"I'm home!" Imogen called from the front door, happily throwing her bag by the coat rack. She smiled contently as she walked into the kitchen. After a day of tests, Eli had taken her out for ice cream at the Dot. Her easygoing smile was wiped off her face as soon as she saw him.
"Imo, you're home so early," her mom, Lydia, said turning around from the stove to look at her daughter.
"Y-Yeah, after school clubs where c-canceled for tonight's soccer game," Imogen mumbled, pulling on hem of her black skirt.
"Baby, I'm sorry but I won't be able to take you shopping tonight," the older woman said, placing a lid on carefully on her pan. "I signed for a double shift at the hospital. There's been some outbreak of tuberculosis and I'm needed."
Imogen sighed sadly, avoiding his eyes. "Its fine. Prom isn't for another two weeks anyway."
"Your daughter is growing up so fast, Lydia," he murmured, biting an apple, tearing into the soft, white flesh with his sharp teeth.
"Exactly what I was thinking!" Lydia exclaimed, kissing his cheek. "So gorgeous and smart."
"The entire package."
His words made her wince, while still avoiding those cold eyes. She couldn't look into his eyes for when she did, she would surely succumb to his power.
"It's getting late, love, I'm going to get ready," Lydia said, giving Imogen a quick peck on the cheek. "There's rice in the fridge and some pizza in the oven. Help yourselves."
"Thanks, Mom," Imogen whispered.
She wanted to tell her. She wanted to just scream it out to Lydia in hopes she would hear. But her voice would get lost in her sea of memories, the dull reminder that she would never be alone. Not while he was around. He watched her like she was a piece of meat on the dinner table. She was Imogen Moreno, his damn stepdaughter. This wasn't supposed to ever happen. Never.
As if he read her thoughts, his cold gray eyes turned to her and his lips turned up to a smirk. It wasn't the smirk she loved, on those plump lips she kissed. It wasn't Eli's smirk that offered comfort and laughter.
"So Imogen," he said, licking his lips and pushing closer to her, "How was your day?"
"Fine, thanks," she said stiffly, holding her breath,
"You look good today."
Imogen swore she threw up in her mouth a little. Fucking pig, she thought, he shouldn't even do this when mom's still at home.
"Imo," he said, his hot breath sending shivers down her neck and making her heart beat at an erratic pace, "I hope you don't have plans tonight. If you do, maybe Evelyn can take your place and help me out. She's so young and innocent."
Imogen wanted to cry. He always threatened her with Evelyn, her nine year-old sister. He had to have his way, always. If Imogen even refused to be his slave, he'd go after the youngest Moreno girl. Evenly was too kind for her own good and Imogen couldn't let her get hurt.
"I'm leaving!" Lydia called from the front door. "Babe, pick up Evy from soccer practice, I'm running late. Imogen, do some laundry and start on that homework. No more late night calls missy!"
Her eyes widened. He wasn't supposed to know! How could Lydia be as stupid as to say that out loud? Imogen had been on the phone talking to Eli about her performance on Love Roulette. It wasn't even late but Lydia just had to walk in. now he knew and he wouldn't let her get away with it.
The front door shut and immediately he pounced on her literally.
His chapped lips met the crook of her neck, biting it but not enough to leave a mark. She felt repulsed. Dirty, used, just a piece of flesh for his pleasure.
"Chris," she whimpered. "Please don't."
Begging never saved her before and it sure as hell wouldn't today. After an amazing time with Eli, she came home to this. Eli treated her great but Chris was rough, pushing and scratching and hurting.
"Come on, we have enough time before you pick up Evelyn," he groaned, burying his nose in her hair and pushing her towards the stairs.
She didn't fight when he undressed her and caressed her soft skin with rough hands. She closed her eyes and buried herself in a small hiding spot in her mind. She thought of Eli's face. His sweet kisses and emerald eyes. The way sarcasm was a language for him. How he always made sure no one hurt her. They might've started off on the wrong foot - she was practically his stalker - but somehow they fell for each other's messed up selves.
He couldn't stop Chris now, though. He couldn't stop the older man from plunging into her groaning in pleasure. He sent her into a mental coma. Eli couldn't stop Imogen from hurting.
After a few minutes of terrible pain, he was done and pulled out of her. He left her there broken and hurt under her soft sheets. Her thighs hurt and her breathing was labored.
This is how her day always ended. Chris would hurt her and then…she found self medication. As she crawled out of bed and into her bathroom, she stopped by her dresser. A velvety black case lay underneath some underwear and pajamas, hidden very well. She walked numbly and opened the creaky old door, locking it behind her. Peering into the mirror, she didn't recognize herself. Her hair was out of its pigtails and fell in dead-looking brown waves. Mascara and eyeliner where caked under her deep brown eyes. Those very eyes that usually held their own light where now a dull, murky mud color. She was pale and swore she could spot bruises forming along her hips. He always left her marked as a constant reminder of her suffering. She knew one pain she could control…she could stop when she wanted.
She slipped a flimsy night gown over her head and sat on the edge of her tub. She opened the tiny box which revealed a shiny blade.
Her hands shook as she took the blade between her fingers. Se pressed it against the inside of her wrist, an adrenaline rush to her numb body. Anticipation washed over her and she could feel the blade doing it's magic. She dragged it lazily across her skin, cutting through soft tissue. Blood sprouted from the open wound, trickling down her hand. She smiled. I know where I'm going with this. He can't hurt me here. I'm free.
this is what she lived for, to die every night. She couldn't stop Chris from hurting her, but she could control this pain. She knew when the blade was deep enough and when to let it fall to the floor.
Her thoughts where interrupted by her phone ringing in the next room. She carefully watched as the blood fell in droplets into the sink. The cold water rushed out of the faucet and stung. She willed herself not to cry, no more tears over a silly little thing. No more.
She rushed to her dresser where her phone was. '1 Missed Call From: Eli.' she hit the dial button and pressed the device against her ear. One ring, two rings and he finally answered
"Sorry I didn't answer," Imogen said before he could say anything else.
"It's okay," he answered with a low chuckle. "So what where you up to that you had to ignore your loving boyfriend?"
Oh just getting raped, the usual, oh and afterward cutting my wrist, she thought, biting her lower lip. She wanted to tell him so badly. He couldn't judge her right? He really liked her and she liked him. Honesty was the best policy. She made up her mind and decided to tell him…soon.
"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to sound like I'm…like I own you," he said after she didn't answer.
"No, it's just that I was in the shower," she lied, checking the time; 5:50 already.
"Oh and I didn't receive an invite," he accused with a gasp. "And here I thought we had something special going on."
"Eli Goldsworthy, you know you're invited anytime, any day, any hour," Imogen mumbled.
"Well, I have to go. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah I'm fine," she choked out. "Goodnight, Eli."
"Night, Imo," he said before hanging up.
She was left with her loneliness, her pain and most of all, her rapist.
Um, reviews? : ) This isn't exactly my best one shot but it sort of hit me. I wanted to get a different take on Imogen, not the creepy stalker psycho she is but a vulnerable little girl. Thanks for reading!