For What It's Worth

Chapter Two : When It Rains, It Pours

W H E N  I T  R A I N S ,  I T  P O U R S

Isabelle

After what feels like forever, I finally find a comfortable enough position to lay in along the back seats of my car, yet again. There are bags, filled with my clothes, that sit on the floor next to me. I swaddle myself in the blanket that's covering me.

It faintly smells like the old apartment. Well - the pungent air fresher we used to use to hide the smell after Nate and his friends smoked. It didn't matter what it was as long as it was strong enough to make your eyes water.

I like vanilla, that's my favorite. It reminds me of home and baking cupcakes with my Mom when I younger. God. I wince at the idea of her. I hate thinking about my parents because it makes me feel so guilty and even more alone.

My eyes suddenly start dropping with heaviness and I yawn, nestling the back of my head into the seats. I let out a few, long steady breaths before sealing my eyes together.

After a short while, they peel open at a faint tapping sound. I must've been asleep for at least half an hour because I've somehow managed to move myself around in the small space. The same noise sounds again and I lean up on my forearms before I see Nate's cold eyes staring at me through the window.

My throat constricts and before I can move, his elbow smashes through the window.

I raise my arms up high to protect myself from the spray of glass, letting out a shout of pain and fear. His hand opens the door from the inside and he gets into the car, over the top of me, crunching on the shards of glass that fell onto the seats.

"Nate!" I scream out. His large, rough hand clamps around my neck, crushing my throat as he pushes me down.

I try to cry out again but the words don't get past the blockage of his hand. He's got rage in his eyes, practically seething at the mouth through gritted teeth. His other hand begins to slide down my stomach, underneath my sweatpants, my underwear. I kick and struggle, tears streaming out the side of my eyes.

"Why'd you leave me, princess?" He hisses.

How did he find me? How?

He shoves me down, as if I could go further into the seats. The corners of my vision start going dark, my body grows weaker and I can't struggle against the weight of his body on top of mine.

As soon as his grip over my throat loosens slightly, I screech out as loud as I physically can. My body flings forward, shaking, screaming, spluttering. I scrape at my neck, frantically panting.

I'm alone. In my car. The window isn't smashed. Swallowing hard, I sit up, leaning against the door.

"Holy shit." I pant.

It wasn't real. It's okay. It wasn't real.

Tears are spilling down my hot cheeks but it doesn't feel like I'm crying. I wipe my face with the back of my hands. Nightmares aren't something I regularly had before, mainly because I was already living in one.

I collect myself and then lay back down, rolling my tense shoulders until they relax. Desperately, I try to suppress the image of Nate leaning over me. It was more like a memory than a dream.

When I first met him, there was nothing particularly interesting or special about me compared to others, but he made me feel good, good about myself. He made me feel wanted, desired, sexy. He loved me.

Or I thought he did. It took me too long to realize that you don't hurt the people you love, not on purpose. I wasn't someone he loved. I was someone he owned.