Poison Letters

Chapter 9

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Dear you,

You know when you're trying to run away but you're stuck in the same spot? It mostly happens in nightmares where you feel like a presence is chasing you down a gloomy path. Tou try to run as fast as you possibly can but you're not moving.

You push your legs to go faster but it seems like you're just running on butter. You're not fücking moving no matter how hard your heart beats or how fast your legs move or how determined you are to get away from that evil person.

You're stuck.

I'm stuck.

I suck large amounts of air through my mouth but only a small fraction of that actually goes to my lungs. My body burns as I crouch down on the floor trying my hardest to protect whatever I can get to.

My legs hurt from running and my heartbeat is spiked up so high I can feel each heartbeat, each pulse. I can feel it all.

My dearest father delivers blow after blow to my most vulnerable places and I can't help but think he keeps switching places. He hits my head then kicks my abdomen then tries to crush my legs. I have no time to react as my hands are too slow to get them where I want them to be.

I think I'm finally going numb.

How sad is that? Being thankful for going numb. I should start to freak out even more. I should scream and cry and claw at my father to let me go. I should defend myself from him.

I should defend myself from them.

But I can't.

Let me tell you a secret. I like this. I'm not talking about the scorching pain or the bruises that cling to my skin for weeks at a time. I'm talking about the numbness.

After my father has a go at me, he leaves. He grabs my mother and they go somewhere. They disappear for the whole night. Those moments are my most cherished ones.

When he stops, I usually end up sleeping somewhere. At those moments, I want to cry tears of joy.

Sleep. My best friend. My life. My pain. This agony. Reality.

I get to forget everything about myself. It's lovely.

I feel blood trickling down my face. Scabs opening and old wounds coming back to haunt me. I feel bruises being poked at and my bones shaking from the force of the hits.

Please, just stop this.

At some point, I passed out. My brain blacked out and I lost consciousness entirely.

I just want to sleep....

-----

My lips parted and I took a big intake of air into my needy lungs, but as soon as I did that, a blinding pain shot from my chest area. Instantly, my eyes shot open and I cried out painfully then quickly cradled my abdomen and rolled over to the side clutching my side for dear life as tears trickled down my face.

I was laying on the dirty carpet in the living room. Blood could be seen in spots around me and the whole house was sealed in total darkness.

I cried out and exhaled softly. My sides hurt and my head was pounding. I just had to hope there were no broken bones. I'm counting on that actually.

I tried to move to get up but there was no use as waves of pure pain shot through my entire body, worsening my headache. I could feel bumps on my skin and wounds where the blood seeped from.

Eventually, I gave up. I just lay on my back and closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing.

In. Out. In. Out.

My head lay on the floor and my eyes skimmed the place. I kept breathing and tried to focus on something other than the pain. Although the house was completely dark, I could see the silhouette of objects around the house.

I saw the dirty couch that was situated in our living room. I saw the old TV that was put there for decoration since it doesn't work at all. My eyes jumped from one object to the other as they explored something that they must've looked at a thousand times by now.

In my head, I was replaying the beating I received from my father. I recalled everything. I remembered every detail.

My mother. She didn't do anything. She didn't try to help her only daughter. She didn't try to calm him down or push him away. She just pushed her hand against her own mouth while tears streamed her pale cheeks.

Eyes still hopping around as I re-lived the past that had just happened when I saw something out of the ordinary. I saw a man.

A silhouette of a man.

I saw the devil.

I watched him with my immobile head, my eyes the only things that work properly. I watched him watch me.

He just stood there. This stranger was standing outside my window staring at me in this house. His gaze never wavered even when I caught him. He made no attempt at hiding himself or trying to pretend like he wasn't doing it.

Shameless.

I could cry out for him. I could ask him to help me. I could tell him to call the police. I wanted to tell him to help me. I needed to tell him to help me. I couldn't tell him to help me.

I just couldn't.

I just stared at him while he stared back. His face overtaken by darkness hiding anything from anyone's prying eyes.

He tilted his head to the side. He then tilted it to the other side. His cloak moved with each movement.

Yes. He wore a cloak. A black one at that. It seemed to comfortably fit him like it was made for him. The cloak had a hood that had been draped over his head for whatever reason. The darkness of that cloak and the darkness of the night made him blend in like a chameleon trying to hide from predators.

He moved his head backwards causing his hood to slid a little off of his head. At that point, some light coming from the street reflected in his eyes making them appear to be an almost black color.

Scared. I was scared.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to claw him. I wanted to get away from him. Anything. I just wanted him gone.

As if sensing that, the man moved closer to the window, making me flinch away into the dirty carpet. He paused then back away and moved to the right disappearing out of sight.

I should be happy. Relieved in the least. I should be thankful. But I'm not.

I'm actually even more terrified. Fear is gripping me with its razor sharp claws, dragging me deeper into its dark corner. Consuming me.

My tears wanted to be released. They wanted freedom. They wanted to be let out, and so they fought. My eyes burnt while I looked around frantically trying to move to get to something.

He was going to the front door.

*Note: I just want to thank anyone and everyone who has been reading this dumbäss book. I know it's like so fücking bad and horrible and shītty but I'm working on it. Thank you to everyone!

Thank you! Much love!
-The girl sent from hell.-