Please read, review, and give feedback. This all came to me in a dream so I hope you all like it.
The Darkest Love
Chapter 1
Running.
It was all I could think about. All I could do while trying to escape my destined fate. You're going to die. I knew the words were in my head but they rang loud in my ears, as if their speaker was right next to me.
I ran faster but it was no use my predator would catch up to me in just a matter of a few minutes. We both knew he could have caught me by now but he just liked to toy with me. His own personal game of cat and mouse, and all I could do was succumb to him. The sound of flapping wings registered loudly in my ears. I kept running unsure of what else I could do but not wanting to give up. Trees blurred past me and I heard him call my name from the darkness.
Anastasia, come to me my darling. His voice was seductive and alluring. All I wanted was to go to him but if I did he would kill me. I stumbled over rocks finally tripping. I screamed in agony, my ankle had twisted rendering me immobile. A dark silhouette appeared over me and I knew it was time. Now I would die by the hand of an angel. An angle I loved.
I awoke from the dream drenched in sweat and with my legs tangled in the sheets.
Air.
The thought immediately came to my mind. I couldn't breathe. I reached over to the desk by my bed and grabbed my inhaler. Pushing down on the button I felt relieved when I found air coming to my lungs again. I freed my legs from the sheets and sat upright in bed. Recalling the nightmare I had been having I grabbed my pillow and clutched it to my chest. I had been dreaming about the angel ever since my mother was killed.
My mother, Reece Knight, had always been my guardian angel. She was strong, smart and had always been there for me. Now she was gone and I would forever be alone. A drunk driver had taken her from me. He had torn a huge hole in my heart never to be fixed again. Tears filled my eyes as they always did when I thought about my mother. Wiping the tears from my eye and throwing the pillow on the floor I went downstairs to get ready for school.
My dad was stretched across the couch heavily sleeping with a half empty bottle of beer in his hand. Before mom was killed dad was always the active one. He'd get up every morning and take a jog around the block. Now all he ever did was eat, crap, boss me around and drink till he passed out. Since I was an only child-mom and dad hadn't really gotten around to having the little brother or sister they had promised me- I had no other responsibility than to feed myself and my father.
I settled on making eggs and bacon -dad's favorite- and started the kettle for tea. We didn't drink coffee anymore; it reminded us to much of mom. Dad walked into the kitchen just as I sat his plate on the table. I poured tea for the both of us and sat to join him. We didn't talk much anymore mom had always been the one to start small talk. I sipped the tea as I did every morning since the day after mom's funeral but it always tasted the same no matter how much sugar or honey I used: plain.
I started gulping it down -ignoring the burning it gave my tongue and throat- to see if it got any sweeter as I got to the bottom but it didn't, it never did. No longer able to stomach the food I pushed it towards my dad knowing he would eat it. Without so much as a glance in my direction he pulled my plate towards him and started inhale it like the animal he was. Too deeply engrossed by his breakfast he didn't even notice when I shot up out of my seat and ran upstairs. I ran into the bathroom in my room and searched under the sink for the little bag I hid there. Reaching into the bag I grabbed a razor and a marker. I sat the marker on the tub and put my arm over the sink.
"Notice me now daddy," I said cutting my arm with the sharp blade. It hurt but the pain was good. The one thing that was always there for me, that never died. That always noticed me and left thin, pink reminders on my skin so I would never forget. I ran my arm under the hot water letting it clear away blood. Convinced that the small flesh wound was properly taken care of, I grabbed the marker and went back into my room. In black permanent marker I began to write on the wall my word of the day:
PAIN.
Stepping back to enjoy my artwork I notice the other words that adorned the wall:
DEATH. HURT. ANGER. BETRAYAL. INVISIBLE. BLADE. BLOOD. SANCTUARY. RELEASE. FREEDOM. DREAMS. ANGELS. SADNESS. LIFELESS. LONELINESS. LOVELESS...?
All of the words had been written in a time of desperation. The wall was my storybook. I write what I feel at the beginning of everyday on it. I turned around and noticed the pillow I hadn't picked up yet. I was about to sit it back on my bed when I noticed something. It was a feather.
"What the..." I said to no one. The feather was pure black and looked like it belonged to some kind of bird. Still curious about it, I sat it back on my bed and under my pillow until I got home.
