Intimate Stranger (Editing)

Chapter 25: Katie

COPYRIGHT © SARAH MARTIN 2015

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THIS BOOK OR ANY PORTION OF THIS BOOK THEREOF MAY NOT BE REPRODUCED OR USED IN ANY MANNER WHATSOEVER WITHOUT THE WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR. ANY UNAUTHORIZED COPYING, BROADCASTING, MANIPULATION OR INFRINGEMENT OF THIS COPYRIGHT IS PUNISHABLE BY LAW.

This is dedicated to my friend Trace (yes, he's a real person, calm down). The song is "Outta Control" by Thousand Foot Krutch and the pic is Natalie Portman who plays Katheryn. Make sure to vote! Do it before you read so you don't forget ^_^

Part Twenty-Five
Saturday, February 13, 2010

"Steve!" I called, my voice hoarse. "Steve, get back in here!"

A few moments passed and then we heard Steve's footsteps approaching from outside the room. He unlocked the door and came in, his face still red from his outburst.

"WHAT?" He barked, his brows furrowed.

"We need to use the bathroom," I told him.

His eyes softened but he still looked annoyed, "All of you?"

I nodded meekly, afraid of what his response might be. He pondered this for a moment then sighed, scowling, "Fine." I breathed in relief, "But use the bathroom across the hall so I can keep an eye on you."

He stalked towards me and untied me so I could go first. When I was loose, I stood up and stretched, wincing at the pain of my feet and ankles.

I headed for the door and he stopped me by grabbing my arm and forcing me to face him, "Katie," he barked, "No funny business, do you hear me?" He insisted with a serious glare.

I nodded and he seemed satisfied. He accompanied me to the hallway,where I shivered from the cold since I was still in my underwear, crossing my arms to my chest.

We stood outside the bathroom. The door was wide open and he commanded, gesturing inside, "Go. Five minutes."

Vigilant, I slid past him into the bathroom and closed the door, while he kept his eyes on me.

When the door was locked, I took a deep breath and leaned up against the sink counter, thankful to finally be alone.

I looked at myself in the mirror and was horrified by what I saw. I didn't look like myself. I was a broken shell of a girl. My hair was dishevelled, my make-up smeared across my face by tears, and my body was carved in multiple places from a knife, which would undoubtedly scar, reminding me forever of how they came to be there. I looked down at my body and traced the X that Steve made in my skin on my abdomen. The blood was dry but if I wasn't careful it would probably start seeping again. Why did he do that? I asked myself. There must have been some kind of meaning for him to do something as random as that. Something symbolic, maybe? What could it be? I wondered.

I touched the cut again, wincing slightly. It didn't hurt near as bad as it did before. But then again, my entire body was aching so maybe I had just built up a tolerance to it. I grimaced, sick of looking at myself. So I grabbed a towel off the hanger and wrapped it around my body.

I closed my eyes, positioning my palms on the counter. You'll get out of this, I told myself. I stood there in the bathroom repeating that mantra over and over to myself until I was repeating it out loud. But Trace worked his way into my thoughts and suddenly it was like I had been punched in the gut. Trace wasn't getting out of this because Trace was gone. Forever. He was gone forever and I would never be able to tell him how much I loved him and how sorry I was that I got him into this. His death was my fault and I would never forgive myself for it.