I could still feel him. I could still feel the way he climbed on top of me in the dead of the night. I could still hear when he'd climb into my bedroom through the window.
I could feel the way his knife dug into my skin, slashing me, marking me. Claiming me. Was it right to want him, to need him like this? Was it healthy to constantly be obsessing over this, this enigma of a thing- a boy- no, a man. He was eighteen. I was only 16. There was a slight age difference, but the fact that he was legal made him seem so… forbidden. Dangerous, almost.
"Mine, mine, mine," he would mutter in my ear as he pressed against my body. "You're mine forever. Forever. Say it!" He'd command. He would hurt me if I didn't comply. I still remembered the way he marked me. I hated him for so long after that. I hated him, so, so much. That was the night that I tried to kill myself. That was the night that he broke into my house, albeit not the first time. He snatched my knife away from me and screamed, "Why?! Why would you do that? You're an idiot; an idiot bitch! Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl!" Then, I started to cry. It just got worse and worse as he yelled at me. Suddenly, he stopped screaming, and pulled me to him, wrapping his hoodie- clad arms around me and holding me close.
"Never do that again. Never do it, or else I'll kill the both of us and torch this house. You may hate your parents, but I can and I will kill your sister. Do you understand me, Eris?" He growled in my ear. He knew that I fucking understood him. He knew that I realized that I was his. It didn't take a bloody genius to figure that one out, and it was actually quite simple, really. Sometimes, though, I would wish that the scar on my body wasn't there. I felt so unsexy whenever I saw it. I felt like an animal because only animals are marked such as this.
I wish that Jeff and I were more normal of a "couple". I don't want to live, but I don't want to die. I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all and he was just really screwed up in the head.
"Jeff, you need to go. My parents will be waking up soon." I said to him. Jeff snorted.
"Oh, darling, they won't be waking up." He told me. My eyes widened. What did he do?!
"What are you talking about?" I asked, not really wanting to believe my ears. Sure, I kind of hated my parents, but I didn't want them to die! No matter what Jeff said, I never wanted them to die!
"It's obvious, dear. I murdered them before I came in here." He whispered in my ear. I could feel an ice-cold pick of fear piercing my heart. What about Darcy?! Please tell me that he didn't kill her! "Don't worry, my little pet. I didn't hurt your precious little sister." He sneered. I narrowed my eyes at him.
"I hate you! I hate you so much that I can barely stand to look at you!" I hissed at him, barely able to control the hatred that I felt for him.
"Oh, pet. I don't think that you can actually distinguish the difference between hatred and love. Perhaps I should be the one to teach you?" He leaned in to kiss me, I think. I didn't want this, but what if he killed Darcy if I refused to do what he wanted?! I loved my little sister too much for her to be murdered at the hands of this sicko. I loved her eyes; a dark violet blue colour. My little sister was beautiful, and I was always jealous of her, even though she did mean well.
I could feel his chapped lips against my dry ones, and it gave me a sort of closure. It made me feel as though nothing else mattered.
"Shh, go to sleep. I shall not be here in the morning, for the police will be showing up as soon as your sister finds them."
"What if they blame me or Darcy?!" I whispered in terror. Jeff chuckled.
"They won't, Mein kleines Haustier. They will blame that girl across the street that bullies you and your sister. I found her sneaking out last night, so all I needed to do was get some of her fingerprints, fibres, and hair, and she'd be locked up." He assured me. I was somewhat convinced, and I was glad that she'd be blamed because one time, her boyfriend tried raping my sister. I nearly killed him and her when she laughed and said, 'So? The little baby prostitute deserved it!'
"Jeff? What does Mein kleines Haustier mean?" I asked him. It sounded German or Russian, I think.
"If I wanted to tell you, I'd tell you, Mein kleines Haustier. Now, go to sleep." And with that being said, he disappeared into the night. I didn't know whether to feel hatred towards him, or love. Was it possible to feel both?
There's a thin line between hatred and love