Bella POV
I'm so sorry. I WILL come back. Please forgive me, for what you're going to go through. I WILL come back for you. I'm sorry.
SLAP!
I woke up from the horrible nightmare with a violent jolt. I couldn't breathe. I was going into a panic attack.
Deep breaths.
In and out. In and out.
I got up from the floor, and went to the sink, and washed my face, with ice cold water. I took in my surroundings and realised I was still in the bar from last night. I was in the toilets, I had slept on the grimy, freezing floor, I didn't even know what time it was. The doors to the toilets were open, and you could see the stains of shit and other vile, repulsive shit surrounding the toilets. At least it was a step up from the alleyways.
My dreams were getting worse each night, but it always had the same key points. At first everything was black, as if I was unconscious; however I could still hear, smell and feel. I always heard the same words: "I'm so sorry. I WILL come back. Please forgive me, for what you're going to go through. I WILL come back for you. I'm sorry." I didn't know who said the words, but I always referred to them as comfort. I always hope that someone out there cared for me, and they would come and rescue me. I know I was pathetic, but it had kept me alive on more than one occasion.
I walked out of the toilets, into the bar, and out into the night. I was alone in the world, and that was just fine with me.
I checked the inside of my boot to make sure that my black Dan Pesson PM7 was there. One of the two things I had stolen from my dear uncle. The fucking bastard. He made sure my life was hell, day and night, and his fucking next in command. He was my master, he made me call him that daily, I had to beg for food, the toilet, water, everything. I had killed him, yet he still haunted me in my nightmares, I had killed him with an intricately designed knife; the second item I had stole from my uncle. The knife was beautiful, the first time I saw it I was mesmerized. The jagged edges were menacing, it was deadly beautiful. And it was mine. I had killed the fucker, and was left without an ounce of regret, but the blood was too much, I always felt as if it was on me, and I always had to scrub it off.
I walked down the cold streets in nothing more than a pair of jeans, a fleece, a shirt and a pair of trainers I had stolen from a clothes store. I had escaped from my prison, and uncle two months ago, real life was hard especially with no education, no home address, and basically nothing. I had to move weekly, so my uncle wouldn't catch me. I knew he was tracking my every move, through cameras. I had also died my hair from black to brunette; my original hair colour. My uncle used to die my hair every week, so I looked different.
It was as if I didn't exist in the world, I was a nobody. I was cold and shivering, but I was used to it, I knew how to handle my gun, and taught myself a little hand to hand combat, in the first few weeks I had escaped. I knew I couldn't take any kind of torture, I knew my body could endure more than the average woman. There was nothing that my dear old uncle hadn't tried on me.
The only thing that kept me alive on this earth was revenge. I would get my uncle, I would torture him as he tortured me and then I would kill him me. It was all in good time, I knew I had to train myself, and then hunt down that bastard. The one thing my uncle hadn't taken away from me was my virginity. That was the only thing I could claim as my own, and no-one was taking that without my permission, absolutely no-one, I would rather die. That was the only thing that would make me snap. My pride had been taken, my dignity had been ripped away from me, but my virginity was mine. No matter how many cocks were shoved in my hands or mouth, I made sure none of them entered my body.
As I continued walking down the street, I had a sense that something was watching me, I speeded up my pace. I always trusted my instincts; it had never failed me in the past, and was the only thing I could rely on. I looked over my back, and surely enough a man about 6ft tall was following me, with something metal in his hand I couldn't make out.
I took the next turning, and it was an alleyway. The guy was closing in on me; I walked even faster, almost jogging.
Pain!
I slammed into the ground; pain was ripping though my body from my lower abdomen. I looked down, and there was a blade sticking out. I tried to get up but I just kept falling.
"Hahahahah. You think you can run away from your uncle without getting caught. Well now, you're going to be my bitch, coz I'm taking you back. I'm your uncle's new second in-"
Before he even finished the next word I shot him with my gun. The bullet hit dead centre in his forehead.
I fell back onto the ground, my hand outstretched. I was so tired, too tired.
I could feel the blackness descending onto my body, peace for the first time in my life following swiftly behind, I tried to fight it, but it tempted me, and it was so peaceful.
I let the blackness claim me, I was tired of fighting.
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