Chapter One
His eyes are so beautiful when they stare into mine. They're blue, like the clear sky, and they're soft with love. But that was torn away from me one year ago when he was found dead. But now, I find myself staring into his eyes. But this time they're full of hatred and death. I back up. But he steps closer, holding a knife and holding it to my heart. I'm scared. This is a fear that I've never felt before. It feels like my whole life has crashed down on me.
I whisper, "Why? Why would you do this to me Mason?"
His next words surprise but don't scare me, "Because you hurt me." Every word feeling like a stab in the back.
I step closer. Not wanting him to leave even if he is trying to kill me. I feel the knife slightly touch my skin. It's cold with a rough feel to it.
"I miss you," I whisper each word making me move closer to him until the knife is slightly drawing blood.
He pulls the knife down. And presses his cheek to mine. His warm breath leaves a tingly feeling on my skin. I try to smell as much of him as I can in that moment. He wraps me in his arms like old times then kisses me behind my ear.
I wonder what happened to the man who wanted to kill me but I rather swallow this moment up then let me lose him again.
Then he steps back, that look in his eye again. He lifts the knife back up. I take a step back. He takes a step forward. I take another back. But it's no use he's got me cornered to the wall.
"Help!" I scream. But it is no use. Not in the cellar of my basement.
He grabs my wrists with one hand. His stub nails digging into my wrist. His other hand still holds the knife. I squirm.
He stabs me.
I scream. Not just because of the pain. But because he used be someone I trusted.
Someone I loved.
Later
I lie back and stare at the stars. Each star looks like its own diamond.
Then I remember something. But I can't grasp it. I jerk up into a sitting position. The questions hit my like a wave of pain. I remember him. The boy, Mason. He's the only thing I remember. Then the questions come. I can't pinpoint them.
Then they start coming individually. Where am I? What happened? How did I get here? That last one that comes to me is something that is not a question but a memory. Delaney Barnett. It's a memory now though because before it was a name that held pride and beauty. Now it's still my name but now it holds anger and rage. Only one thing remains and that is beauty.