Runaway.

2: We meet again...

I hurried up and cleaned my blood off the floor so my Mom and Dad wouldn't suspect anything. I trudged to the bathroom that was in my bedroom, heaving and coughing. This bathroom was just as dirty and dusty as my bed.

        My vision became blurry from the clouds of dust around me, eyes watering a little from some of it getting in my sockets. I growled in frustration and rapidly fanned it all away with my not injured hand and turned the cold water knob on the sink.

        I took in a deep breath and tucked my lower lip under my teeth, preparing myself for the worst. My teeth sunk deep into my lip as I let the cold water wash over my carved palm. Tears rolled down my face like raindrops as I took in the gruesome pain.

        My hand stung like crazy. It felt like it was being on fire, despite the cold water running against it.

        After I let a full minute go by, I quickly snatched my hand away from the pouring water. My hand was shaking as I examined it. The blood was completely washed off, but the carved words remained evidently visible on my sensitive flesh...

        'You are now a victim.'

        I swallowed and breathed heavily. What did he mean by this? What am I a victim of? What did I do? My mind was swirling with questions that needed to be answered, or else I was about to go insane.

        I kept re-reading the 5 words over and over again, becoming more and more terrified each time. Why did this have to happen to me? Why?

I slowly looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were blood-shot red, and my face was soaked with salty tears. The water was still running in the sink.

        I sniffled and cupped my left hand under the water, splashing it across my face. I needed to clear my mind from all this craziness. I needed to calm down before I go all out loco.

        I twisted the knob clock-wise to turn the sink off and let the water drip off my face. I closed my eyes and exhaled, feeling my stress gradually go away.

        I lifted my head to look at myself in the mirror once more. My normal breathing became unstable, as I saw a dark figure standing closely right behind me in my reflection...

        Before I could scream or do anything, he wrapped his arm tightly around me in a firm grip and covered my mouth with his hand.

        I couldn't see his bright golden wine eyes, since his dark brown fallen curls of his afro had covered half of his face. He wore a black shirt with a scary-looking skull on it, a black leather jacket, and black dress pants.

        I was panting hard. I was terrified to death by him. My body shook like a tree in a thunderstorm. I tried with all my strength to escape from his grasp, but his grip just kept getting tighter and tighter.

        Was he actually this stronger than me, or was it me being startled making me weak?

        "Let me f-cking GO!" I shouted, only to be silenced by his hand cuffing my mouth. He had that same evil smirk on his face as he also tightened his hold across my lips.

        "Shhhhh..." he hushed calmly. His lips slightly touched my neck, sending shivers down my back. I was hurting from his tight squeezing. His ice cold body was freezing me since he was so close. He had smelled of rain and dew.

        "You are now a victim, Chresanto..." his menacing voice whispered against my neck, bringing a long, cold steel knife to my face.

        I froze. I could hear my heart pounding out my chest. He ever so slowly ran the side of the knife down my left cheek, leaving a cold feeling against it.

        His smirk turned into a wicked grin as he watched me trembling frightened. "You are now a victim, Chresanto..." he repeated, "...my victim."

        I cried out in pain as I felt the blade cut the space between my jawline and neck. I cursed under my breath and began kicking the deranged motherfucker, but he didn't budge or flinch one bit.

        "Struggling won't get you anywhere I'm afraid." he assured cockily, "It only makes it worse..."

        I continue to scream and kick him, ignoring the fact that I wouldn't ever get out of his grip.

"Chresanto?" I heard a gruff male voice from the other side of the closed door.

        Next thing I know I had roughly fell to the floor, knocking extra things off the sink as I fell. I quickly popped back up, hectically looking around the bathroom.

        He was nowhere to be found. He was gone...

        I jumped as someone banged three times on the door. "Chresanto, you in there?" It was my Dad.

        "Y-y-yeah, I-I'm here..." I called, wiping a single tear from my face.

        "You alright, son?"

        "Y-yeah, I-I-I'm okay..." I lied. I was shaking terribly, making my speech sound stuttery.

        "Alright, son. When you're done in there, come downstairs for dinner. And I've already unpacked all of your stuff to get it out of the way, so you don't need to worry 'bout that."

        "O-okay. Thanks, Dad. I-I'll be down in a few m-minutes..."

        "Alright. I'll tell your mother not to start dinner yet until you come down."

        "Th-thank you..."

        After I heard him completely walk out of my room, I went up to the mirror to look at my neck. It was stinging along with my hand, but blood didn't gush out the cut as much as it did my hand. And the cut wasn't as deep either. I was surprised.

        I stepped out of the bathroom into my half dark room and grabbed my favorite grey hoodie from my suitcase. I slipped it on and put the hood over my head, making sure the cut on my neck wasn't visible for my parents to see.

        I also grabbed a sling from my mini First-Aid kit and carefully wrapped it around my injured hand, flinching once again from the pain.

        I sighed and took one long last look at the window before heading downstairs to join my Mom and Dad for dinner.

        Hopefully that crazy lunatic won't disturb me while I'm eating...

--

A/N: Soooo how was that? I love seeing Princeton being the dominant one, since I hardly ever see him taking control of Roc. ^.^ Should I continue?

Love y'all. ✌