Panic set in, I couldn't leave.
I never opened the door or left the house by myself. It took me a second to find the alarm that was on the far wall behind me. Stumbling on my own two feet, I almost fell to the floor running to it. My hands shook the entire time I punched the code in from the service elevator.
Nothing.
“Fuck!” I screeched out, punching it in once again.
Nothing.
I shuddered, resisting the urge to throw up. “What the fuck?!” Swallowing hard, my mouth suddenly dry.
I backed away from the alarm and turned my efforts back toward the door.
“SOMEBODY HELP ME! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, over and over again, fists pounding as hard as I could. “PLEASE! PLEASE!”
I begged until my voice was raw, my throat burned, and my resolve broke.
Nothing.
No one.
I looked around the room and realized I was alone. No one had chased after me, no one was behind me, no one followed me.
I ran into my room, slamming the door behind me. I frantically looked around, trying to gather my thoughts. I needed to lock myself away, I quickly shoved my dresser in front of the door, making sure it was secure.
It was a useless precaution.
If my uncle wanted in, he would get in.
I was hyperventilating, held captive in a house that was supposed to be my home. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to turn, nowhere to run.
I had no one.
I fell to my knees, welcoming the sting from the impact. I sat there and let everything I was holding in go.
I bawled for my parents.
I cried for that man, even though I shouldn’t have.
I sobbed for what I was forced to witness.
Most of all, I wept for the fact that he killed that man for me.
“Happy fifteenth birthday, Daisy.” Echoed in my mind, followed by the blast over and over again.
I don't know how much time went by before I crawled my way into the bathroom and forced myself to look in the mirror. The girl looking back at me was still covered with the man’s blood and remains. I stepped back, pulling off every last piece of clothing. Throwing it right in the garbage where it belonged.
I stepped into the scorching hot shower, wanting and needing it to wash away all of my sins. Pressing my forehead against the tile, I just stood there, watching the stranger’s blood paint the shower floor red and then go down the drain. Taking the last bit of innocence I had with it. I stayed in there until the water was frigid cold, which was a nice change to the burning of my skin.
I put on a tank top and some cotton shorts, grabbed the comforter off my bed and curled up on the floor in the furthest corner of the room. Far away from the door.
Waiting for the knock that I sensed was coming.
Never expecting who was on the other side.
Chapter 9
<>Austin<>
“When is he going to wake up?”
Why can’t I open my eyes? Why can’t I feel my body? Why am I so tired…
“Austin, can you hear me? The doctor says we need to talk to you. That you can hear us, and it will help you come out of your coma.”
Coma? I’m in a coma? Where is Alex? Someone tell me where Alex is? Why am I so tired…
“You look good today, baby. My boy’s got some color again. You’re looking like your old self. Come back to us please. We’re all waiting here for you. Open those bright green eyes.”
Where is Alex? Please, someone tell me where Alex is? I need to know if I killed her. I can’t live if she didn’t. Why am I so tired…
“We’ve seen a significant decrease in the swelling on his brain. The medically-induced coma is doing its job, and like I said before, it’s just a waiting game now.”
My brain? What the fuck is wrong with my brain? Why can’t I wake up? Open your eyes, Austin! Open your goddamn eyes! Why am I so tired…
“Austin… you need to wake up now, okay? You can’t leave me. I love you. Please… come back to us.”
Half-Pint.
Alex.
She’s alive.
And now…
Now I can finally sleep.
“His eyes! Did you all see that? Oh my God, his eyes are opening. I think he’s waking up! Honey, honey, can you hear me?” Mom asked.
My eyes fluttered open, trying to shake off the haziness of my mind. Blinking away the darkness and welcoming the light that showed me I was alive.
“Water,” I softly murmured. My lips were so chapped it hurt to move them. My throat so dry I could barely swallow.
“Oh, my God! He’s talking! He’s up! Dylan, go get the doctor! What, baby? Say that again.”
I felt her lean down by my face.
“Water,” I whispered into her ear.
I heard the shuffling of feet, but had to shut my eyes again, the lighting in the room was too bright. All I wanted to do was keep them open, but they burned.