Oh, my whole body hurts. I slowly start to open my eyes. It's too bright, so I close them again. Slowly, I start checking over myself. Ten fingers. Ten toes. That's good. I can move both ankles without them hurting. That's good. Left wrist. Good. Right wrist. Oh, crap, that hurts. That's not good. Ok. We can work with that. I can move both my legs; but not much; they're still tied up. They hurt, but a sore kind of hurt, not an injury kind of hurt. That's good. My left arm is sore too. But moving my right arm even just a little causes me to scream out in pain, gaining the attention of one of my stepfather's friends.
"Look who's awake." He says, slurring his words and sitting on the bed next to me.
"Please. Let me go. I have to use the bathroom." I beg.
"Fine. Look who is sooooo needy all of a sudden," he says, grabbing the handcuff keys from the table nearby. I look around the room; nearly everyone is passed out; the two that aren't are too drunk or high to function, so I assume that's why I'm awake. They're too out of it to remember to keep giving me sedatives. It takes a while for Keith to concentrate long enough to successfully get the key in the lock to unlock my hands. Once both of my hands are unlocked, I sit up and start rubbing my wrists. Keith stumbles his way to the end of the bed before tripping over his own two feet and falling on the floor. No, no, no.
"Please toss me the keys. I can unlock my feet." I beg, hoping that he didn't just pass out. Nothing. I sigh and lay back down with a groan. It takes a second, and then I feel something cold and metal hit my shin and fall on the bed. Yes, he did throw the keys. I quickly sit back up and grab the keys unlocking my feet. I rub my ankles for a second to get some blood flow back. Once I'm satisfied with that, I swing my feet over the bed and stand up. I'm a bit shaky. Geez, how long was I out? Once I gain my balance, I grab my clothes off the ground and put the leggings on and my jacket on. My bra and underwear are entirely shredded on the floor. f*****g animals. I make my way upstairs with the rest of my clothes in my hands. My head hurts. I get to the kitchen and check the time above the stove. 3 am. So I've been out at least a day, I'm guessing. I quietly grab food from the cabinet and a glass of water. Careful to be as quiet as possible so I don't wake anyone up. I sneak upstairs and pass Jeff's room to get to mine. As I open my bedroom door, Jeff’s bedroom door also flies open, startling me.
"Do you know what time it is?" He asks me with a sleepy scowl on his face.
"3 am. Sorry." I whisper.
"Yeah. Be quiet. Oh, and some boy came looking for you at school today. Keep your friends away from me. I don't want people knowing we're related." He frowns.
"Today at school? What day is it?" I ask him.
"Thursday.... well, Friday now. Sort your s**t out." He says, going back inside his room and closing the door. ITS FRIDAY? Was I out for a whole week? Oh, I'm in so much trouble. I go inside my room, eat a little snack, and drink a glass of water before getting ready for bed since I have to be up in a couple of hours. I was asleep for a whole week; how can I still be tired?
I got a couple of hours of sleep and woke up just in time to shower and get dressed without being late for once. I take my seat in the back of Mr. Dawson's class and put my head down. I don't feel good. It's amazing what a week's worth of heroin will do to you. It makes you feel like s**t once you don't have anymore. I hear other students coming in, but I don't care enough to look up. The desk is cold, and it feels good.
"My god......... you're here!" I hear a deep voice say, but he can't be talking to me, so I don't move. After a second, I hear the chair next to me move.
"Blake?" He says as I feel a hand on my shoulder, shaking my hurt arm.
"Ouch," I yell, sitting up and pulling my arm to me, holding it.
"It is you. I was getting so worried." The man says, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me to him. As quickly as he does, he drops his arms and pulls back. "Oh, you don't like being touched. I'm sorry." He says. Once he let me go, I also lean away from him and look him up and down.
"Oh, Tyler," I sigh once I recognize him.
"Where have you been all week?" He says with a hopeful smile.
"I was sick at home." I lie—his smile drops.
"Your stepbrother said he hadn't seen you at home in 3 weeks." He says
"Well, Jeff's a little oblivious to anything that doesn't have to do with Jeff. I was at home all week." I say, looking at him. He searches my eyes for answers, and I guess he finds what he wants because he doesn't ask any more questions.
"Are you ok?" He asks me with a sad smile.
"Yeah," I give him my best fake smile. The truth is I've not been ok in a long time, but he doesn't want to hear about my problems.
"Was your stepdad mad at you for going to the club with me?" He asks.
"Yeah. I had fun, but I don't think I'll be doing that again anytime soon." I admit.
"I hope that you weren't grounded for too long." He says.
"Hey, that's not too bad," he smiles.
"Do you have any notes on what I missed this week?" I ask with a small smile. Despite what all of my teachers think, I enjoy school. I like learning things, but I mainly like having 8 hours a day where I get some semblance of freedom and normalcy.
"Yeah. Let me show you, and you can take a picture or something." He says, digging thru his bag before pulling out a notebook.
"Thank you," I whisper as Mr. Dawson walks in.
"It's what friends are for." He shrugs. "Looks like he is about to start class. Just take a picture, and you can do them later."
"I can't..... I - I don't have a phone." I mumble.
"You're 18, and you don't have a phone?" He asks, giving me a confused look.
"No. I can't afford it." I say, even quieter than before
"Ok. Well, you can copy them at lunch today." He says with a shrug.
"Quiet down, class." Mr. Dawson says as the bell rings, right on queue.
As promised, Tyler let me copy his notes at lunch, so at least I'm not too far behind in one class. Not that it matters. I'm probably going to have to repeat this year anyway. I finished the rest of the school day as usual. I wish I would have gotten to have the whole week instead of only one day before heading right back into the weekend. But at least I got the one day. One 8-hour break before returning to my own personal hell. I don't have cigarettes or anything, so I'm practically shaking by the end of the school day. I need something. Anything. The good news is I only have a short walk home, and then I'm sure to be given something because Jeff always comes home right after school on Fridays for a couple of hours before he leaves again for his football games and parties. Just distract yourself. Think about nature or something for a few minutes while walking home, then just a few more minutes later, the pain will stop, and I won't feel sick anymore.
"Blake! Over here." Tyler yells to me across the parking lot as I walk out of the school. He is standing next to his car, but he isn't alone. I guess he is making friends. Good for him. I don't have much time, but I don't want to be rude. I walk over to Tyler and the other guy. He's kind of hot too. I guess it's true that hot guys usually have hot friends.
"Hey, Tyler," I say as I walk up to him, which causes him and his friend to end their conversation and the friend to scowl at me. "Did you want something? I have to get home."
"Let me give you a ride," Tyler says, looking from the other guy than to me with a smile.
"I'm good. Thanks." I shrug.
"I insist." Tyler smiles at me.
"No. I'm good, thanks. See you later." I say, turning away, but someone grabs my wrist, and I turn back to face them and take my wrist out of their hand, shocking me. "Please don't touch me." I squeak, taking a few steps backward, bringing my wrist up to my chest and looking at it.
"He didn't mean to," Tyler says, grabbing the guy's shoulder and pulling him back some.
"Bye," I mumble to Tyler as I walk away. I'm already late to get home. Who knows what they will do to punish me since I came home late the last time I left the house. My stepfather might think that means I didn't learn my lesson and keep me out for a month or make me overdose or make me dry out or - there's a lot he can do to make me suffer—more than he does now. I only make it a few steps before Tyler runs in front of me, stopping me.
"Please, Tyler. I'm late." I sigh
"Then let me give you a ride." Tyler smiles. I take a second to look between Tyler and the road I have to walk down. The car would make this faster.
"Great!" He smiles before walking back to his car. I follow him. Tyler opens the passenger side door for me, and I get in. Tyler then walks around and gets in the driver's seat as the other guy gets in the back seat behind me. Tyler starts the car and pulls out of the parking space. But stops before pulling out of the parking lot and looks at me.
"What?" I ask with a smile.
"Where do you live?" He asks.
"You don't remember?" I tease him
"I remember you made me drop you off at a house that wasn't yours in the middle of the night." He says, nodding.
"What?" The guy in the back seat chimes in.
"I didn't-"I start my lie.
"Yeah, you did, and don't even try to deny it. I went to that house to check on you yesterday. An old couple lives there. Not you." He says, looking at me with a pointed look.
"You mean Mema and Pop Pop? Yeah, they live with us," I ask with a smile trying to make it sound like they are my grandparents.
"No, you don't live with them. It didn't smell like you." He says in a huff
"I could. You don't know," I say, trying to defend my lie.
"What are their names then?" He asks, crossing his arms.
"Paula and Micha-"
"Wrong. His name was Charles." Tyler says with a victory smile. I roll my eyes.
"It didn't smell like me?" I ask, giving him a confused expression.
"That's not the point. Look. I don't care that you lied about where you live. I just need to know how to drop you off at your real house. And don't give me a fake address again. I'm not driving away until you are inside the house." He says with a smirk.
"Fine. Take a right." I sigh and lean back in my seat, crossing my arms.
"See, that wasn't so hard." He smiles and takes a right.
"But Tyler, please don't pull in the driveway," I say. "Jeff gets home right after school and gets mad when someone is in his spot." I make an excuse.
"Who's Jeff?" The guy in the back seat says, and he sounds angry.
"My stepbrother. Who are you?" I ask, turning around some to face the guy. But instead of answering, he goes back to texting on his phone, so I turn back around and focus on giving Tyler directions to my house. Let's hope everyone is still passed out.
After a few minutes of silence, Tyler pulled up in front of my house, and he didn't pull into the driveway as I asked. Thankfully. I grab my bag from the floorboard and open up my door, stepping out of the car. The guy in the car's back seat also opens his door and steps out, waiting for me to get out of the way. I guess now that I'm out of the car, he will take my seat. I lean down and look at Tyler.
"Thanks for the ride. I appreciate it." I say with a smile before I stand up and turn around to walk to my house. But I can only take a couple of steps before the other guy steps in front of me.
"Bye." I glare at him, hoping he will take a hint and get out of my way. He looks me up and down before crossing his arms and smirking.
"I, Alpha Noah Decker, reject you as my mate." He says with a smirk. Weirdo.
"Ok," I roll my eyes and walk around him to my house. I hear the car door close behind me as I step up onto my porch. I don't feel good now. My stomach hurts as well as my head. I turn around to wave at Tyler and his weird friend when I hear my front door open.
"There you are. You're late." My stepfather's friend Keith says, grabbing my shirt and pulling me into the house. He slams the door once I'm inside. "Who told you that you could go to school today?" He yells. I can smell the weed and alcohol on him.
"I hadn't gone in a week," I say as I pry his hand off his shirt.
"Upstairs. Now!" He yells. I run up the stairs hoping I can get to my room and lock the door before he can get to me. I feel this intense pain inside of me now. I don't know what it is, but I hate it. Nobody has hurt me yet. Why do I feel this much pain? I make it into my room, closing the door and locking it. It doesn't take long for Keith to start banging on my door, commanding me to open it. But I don't.
Once in my room with the door locked, I do the only thing I can think of to make myself feel better. I run to the bathroom connected to my room and grab a razor blade. I sit down on the floor, lean against my shower, and take a deep breath. I put the blade to my wrist and applied a little bit of pressure. Soon I see the blood running down my arm. That's better. I can't explain it, but something about being and pain and seeing blood and locating the source of pain makes me feel better already. I make another cut and again feel a little better almost instantly. I give it a moment before standing up, grabbing a towel and cleaning up the blood. I grab a cloth and hold it to my wrist to stop the blood as I walk out of my room into my bedroom. I pick my bag up and put it on the desk in the corner, hoping to play catch up from the four days of school I missed. Keith is still banging at my door, but I don't care. I pull a notebook out of my bag when Keith and my stepfather bust down my bedroom door, knocking it off the hinges.
"You spoiled b***h!" My stepfather says as he walks towards me before he backhands me so hard I fall onto my bed. I look at him holding my cheek where he slapped me. Before I can fight back, Keith pulls off my jacket as my stepfather holds me down.
"Stop! Stop!" I beg as another of my stepfather's friends stumbles into the room, giving me an evil smile. He grabs my pants and starts taking them off as I move around to try to get free from their hold, but there is no point. They pull me up onto my bed on my stomach as I fight them. Once Keith has all my jackets and shirts off, he takes one of my hands and puts it in the handcuff on my bed, closing the handcuff around my wrist tightly. I try to push him off me with my other hand, but he also grabs that one and forces it in handcuffs. That was my hurt arm, so I cried out in pain. My stepfather and the other friend are holding both my legs, trying to force those in handcuffs too, but I'm sick of this. I don't want to live this life anymore, so I fight back. This might be the day they finally have enough mercy to kill me. I keep fighting and screaming when I hear movement downstairs. I know what comes next, but I don't want this. Not today. I fight back harder before I feel a stabbing pain in my back. I feel my limbs go weak, and my eyes close. And soon