Burnt Ashes. ✔️

He never saw it coming.

He was in my room, and I couldn't help my heart beat loudly in my chest. No, it wasn't fear, it was different than all the other nights, I felt excited, thrilled to get this over it. Now, I only had to wait for him to make his next move.

I could hear him approach my bed, I could feel his shadow over me. Like death coming in to collect his next soul.

I could sense him leaning, the routing coming vaguely too familiar, too casual. It was always the same shit. Over and over again.

I remained still, pretending to sleep, pretending to be in a great slumber. I was usually asleep by now, I always was. I would love going to school every day in order to be as far away from this dump I call home.

Jonna, my little brother would look so happy in his kindergarten school, so happy with the other children, so innocent.

I won't step back on this. I won't.

 He sat down on the edge of my bed, crawling to the empty spot behind me, where the wall was, and he lay there, before he began passing his gruesomely gross hand up and down the side of the curve of my body. 

I resisted the urge to punch him. But I knew better, I knew I wasn't strong enough to fight him, I never was.

 "Emma, wakey-wakey," he whispered, trying to sound seductive. Pig. He shook me, in efforts of waking me up. He didn't really care if i was asleep or not, he just wanted me to know, to remember everything. Sick bastard.

 "Mhm," I muttered groaning, faking to protest and not be awakened. If only he knew what was coming for him.

He then growled, like the beast he is, and abruptly spun me over, him now on top op me, and I fully laying on my back. This was too familiar, to repeated.

I was prepared.

 He slowly began clutching and touching me everywhere, as though he's never done this before, as though he had never felt me cry myself every night for what he did to me, For what he would do, for what he thinks he's about to do.

I had the weapon protectively held, by my stomach, which he just hovered over. He had himself restrained over me with his arms and legs. Trying not to crush me beneath his worthless body. Like he even cared.

I waited for the moment he'd do it. In just the right moment of being on cue, he slapped me in the face. I hurriedly opened my eyes, and squinted back the tears from my eyes.

Now I could see his pearly white smile shaped in the most wickedly form seen. i could see his blue eyes glowing as he savored and thought of what he thought came next.

He leaned down and gave me a sickening kiss, I didn't move, I knew better. I just laid there, waited, and kept my mouth shut.

He kept forcing his hand up and down my body, trying to get me to respond to his sick game and 'play along'. I never did. That's why he always said I needed to be punished for it.

 He bit down hard on my bottom lip, causing me to wince back in pain, feeling as he had broken it, and it was beginning to bleed, he smiled at me, showing me my blood on his lips. I could taste the metallic taste of my blood flowing from my busted lip.

 Now, he was just about to do what I dreaded, yet waited so patiently for.

He pulled out a little thing from his back pocket, a condom. I began to cry, just like I always did, which would always cause him to laugh and lick my face, tasting every tear. Sick pervert.

He moved his hands under my shirt, where all my bruises hid, he touched, and froze when he felt something, something cold; this was it.

He noticed the weapon I held, and looked back at me with a fire of hatred on them, directly directed to me, "What is that?" He hissed with venom.

"What, this?" I said sarcastically as I pointed it to his forehead.

 "Emma, what do you think you're doing?" He asked, and I could hear the faint strained chirp of fear hidden behind it. Oh, good, you should be.

 "Aiming to shoot you," I spoke calmly, as I gave a smile of my own appear on my face.

"Stop in this right second your stupid-"

He never got to finish. As I heard the loud bang of the gun's bullet coming out and having direct contact with his head, I felt him fall over me. making me feel the weight of him over me.

I pushed him off, and quickly began to work on this scene before someone called the cops. I grabbed unto one of his limp hands, and pulled it against me, close to my neck, I made sure that his dirty long nails were near, and I scraped down, leaving nail scratch marks. Already bleeding down.

I did a couple more on my arms, stomach, and legs. I looked myself on the mirror, and I could faintly see where he had slapped me. I need more. I fisted my hand, and punched myself, especially in the eye.

I'm the victim here, this has to look more believable. I could already hear the sirens getting closer to our house.

I went to my position, just like I planned, and I lay down on the floor rocking myself back and forth. Crying myself out. Too bad they won't know that these tears are fake. 

Soon enough the police got in the house, guns and tight senses on, as they had banged the door down, and where searching through the house. Two of them made it quickly to my room, and saw the perfect scene displayed in front of them.

I was crying, ignoring them, well, I was pretending.

"Over here!" one of them called, to their other police mates. Soon enough they all made it in there.

Without knowing, I was already outside, they had called the paramedics, my mom had suffered a couple blows on her head, and she had blacked out after her last attempt of pleads. She was okay, and so was the baby. Good. My little brother was found crying, hidden in a small corner by the drier, in the laundry room.

I on the other hand, did the best I could to keep up with my plan, the police officers found the gun, and held it as evidence; they asked me everything that happened. And I told them everything, I told them, just as planned, that my step-father came up to my room. 

I told them that he was hitting me, and he was just about to do as he pleased with me when I held the gun to his head, crying for him to stop, but he didn't, I told them that he laughed, and ran his nails roughly on my skin, scratching, making me bleed all over. 

I told them that I couldn't take it, and I - I just pulled the trigger.

They filed it as a self-defense case, and told me that everything was going to be okay. I cried and they looked sadly at me, feeling sorry for me. They didn't know that inside I was happy, I was free. We were free.

Funny thing is, that: 

He never saw it coming. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay, so this just came to mind, and I just had to write it. So, I hope you guys like this little short story I wrote. It's 1:16 a.m. at the moment, and I started this at 11 something. I should be asleep, but I just couldn't help it. Posting until today, because my sisters were nagging for me to go to bed, so yeah. (: