Can We Create Something Beautiful?

-Blake's POV, a few days later-

Eric and I decided to go to the park. We basically sat there and cuddled, cracking jokes the whole time. But the smile on his face wasn't the smile I knew. It was...vacant. Like he was hoping, longing for some sort of fatal moment to come to him. But it wouldn't. Not on my watch, at least.

It came to the time where he had to drop me off. "Baby, I don't want to go," I whined.

"C'mon, sweetheart. I love you, but if you sleep, we can have another awesome day tomorrow."
"Okay. Night, love. See you soon." I leaned over and gave him a lingering kiss. I got out and he drove off, leaving me with a smile.

I unlocked my door and turned on the light. There was total silence, except for a slight cough.

Was someone...here?

No. That's stupid. Nobody was here.

I heard a crash coming from my room.

Somebody was here.

I began softly whimpering, afraid of what I could do. I walked up into my living room and took out my phone to dial 911. But before I could push any buttons, a hand clasped my mouth and another grabbed me around the waist.

"Say nothing," a low voice growled. I began shuddering. My anxiety was beginning to kick in. He jerked me around and looked me in the eyes. He was about 6 inches taller than me, at least. My lip was quivering and I backed up slowly. A tear fell out of my eye, as fright was taking over my entire being.

"You look scared, little emo boy. Your eyeliner is even running, too." He held a knife in his hand. He was an average, boring looking man. He looked sort of like a mixture of Jeremy McKinnon and Dougie Poynter - but had an intimidating feel to him.

I backed up more, stumbling at the sudden impact of the wall behind me. The man smirked. I breathed heavily.

"T-Tell me what you want..." I muttered.
"I don't want anything...but to kill you." I began whimpering again.

"N-No, please, I have a boyfriend...a job...a dream...please, you can't do this to me!" I was hysterical, my words barely even coherent.

"Boyfriend? So you're gay?" The man gave me an evil smile.
"I'm not telling you anything," I hissed. He dropped his knife and grabbed me by the shoulders tightly. "Get on the floor."

I hesitated slightly. What was he going to do?

"NOW!" he shouted. I crumbled to my knees. He laughed slightly and I covered my face. It was hot and wet from my crying - and the man was correct, my eyeliner was running - and he leaned down and kissed me roughly. I backed off from him.

"Don't touch me!" I yelled. He slapped me hard in the face, leaving a tingling, burning sensation. He shoved me back violently against the couch and kissed my neck. It wasn't hot, it didn't turn me on - it was uncomfortable. I was scared. He began almost attacking it. He pulled off my shirt.

"N-No...what are y-you d-doing...?"

He smirked that damn smirk again. "You have a choice. This or dying." No. No. He wouldn't...

I shuddered violently. He unbuttoned my pants and pulled them and my boxers off. He took off his clothes as well. I began crying even harder.

"I knew I would get one like you. So I brought you something."
"One l-like me...what...?" He did nothing but reach into a bag discarded near his sweatshirt and pulled out something long and flesh colored. It appeared to be a sex toy.

Without warning, he shoved it in me. It was a sharp pain, making me whine out in distress. "Shut up!" He forced it in me harder. It hurt terribly, making me want to cry even harder. But it would be all for naught. After a few minutes of me biting my lip, he took it out. He then moved near me.

"Too bad we don't have anything else...suck it up, I guess." He slammed into me, which hurt worse than the toy did. I clasped my hand over my mouth and widened my eyes. The pain was excruciating. He replaced my hand with his and thrusted into me painfully hard, not even letting me get used to the feeling.

"You're pretty loose. You must get laid all the time, you worthless little slut," he spat. That wasn't true at all. I had never received any kind of sex there, whether it be from someone else or myself. He fit barely in me, so he was probably saying that to knock down my self esteem.

After a while, he started hitting me and digging his nails into my back. That just added to all the pain. He thrusted in a few more times until I felt a warm liquid inside me. He came. It was over. It was finally over.

"You're not bad. I'll make sure to be back soon." He gave me a menacing smile, got dressed and left. I went into the bathroom with my clothes and got into the shower, washing the dripping makeup and sweat from my body. I cried heavily in the shower, fear lathering my every inch. He must've been the one who killed Aidmoon. But it didn't matter. This was my life. I would be haunted by this forever.