Abused, Mute, and Human

Chapter 11

A/N:

I felt like the video to the side or above (depending on your device) is a similar situation Amanda and Conlans' are going through. Also, it made me shake/sob when I first saw it, so prepare to go on the feels train. Enjoy!

(edited)

Amanda's P.O.V

"Hand me the red sharpie?" Conlan asked. I grabbed the colored pen from the mass variety of the pilled sharpie's and placed it in his palm. Since doing a project isn't the most exciting activity, we decided to treat the poster like a surgical patient. Conlan is the doctor and I'm his assistant; It's pretty humorous. "The patient is dying! Hand me the pencil, quick!"

Conlan made the finishing touches, which consisted of writing our names. We both agreed that he should transfer the information, found from our research, onto the poster because of his surprisingly good hand writing. My eyes gazed at his fingers in awe while they gracefully spelled my name in his beautiful cursive. Everything he wrote seemed like a masterpiece.

Much to my dismay, his hand abruptly stopped mid sentence. I carried my eyes up to his to see them looking at my own hands. They were shaking from my food deprivation. Conlans' bear paws covered my tiny hands, keeping them from continuing their small movements. A smile crept onto my lips from the kind gesture.

"I want my food sl*t. Get your a** down here now!" I heard my stepfather yell. I internally groaned. Why did he have to ruin all of my fun? I grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil to write on.

can you go out the window since he didnt see you walk in

Conlan's eyebrows shot up in shock and confusion. "Are you being serious?" I nodded my head in response. "...fine..." He agreed. "...you're lucky you're my m-friend," He finished nervously. Almost like he was hiding something.

Before I could question his actions further, he opened the window and slid down the tree close by. Since I had nothing better to do, I decided not to delay the inevitable and headed downstairs to start making the Devils meal.

My feet padded into the tiled kitchen floor-making my way towards the cookware. Ahriman was already in his chair, shooting daggers at me with his dark eyes, but the feeling was mutual. His gaze turned into a questioning one as he looked at me curiously.

"Why do I smell cologne?" maybe because you wear pounds of that disgusting stuff. Wait...does Conlan wear cologne? I shrugged.

Apparently, I didn't answer his question fast enough, because a second later he had me up against the wall by my throat. Ahriman's fingers latched to my neck, and my hands flew to him in a desperate attempt to free myself and bring air back into my oxygen deprived lungs. I felt his pressure deepen into my windpipe.

"You little WH*ORE!" the devils' breath tangled with the air near my suffering face. "having a boy over at MY house without MY permission," he scoffed in disbelief, while I was slowly losing consciousness. "I should kill you for that type of disrespect, but you're not worth a dent in my reputation,"

And just like that, I could breathe once more. My legs collapsed under me while I was gaining my strength again.

"You're worth nothing. You're useless and weak. No one loves you and no one ever will. Your ugly face is going to die alone. A sad, pitiful death; not a single soul will even show up at your funeral. You're pathetic; thinking that boy will ever notice, let alone like you. Ha, I mean look at you. Disgusting. Want to know what Amanda stands for? A meaningless accident now dying alone. Here's what you are: pathetic, useless, unloved, worthless, ugly. A sl*t. A wh*re. A b*tch. You're only good for one thing,"