Won't Turn Out Right

Matt stared at me hard, barely blinking. I swallowed a lump in my throat. I still felt very sad, disoriented, and sleepy. Zacky took his hand away from my cheek and sat next to me with a thoughtful frown on his face.

"Leave." Matt's sudden harsh voice broke the silence. Zacky and Jimmy stood up, wordlessly, and left us alone. I took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out, shutting my eyes tightly, knowing that nothing good was going to come of the events to follow. When the two closed the door shut behind them I suddenly felt angry and betrayed.

They just left me here. With him.

Matt's eyes never left mine. "I'm so sick of this hormonal fucking girl shit." His voice was calm, but in his eyes a violent storm was raging. He walked over to me and roughly grabbed my hair. I cried out sharply.

"Stop! Stop it! NO!" He dragged me back to the bed, tossing me down roughly. He pulled out a pocket knife and opened it with a flick of his wrist.

"Charity, I don't care." I slapped his face hard, proud of myself for a brief second or two before he punched my right temple. I screamed, suddenly seeing stars. He suddenly made a deep slice into my stomach, then another just below. I screamed and cried.

I felt very threatened, growing more and more aware that this... this was probably it. He was sick of me and my bullshit. This was it and I was going to die. Finally. Finally, he was going to put me out of my misery. All this pain that I felt was going to go away.

But... no, I didn't want to die!

I'm a naive, sarcastic, annoying coward.

But I didn't want to die. I didn't want it to end like this.

"Please... please don't." His eyes glinted, making him appear monstrous. His lips turned slightly upwards into a smile. He stabbed the knife right below my stomach. Blood poured out as soon as he took the knife out. I let out an ear-piercing scream. It was the worst pain I had ever felt in my life.

The pain was overwhelming, and the stars dancing behind my eyes grew darker. I was crying uncontrollably, tears and pain nearly blinding me. I tried to move Matt's hands and the knife away, but it came back.

This is what he does best. This was what he does for a living. He's good at it. Why I am so surprised?

He stabbed me twice more in the same spot. I felt dizzy from the blood loss and the shooting pain.

"Why-" I heaved in and out, gasping for air. My lungs started to feel like a hundred pounds.

"You know why." He lifted up a sheet, using it to clean the knife. I coughed and wheezed, tasting copper coming up from the back of my mouth. He flicked the knife into itself again, tucking it into his back pocket again. He cracked his neck and licked his lips. His eyes met mine once more.

I had never seen such an intense look of both disgust and passion on someone's face before.

"S-So... so I'm going t-to d-die? Th-that's it?" I never stopped crying. I couldn't seem to muster up any of that dumb, blind courage I used to have. I covered up my wounds, attempting to stop the profuse bleeding as best I could. He smirked.

"I haven't planned that far ahead. I just wanted to make sure that we weren't going to have any more problems. Having children is overrated, right, Charity? But, now you won't have to worry about that for the rest of your sad, short, pathetic life. You're welcome." He rolled up the sleeves of his jacket, and cracked his knuckles. He trailed a hand up my thigh and I tried to kick him some more. He spread my legs and sat on them, right above my knees. I screamed in pain as he disrupted my old gashes and nearly-broken bones. He laughed softly.

He jammed two fingers into the gash in my stomach and two more inside of me. I couldn't hold back my shrieks and screams and anguish. I tried to plead with him some more, but he ignored me. I tried to push him away, but he easily swatted away my arms with his bloody hands.

"Do you want to die? I would have no problem with that, you know, if you do." I sobbed again, shaking my head.

"I don't want to die. Please stop. Please stop." He let out another low laugh. My ears started to ring again. I wanted to shout and scream and holler at the top of my lungs. I wanted to cry until my eyes were shriveled and dried-up, sore and red.

This was so... unfair.

*-*

Johnny left his old street behind, getting back into his car and driving towards the center of town.

His mind had drifted off elsewhere, he wasn't concentrating on his driving. He didn't really notice when he started driving 45 down a 25 mph street. He really didn't even notice that a police car had been parked in an ally way off to his right until he heard the sirens.

"Ohhh shit."

Johnny didn't want to get caught because he had a record, and because he'd jumped bail last month and was in hiding ever since. It didn't help that he was associated with four other wanted criminals. If he pulled over now, he wouldn't just get a ticket. He was going to jail.

Johnny didn't want to go to jail again.

He started to panic, slamming his foot down on the gas pedal, maneuvering his car around twists, turns, and other cars.

He followed the streets he knew so well until he was nearing the edge of Huntington Beach. He didn't want to get onto the highway. But, he knew that there was a possibility of losing the cop on some back roads in the next town over.

The sirens blared loudly, and the cop was nearly riding his bumper. Suddenly there was another set of sires coming from up ahead.

"Damn it!" He made a sharp right turn down a random street, completely missing the 'Dead End' sign. He drove about a minute until he came upon the dead end. He let out an angry, deep scream. He came to a screaching halt before grabbing his cellphone and wallet and jumping out of the car. He sprinted to the back of some houses, his heart beating in his ears. The cop cars screached as well and there was shouting and barking of dogs. The sirens stayed strong.

Johnny jumped over a fence and fell flat on his face. He stood up quickly, cradling an injured arm to his chest. He swore loudly again. The sound of barking dogs were just on the other side of the fence. He stared wide-eyed and breathed heavily once or twice before running off again.

He heard some more shouting coming from both his left and his right, and he tried to pick up speed. His heart still pounded in his chest and ears, sweat poured down his face in the blaring California summer sun. He eventually came to a small brook in the woods, and jumped over it, nearly tripping on a tree branch. The sound of dogs were about fifty feet behind him. He tried to pick up speed.

There were shouts for him to stop, but of course he ignored them. And, so, before he knew it, his flesh was torn and bitten into by a dog, and he fell to the ground. His head barely missed a rock to his left. The dog growled and shook his head with his arm still in its mouth, nearly ripping out a good chunk of his flesh. Johnny screamed and swore loudly. He punched the dog in the side of its head, but it didn't let go.

Johnny was going to jail.

Johnny fucked up.

Big time.