traitor ¥ sweet pea

1-7

"Raphael would kill him in front of you if he knew the things that boy says to you." I wouldn't look away from the blood filled screen, I was horrified by Malachi's threat. That he had gone through my phone.

"You're lucky you're smart enough to not put names to the things your ashamed of." Malachi taunted not understanding that I hadn't put names just in case something like this had ever happened.

The males of my family were obsessive and deeply controlling.

"Don't worry," He started with a cruel smile, "I won't tell until I know it all."

"Don't think I don't know it's not one of us." A chill seemed to pass through me at his knowledge.

I forced myself to act unbothered, to force myself though the desire to stay silent. "I don't care enough to put names to my hookups."

Malachi smiled but stayed silent as my father came back in with two beers. I pushed myself back into the couch as he reached across me to hand Malachi the other beer.

My fathers forearms were the size of a thick stick, the type you would trust to swing on as a child. His arms were covered in scars and dark hair, his hands covered in calluses from a life of hard labor. Hands that could snap my neck with little effort. Raphael had never taken off his wedding ring and sometimes when he would wrap his hands around my throat the ring would leave a red mark for hours, sometimes I found myself wondering if it would leave a bruise if he killed me.

It bruised my face when he would hit me, I couldn't imagine the color it would be if he used that hand to drain the life out of me.

I watched as a young looking girl with dark hair had her throat slashed open, my father smiling over at me from the corner of my eye. I knew what he was thinking about, that he was imagining doing that to me.

My back and legs had began to ache at how tensed I was, I tried to force my muscles to relax but nothing worked.

I let myself think of Sweet Pea.

I imagined his arms wrapping around me as I leaned into him, allowed myself to pretend to feel his warmth and let myself believe I was safe. I repeated in my mind that I would survive because I had to get to Sweet Pea. If I got there- when I got there I would be safe and nobody would hurt me.

Sweet Pea wouldn't let anyone hurt me.

Five maybe six hours later with three snuff films viewed Malachi finally stood from the couch giving me the chance to move, without suspicion, to the garage again. My stomach felt gurgling and my brain seemed sick with anxiety and stress.

As I locked myself into my backseat I dared to open my phone.

6:34 pm:
SP: you're coming tonight right?
7:43 pm:
SP: everything okay?
8:14 pm:
Two missed calls from SP
10:17 pm:
SP: i'm sorry if i did something to piss you off but i would appreciate it if you just let me know you're okay

My chest ached as I looked at the last message that was sent over an hour ago, my time reading 11:42 pm. I thought back to Malachi confessing he read my messages.