How Cliche to Have My Heart Stolen

I was able to convince Luke that cuddling was better than what he was planning while Rachel was still in the room. He was hurt, but I didn't know if I was ready, for one. For another, it was just awkward for my first time to be with a friend in the room. Whether or not she'd know what we were doing.

Instead, he settled for spooning. His knees folded into the back of mine. My feet resting on his, keeping mine warm. He didn't even complain about how cold my feet were! With his arms wrapped around my waist, I could feel each exhale while his head lay right behind mine, blowing into my hair.

That's how I fell asleep. Feeling deeply loved. Possibly deeply in love. Feeling each warming breath of my lover. Getting here was hard--almost dying, constantly being hit on by a total creeper, being threatened over and over, leaving my family--still, I kind of wondered if it was worth it.

When I woke up, I looked around and realized the room was empty. The beds were still a mess. Apparently I wasn't the only one who found making beds right after waking up to be a silly practice. I wondered where everyone went. It was obvious that the tape was already torn from the door. Still, I was determined to protect my life. Knowing they wouldn't leave without me, I stayed put. Flipping through the channels on the television set in the room, I sat in bed, slumped over wondering when everyone would be back.

Just short of an hour, in came the crew. Rachel was even there, which, to be honest, took me by surprise. I thought for sure she would have tried to get out through the window.

Luke sat right in front of me and presented two muffins to me. Speckled with blue, I assumed it was blueberry. "We went to get breakfast, since it was free," he commented, placing the muffins on a napkin onto the sheets. "You looked so comfortable, I didn't want to wake you."

"Lies!" Skeeze said. "You tried to wake her and she straight smacked you in the mouth."

"Leave me to my fantasies," Luke joked. "Even if you hadn't hit me... I did want to let you sleep."

I looked at Matt, in his elderly man disguise. He was looking at his son, smiling. I wasn't sure why, I've only seen him yell at Luke, really. Seeing the smile on his face made it seem as though Matt had been proud of his only son for the first time in his life.

Coming back out of my thoughts, I thanked Luke for the muffin, but declined the second one. There I sat, in the clothes of the son of the man who has been threatening my life. Almost feeling safe.

Lalean held tight to Rachel's wrist, dragging her over to sit on the bed where Rachel had slept the night before. "So, boy and girls, what are your plans for today?"

Assuming she was addressing us teens, I spoke up, "I kind of thought you all would have something planned."

"We have an appointment with an acquaintance. You kids are on your own today," Matt informed.

Skeezebo perked up, "I can stay with you if you really want company."

"Ew, I'll pass," I said before I thought.

"Ew?" Skeeze said. "Ew?" His posture straightened from the wall he was leaning on. "Really? You just said 'Ew?'"

I ducked my head in submission, taking a bite of the muffin. I waited for someone to say something, anything to defend me. No one did.

"Answer me, bitch!" Of all the names that Skeezebo had called me, this was definitely the worse. It almost made me miss "baby cakes" "honey" "sugar" even "babe."

Afraid what I could say would make things worse, I stayed quiet.

He started to walk towards me.

Part of me wanted to stare him in the eye and say, "Yeah, I said ew. You're a disgusting creep," but another part of me, the part of me who wanted to live, told the other part of me to shut the fuck up.

Standing in front of me, he stared me down. His hand raised

I swallowed the muffin bit involuntarily.

Before his hand could crash into my face, Lalean grabbed his hand. "She didn't mean anything by it. C'mon, cut her some slack. She's a stupid kid."

Carl, formally known as Skeezebo, pulled a knife from his pocket before shoving Lalean to the ground.

Matt whispered to his girlfriend, "You know not to stand up to Carl when he's on a tangent." I was really wishing someone had told me "Carl" was prone to these tangents.

Seeing the knife, Luke backed off. I assumed he, too, had seen Carl's tangents in the past.

I crawled backwards, still watching him to see if I should try running. A bullet would be a lot faster than whatever Carl was going to do to me.

"No, little girl. If you're going to talk like a big girl, you're going to be treated like one," he promised. Taking my wrist, he made me freeze in place. The muffin fell from my hand. Climbing onto the bed, he straddled my waist keeping me from going anywhere.

"I didn't say ew," I finally spoke. "I said, 'oooo.' Like, I was thinking. And I was saying I'd rather it just be the three of us. Rachel, Luke and me. I didn't say 'ew!'" I lied, trying to save myself from whatever he was going to do to me.

"Lying. What a stupid thing to do. You know, I've been nothing but nice to you, and here you are. Trying to get with Lucas. Lying. Insulting me." Any hurt face he'd ever made was completely erased by a face of fury, pure anger.

My wrist still trapped in his hand, he brought the knife closer to my flesh. When the two met, I did my best to hide the pain. I tried to pretend it didn't hurt. It wasn't until I saw Jared, my brother's name, inscribed on the side of the blade that I began to cry. He was hurting me. He was hurting me with the gift my brother had given me to protect me when he couldn't be there for me.

The blade dug deeper into my wrist. "It's not fun to be hurt is it?" He continued to press the metal into flesh. As he began to saw at my flesh, the blood began pouring down my arm. "Now, ask me to comfort you. Tell me to hold you and tell you it will be alright," he demanded.

As my eyes continued to flood with tears, my vision become blurred. I could no longer clearly see the man on top of me. Nor could I tell him apart from the man tearing at my wrist. I made myself believe it was Luke who would comfort me. I made myself believe it was Carl who was only causing me pain. Not the one who I would ask to hold and comfort me.

I gave in, "Please. Hold me, tell me it'll be okay."

"I don't believe you," he said coldly.

"Tell me it will be okay! Please hold me tightly and take care of me!" I nearly screamed.

"You can do better than that."

"Comfort me. Protect me. Hold me. Don't let me go. Please, keep me safe!"

He released my wrist, but did not get off me. I began to feel my wrist get weak. I let it fall to the bed, hoping to gain feeling in my fingers again. Hearing the clicking of the knife closing, I let out a breath. I was safe now. At least, that's what I thought.

His hand slinked behind my neck, lifting my head just barely. I was surprised when I opened my eyes to see the blurry mass coming towards my face. Even more surprised when I felt lips on mine. Even more surprised when I didn't fight it. I still convinced myself it was Luke. It was all I could do. I didn't want to die. I hoped this would ensure that I wouldn't be killed.

"There, now that wasn't so bad," Carl said, lifting his leg as he got off me, then off the bed all together. He walked out of the room like nothing had happened. "Let's go meet that guy."

"I'm gonna stay here. I want to spend some time with the girls, okay?"

With my uninjured wrist I wiped the tears from my eyes and turned my head to the side. There Luke was. Looking me straight in the eyes. All I could see was hurt. He raised from his sitting position on the floor. "I'll go with you, Dad."

"Luke... I'm sorry," I whispered, which took up more strength than it should have, in a raspy voice, my throat hurting from begging Carl to do what I really wanted Luke to.

Matt said to Lalean, "Make sure you clean those blankets and sheets." He kissed her on the cheek and added, "And bandage her up too."

So there I lay, my wrist still bleeding forming a pool of blood around my arm. I almost died. I managed to piss off and hurt my maybe-possibly-not-quite boyfriend. My only source of comfort? A murdering, bank robbing woman.