Love Me More

Chapter 11

-Ren's POV-

I rolled out of the way with a yelp, my heart beating quickly in my chest. Kylen turned to me, his eyes terrified but hopeful.

"Kylen, listen to me!" I yelled.

Tears began falling out of his eyes as he rushed me. I dashed out of the door and swiveled around as Kylen followed me. I dodged another swing and grabbed his waist from behind. Kylen screamed and kicked, swinging the knife around in his tantrum, and I winced as it sliced me in the thigh.

With a grunt, I grabbed his knife hand and held it still as he thrashed in my arms.

"NO! I NEED TO SEE LEON! HE PROMISED!!"

I tightened my grip on his waist, and he yelped and loosened his own on the knife. Taking it from him, I tossed it on the side and pinned him on the couch. "Listen to me, Kylen!"

"NO! LEON TOLD ME YOU WOULD TRY TO TRICK ME! HE'S STILL ALIVE!"

I frowned. "No, he's not. Kylen, you saw-"

"If he's not alive, then HOW HAS HE BEEN SENDING ME THE LETTERS!?"

I froze, and a foreboding fell over me. I remembered the note I'd seen before he had tried to kill me. "What letters?"

Kylen, almost as if mirroring me, was still and matched my even tone. "The letters. Telling me that wasn't actually him. He said that you had staged it so you could have me to yourself. He said you would try to convince me that he was dead and that he wasn't. He promised me he would come find me if I killed you."

Memories from my past came flooding back, and terror pooled in my heart. Sweat formed on my forehead, and I began shaking. I slowly let go of Kylen and backed away. "No, no, no, no, no...no, not again, please no."

Kylen sat up. "No, what?"

My brain just barely comprehended that at least he wasn't trying to kill me, but right now, that major fact seemed unimportant compared to the realization I had just come to. No wonder the handwriting had looked so familiar.

I swatted at invisible hands forever grasping my shoulders, gasping and shuddering. Kylen now looked concerned. "Ren?"

"NO!" I sobbed. "I WON'T LET YOU!!"

Alarmed, Kylen flinched away. "I knew it...you don't want me to see Leon. He told me you'd keep me away."

I realized that he had heard my words in a different meaning, but I didn't care. I needed to get out of here. Out of this country, this state, this side of the world. I needed to leave. I had to escape. Suddenly claustrophobic, I looked at the walls around me in fear. "No," I gasped.

I turned and ran out the door, tripping over the door frame as I went. Kylen didn't call after me, but I didn't care about Kylen anymore. I just needed to get out.

"Where are you going, darling?"

I turned, but there was no one there. Tears falling in earnest, I sprinted down the stairs and dashed into the parking lot. I threw myself in my car and sobbed. A warm hand caressed my elbow.

"They're just toys," he whispered.

I screamed and swatted at the vacant passenger seat. "GO AWAY, AND STOP RUINING MY LIFE!"

I curled up into a ball, hating my life. "What did I do to deserve this? What did I do...?"

Memories of his sharp voice and less than loving embrace filled my head, and, as though running away would make them leave, I shoved my key into the ignition, and flew out of the parking lot. I drove as fast as I could, not caring where I went, and only caring about escaping the past. Every red light I stopped at made me grow cold, as though I could feel his breath on my neck, making me shiver.

Finally, I pulled into a random parking lot. I turned on the music and flipped the volume to as loud as it could go, hoping that the noise would engulf me. But instead, it sent another wave of terror crashing through me as his voice filtered through the radio.

I screamed and turned my car off. The song he had written for me had seemed sweet at first, but now it was terrifying. I'll never stop looking for you. 

He had kept his promise to those lyrics. After a decade, he'd finally disappeared. But now he was back, and I knew I wouldn't be able to run away this time. I took deep, shuddering breaths, my heart in overdrive.

"Just go away! Just go away..." I sobbed.

"They're just toys."

I covered my ears desperately, but the words echoed in my head.

"They're just toys. Who cares if they get a little scratch on them?"

The dam I had created to block the memories I had tried so hard to forget broke as my past came back to punch me in the face.

16 year old me, in a hospital bed, my breathing labored. All I felt was pain, and more pain. In the corner of my eye, I see him. The one who caused this.

He was talking to two people, a smile on his face. "They're just toys. Who cares if they get a little scratch on them?"

The first person laughed, a terrible laugh that echoed throughout my head.

The second person swatted at them both. "I'd hardly call that a scratch! That scar on his belly is never going away."

He laughed at the second. "Oh, come on, darling."

The first person's words were punctuated with a grin. "Yeah, they're just toys. And you know what happens when toys break."

"They get tossed in the trash," he said. "And you know what happens when a little kids' toy doesn't do what he wants it to do? Take a guess, darling."

The second person sounded scared. "I-I don't-"

"Ah-ah-ah, shh," he whispered. The second whimpered as the first crept up behind them.

"Now, darling, you won't tell them it was me, would you?"

The second shook their head profusely, terrified. "No, of course not. They're just toys."

"Hmm..." He took a step back, and the second slumped. "I would love to believe you, darling."

The second froze. "B-but you can! I-I swear, you can!"

He laid a reassuring hand on their shoulder. "Can I?"

Next thing I know, he and the first are screaming for help. The second is on the floor, their neck sliced, a bloody surgical knife in their hand.

Later, when the second is taken on a gurney, he stoops over me, a kind smile on his face. "No need to pretend like you didn't see anything. Your heart rate monitor gave it away. But you won't tell anyone, will you?"

Fear caused my monitor to speed up, and his smile softened. "Scared, darling? You should be."

Pain erupted through me as he pressed down hard on my stomach. 

Back in the present, I lifted my shirt. A large scar stretched from my chest to the very end of my torso. I remember Kylen asking me why I didn't take my shirt off in bed. I gave him a bullshit answer, but the truth would've brought up worse questions. And the truth was a single name.

Almost as if the universe was laughing at me, an electrical sign on the side of a building flashed brightly with the face of the person who had ruined me. Bright letters shined beneath that face, a name that I hated and feared with every part of me.

"Darius," I whispered, "...he's found me."

...

yes, mothertruckers, he has a traumatic backstory :)

also this is the longest chapter i've written in a long time so:) btw if you have any story ideas you'd like me to try and write, lmk and i'll try one <3