Prologue: Bloody Sunday
"What are you doing you fucking moron?! That's not the way it's done!" Chloe sat, tucked away in the shadowy far corner of her room, hidden by the flowing green tapestry nailed to her ceiling. The white bricks that her walls were comprised of dug into her back and the only light came from a solitary window, where a tiny ray of light penetrated the grimy glass.
A slap rang out. She raised the volume on her headphones.
""Just get out Seth! Just get the fuck away from me!" Mama shrieked. A door slammed and heavy footsteps started up the stairs. She raised the volume up a little louder, praying it wouldn't cross that finicky threshold where it became audible, and therefore deadly.
"CHLOE! Chloe! Where are you, you little slut!" Save for one long wavering breath she was deathly silent, curled up in that corner, making sure no part of her escaped to spell her doom. There was a series of ominous 'creaks' as he sat heavily onto her bed, swishing sounds heralding the removal of his clothes. She shuddered.
"Chloe! If you don't come out now, it's only gonna hurt worse!" His words slurred, tripping and fumbling over themselves until they were just barely coherent. But she didn't need to know exactly what they meant; it was just the low, predatory tone that told her everything she needed to know.
She didn't dare turn the volume up any louder; instead she tried to focus on the songs. She tried so hard.
"Chloe." The voice was down to a deep growl, the most dangerous stage, but also the one closest to redemption. He pulled back the tapestry…
When the word "fifteen" comes to mind, the last thing one imagines is the aforementioned scene, but this was the life that Chloe Miller lived, or the life that lived her. So when she finally decided to do something about it, it was only her luck that it would make it all so much worse…
I stared at my hands; they were bright red, wet, and sticky. My stomach and legs burned, reminding me of why they were like that. I didn't look up, I couldn't, I knew what was there. Hot tears burned at my eyes, I didn't mean it, I just…I just couldn't take it. Not again, I begged him; just this once…My head ached from where he'd pulled the hair out, holding me down. My wrists were purple from where they'd been trapped between his fists…I tried to tell her, and she just wouldn't believe me.
A sob came from somewhere far away…was that me? I tried to wipe my face and screamed when I felt something pierce my cheek. Dropping the knife I fell to my knees on the floor, the last time I would be on my knees for him…he deserved it right? Right? I only cried harder. I couldn't look, I couldn't see what I'd done…but he deserved it! Oh God.
Sirens wailed outside my little window and I sprang up. I couldn't breathe, I was sobbing so hard, hiccupping instead of drawing breath. Running into the bathroom I jammed my hands into the sink, blasting the water as high as it would go. I scrubbed and I scrubbed and the blood still wouldn't come off.
"Please…please…" I begged, scrubbing harder, watching the pink water flow down the drain. Raising them to the dingy mirror I stared, the reflection showed clean damp hands, I still saw the blood…so much blood. Lowering them my pale face took their place. Oh no. Under my eye a slash bled slightly. The knife…the knife! I ran back to the room and grabbed it. The sirens were closer now, so close I could see the red, white, and blue lights reflected off my once white walls, now they had ugly purple splotches spread across them.
Throwing it down the air vent I grabbed my filthy backpack and yanked on my dirty sneakers, not bothering to change my bloodstained clothes, only pulling a jacket on over them. It was dark…maybe they wouldn't see me…In a blind panic I ran out the back door and flew down the apartment steps, throwing myself into the basement. At that moment I heard booted footsteps retrace my own steps, just in reverse direction. I stopped breathing.
The door must've been knocked down as there was a crash. Gingerly scrabbling at the exit of the basement I pried it open, my fingers starting to bleed all over again, except this time it was my own blood. I knew what they were looking as I escaped into the chilly air of winter in the city, running through the alleyways as fast as my bruised legs could take me. Seth would by laying there, on my bed, a long slash ripping its way through his chest just like the way he ripped through my insides. His heart would no longer be beating.
A/N: I know, its short, but I posted it with the first chapter so ha! Anyway, there might be awhile between posts because I'm working on another story too that I started first (A Fashionable Life), so expect like maybe a week. This gets really good though so it's worth it. !