Page 29 of Creep
Now done with cleaning, I pick up all of the things I used, washing and rinsing them before putting them away in their rightful spots. Kneeling on the floor in front of the sink, I shift my eyes to Vincent’s stoic form. He moved to the counter and is now leaning against it. When my eyes reach his, I falter before pushing myself into a standing position. Being on my knees while he’s staring at me the way he is makes me feel awkward and small and it’s intimidating.
I stealthily grab a knife from the knife block on the counter as I make my way out of the room. I’m cautious of his eyes on me as I grab it, but I’m not too worried. I’m used to sneaking things because it’s what I always had to do growing up. I had to steal food from stores sometimes, or even sneak shit inside of the house.
I quickly glance behind me, but Vincent unexpectedly lets me leave without a word. I trudge up the stairs to my room, desperate for another shower to wash this stink off of myself, and if I’m being honest, to avoid Vincent. I have never had an episode in front of someone before, and I’m embarrassed, but more than that, I’m ashamed of myself. I don’t need anyone knowing the shit I have been through, or even worse, feeling pity for me.
Locking my bedroom door behind me, I make my way to the shower, and step right in—clothes and all. I turn the knob all the way and let the ice cold water hit me. It feels like tiny pin needles across my skin, stinging in their wake.
I sink to the floor, thoroughly drained. Even my bones feel tired as I focus on the knife in my hand, twisting it around in my fingers, admiring how something so mundane as a kitchen knife used to prepare food can bring so much happiness to someone like me. You would never think staring at a random knife block on someone’s kitchen counter, one of the knives inside of it was used to cut open someone’s skin, their blood flowing all over it.
The bathroom door creaks open, lightly tapping the wall as it opens all the way. I don’t even turn my head, already knowing who it is.As if it would be anyone else.I keep my head tilted down and away from him, wiping the water running into my eyes.
He doesn’t make a noise, just standing quietly. But he doesn’t have to say a word, his presence is domineering enough to the point it’s suffocating me. It feels like he’s right next to me in the shower, hovering and staring down at me.Am I imagining this or…I glance up in question and my cold gaze locks onto his fiery one. He’s standing directly under the spray, his clothes becoming soaked and sticking to him like a second skin. I can’t help but notice his defined muscles, seeming more explicit because of his wet clothing. I get pulled into his intense aura, everything around us falling away.
He squats down in front of me, the water now falling directly into my face, but I can’t pull my eyes away from his. I’m frozen in place and my body is screaming at me to move, to blink the water away which is burning my eyes, but I can’t.
He yanks the knife out of my closed fist, and the blade cuts across my palm. I don’t know how my hand became wrapped around the blade, but I don’t remember doing things sometimes when I get in this self-destructive mood. I hiss at the pain, but it brings a maniacal smile to my face.
“You’re one twisted bitch, you know that don’t you?” Vincent chuckles. I shrug my shoulders in response, too tired to verbally respond. He pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling my face up to meet his.
“You best fucking answer me unless you want more of those across your beautiful skin.” He lets go of my chin and runs his index finger across my exposed arm, trailing across my scars. My older ones, my newer ones, and my most recent ones. He tilts his head down until I feel his lips brush across them, lingering on one in particular. The one which almost killed me.
I still remember that night like it was yesterday…
I’m sitting in the bathtub, cold water running down across my back while my hair hangs in front of my face, shielding me from the light and blanketing me in darkness. He hurt me again tonight, for what feels like the millionth time. Every time he leaves, I tell myself, “tonight will be the last night” but it never is because I’m a fucking coward. I can’t fucking stop him, and I’ll never be able to stop him.
There is only one way to end this. One way to stop him once and for all.
A cold chill shivers down my spine as I bring the razor blade to my arm and cut down vertically. No hesitation, and no second fucking thoughts.
I need to end this.
I can’t do it anymore.
Holley will be okay. I know Ben won’t hurt her.
A sign of relief fills my lungs as things become hazy around me as warmth floods through me.
But what if he does?
The warmth turns to a blistering chill in a nanosecond. My arm has long since gone numb and it’s now radiating through the rest of my body. My limbs feel like dead weight and a cold chill has broken out across my entire body as the panic sets in.
Goddamnit. I knew this was going to happen.
What the fuck did I do?
I attempt to sit up, my entire body sluggish, and grab a towel to wrap around the cut to slow the blood flow, but before I get the chance, everything goes black…
Shame eats at me when I think about what almost happened.
Of course I want to die. I think about it every single day, but I’m not allowed to be selfish. I have my sister who needs me to be strong, to survive for her, to live for her, and knowing I almost left her alone with those fiends eats away at me every day.
I watch as Vincent kisses my scar and all memories of the past fade instantly from his single touch. My blood warms the longer his mouth remains against my skin, heat swirling in the pit of my stomach but I remain frozen, unsure what his intentions are.
“This specific one seems to be the worst of all the scars covering you. You really tried to end it on this one, didn’t you?” I watch as his tongue peaks through his lips, running along the raised skin, tracing it down the length of my arm. Heat pools in between my legs and goosebumps subsequently rise along my skin, following the path of his tongue.
“Answer me, Essa. Any other time I want you to shut the fuck up, you won’t, but when I want you to answer me, you want to clam up? Speak.”
I stammer over my words, the heat from his mouth on me jumbles them up in my brain. “Y-Yes.” I manage to spit out. His mouth is fire against my icy skin. The water may be warm now, but it has no effect on my skin like his touch does.
