you should just stop playing hard to get," he shrugged, and all I could do was just stare at him, mortified. "It'll make everything much more easier."

He reached for me again, and with a million disgusting scenarios flashing through my head, I found myself swinging my hand and bringing my dresser closer, bashing right into him and shattering into pieces. He stumbled, but didn't fall. All I could do was stare at him.

I had plenty of furniture in my room to throw at him if I needed to. I didn't want to know what he was planning if he was able to get his hands on me. I didn't even want to think about it.

"You're going to fight this, are you?" he growled, and I was surprised to see a trickle of blood drip down from his mouth. Though the dresser hadn't appeared to do much damage, it seemingly did. "You should be doing everything I say. You should be following all my orders."

I didn't understand why he was saying this, but I didn't even care. I wanted him away far, far away from me, and I'd make that happen if I needed to.