You took my heart, could I please have it back?

[2] You took my heart, could I please have it back?

OK, so I want to thank all those that became my fan because of this story - evilmindsbloomatnite, AmberxoTwilight and Kitycat :D Thank you!!! And another special thanks to LilianCarmine :D

.:Story Start:.

It was 9:27pm. Three minutes, more or less, until the dreaded moment. It always happened at 9:30 - I don't know how, but it was always irritatingly precise.

I tried going to bed and sleeping through it once. It made it worse - much worse. I couldn't show my face for a week. I tried to mask it with plausible things that could have happened, but never quite seemed to fit. No one ever believed me.

There was a scuffling and scratching at the front door. I tensed on a bar stool, closing the ancient book I had been reading. This was it. This was the moment...I slid off the chair, tensed and ready, waiting for it.

The door finally opened. Thuds and curses emitted from the hallway, guttural and foul. The stench wafted into my nostrils - alcohol.

"Ee-liz-ba," came a grunt from the hall. I supposed he was trying to say my name. Charming. I took a deep breath and walked into the hallway. "Ee-liz-ba!!!"

I turned to look. There he was, just like I knew he'd be. Stubble encrusted on his cheeks. Bloodshot eyes. A bottle of Carlsberg in his hand, empty, raised above his head while he leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, squinting at me. I swallowed and glared at him coldly.

"Wheer - ma - breer..." he slurred, unable to speak properly due to his intoxication.

"I think you've had enough beer for tonight," I replied sternly, bravely stepping forwards and holding out my hand for the bottle. He glared at me. "Gimme - ma - breer!!" he shouted, clenching the bottle hard in his hand. I shook my head firmly, my palm still outstretched.

He took three steps forwards - unnaturally precise - and swung the bottle round. I ducked, and took a step back, ready to retreat to the bathroom and lock it as I had done so many times before.

He staggered forward again, and this time his bottle came into contact with my right shoulder. I cried out in pain as it smashed and blindly fumbled for the remains of the bottle, trying to wrench it out of his grasp, but he just grabbed my wrist and twisted it round. It was impossible to escape from his iron grip - he was skinny but wiry and tough.

My leg kicked out and hit his leg, and he grunted in pain, and, already unbalanced, fell to the floor. I crawled away, slumping against the opposite wall, clutching my bleeding shoulder, probably digging the shards of glass further.

He grasped the stair post and, with more strength than I thought possible for a drunken man, heaved himself upright. One arm still hooked round the stair post, he waved the destroyed bottle at me.

"Gimme - ma - BREER!!!!" he shouted, his face colouring red in fury, spit flying from his mouth. Cringing away, I still denied him alcohol. We had none anyway. "ARGH!!" he shrieked, and lunged forwards. The jagged edge of the bottle was inches away from my face before I dived of the way. He kept going and smashed into the wall, dropping the bottle and yelping.

I stumbled as I tried to stand upright, heading for the stairs, but he was quicker - he tackled me and punched me in the face, his knee in my stomach as I lay in the hallway gasping for air. He punched me repetitively and, out of desperation, I punched him back. With a cry of fury he buried his thumbs in my windpipe, wrapping his fingers round my neck, cutting off my oxygen supply. He was made of stone, I swear - I could not budge him an inch.

I was probably turning purple - the helplessness of just laying there as he strangled me was unnerving, I could do nothing, say nothing. I was willing myself to scream - but I knew no one would come. I squirmed, my mouth opening and closing like a fish, when finally he let me go. He fell back wards with a grunt, glaring at me. I massaged my neck and inhaled and exhaled quickly, savouring the ability to breathe.