Cold Blood

❥Chapter Forty-one❥

Written by ChemicalWonderland

Ash POV

Everett's dad enters the room, a dark gleam in his eyes. He conceals a weapon behind his back that I can't see, and I believe I'd rather not see it. Shivers cascade down my spine like water, but I force myself to sit up strong and tall. I can't show any sign of vulnerability or weakness around him. I've already shown too much.

"What do you want?" I demand harshly so that my words don't sound like a question but rather a command.

A smirk crawls across his face, and he steps closer to me, so close I can smell his rancid breath. "I think I'll be the one asking questions here," he replies smugly, towering over me as his dark shadow is cast across my body. How can someone make me feel so immensely small and powerless?

I respond in the only way I can think possible under the scrutiny of his gaze. Of Everett's gaze. "Well someone needs some mouthwash," I retort, feeling a sick cackle push against my ribs. I give him my best glare, one that I only hope appears seething with hatred.

He mocks offense, stepping back from me just a bit and raising his eyebrows in surprise. He puts a hand to his chest so he looks taken aback. "You've got an awful lot of attitude today, huh Ash?"

He smacks me across the face abruptly, delievering the sharp blow before I can even formulate an answer. Pain crawls up the side of my face, stinging but not terrible. I pretend as though the hit hasn't affected me, looking up at the monster through dead, hollow eyes. "Is that the best you've got?"

"The best I've got? So you want more then?"

He reveals what he had concealed behind his back: a rusted old wrench, it's once silver luster now dull and chipped. I feel like cold water has seeped into my bones, making me freezing all over.

"Don't like this?" he asks, waving the wrench in front of my face tauntingly. He finds joy in my pale, bloodless face and tense demeanor.

He then proceeds to whack me across the face with it, right along my jawline. The sensation is so painful I feel like crying out, but I bite it back. The metal making contact with my skin is nearly as cold as I feel, harsh and unforgiving as it collides with my face, hitting bone with a resonating thud.

Tears spring up in my eyes, and I can already picture the purplish-blue bruises that will soon sprout there like blossoming flowers. A hiss escapes my mouth, weaving through my teeth despite me control over my body. A smile of satisfaction lights up Everett's dad's face.

"Now that's more like it!" he roars enthusiastically, obviously pleased with himself. That only serves to make me hate him a bit more, if that's even possible. "Want it again?"

I tell myself not to respond, to just suffer in silence. He glares at me, suddenly agitated. "I said, want it again?"

I simply cast him a look that says 'what do you think'. He clenches his fists and looks like he wants to hit something, that something being me. Like an angered parent dealing with an insolent child, he explodes, a fire coming to life behind his blue eyes. Cold fire. "ANSWER ME! DO YOU WANT IT AGAIN?"

I hold back a smirk, glad to know that I can get under his skin. If I can do that, maybe I can also escape. He raises the wrench and prepares to bring it down after a few seconds of my silence, and I brace myself for the oncoming violence.

The pain the second time around is more brutal, more direct, hitting the area that had numbed over senselessly. I stifle a cry, chomping down on my tongue. I refuse to budge, keeping my head bowed and eyes diverted to the ground. Everett's dad's laugh echoes in my ears, filling the empty space. I shut my eyes, the laugh is so similar to my own father's. It makes me feel for a second like I'm back in my past. But you're not, you're not, you're not, I repeat over and over to myself. But the onslaught of memories is already pouring over me.