Do I?

Chapter 11

Cynthia POV

Dream

"Please, don't do this to me. Who are you? Why do you want me? Why not someone else?"

"Well, sweetheart, you see, stop asking questions. Don't talk. We'll get our work done with."

I count see their faces. It was dark, and I couldn't call out for help, obviously there was no one around. It was 1:00 in the morning. Who would be out at this time? They tied a rag over my mouth, so that I wouldn't scream. I tried to scream, even if they put a rag over my mouth. My screams came out muffled. I sneaked my phone out from behind me, and texted Mother my location.

'Help!' I texted to her. 'Get the police. I am scared.'

I cried. I don't know for how long, but I cried. They came closer, and closer. They ripped my clothes off, and touched me places where they shouldn't. They beat me up, and torchered me. They were monsters. In a distance, I heard a woman, crying out my name.

"Cynthia! Cynthia!" The voice called.

I tiredly opened my eyes, to see that in a distance, there were people. A woman, and two men, and sirens going off. I heard a gunshot. That was all I remember.

End of dream

I gasped as I came back to my conscience. Tears were falling down my face as I was breathing heavily. I looked around, to see that I am safe at home, on my bed, in between Michael and Aiden. I wiped the sweat and tears of my face, and went to the bathroom to wash my face.

After I washed my face, I went downstairs to fetch a glass of water. I turned the light on, and drank a glass of water. Putting it aside, I took a seat, fixed my hair. My watch caught my eye. 5:00 am. Pretty early in the morning. I decided to just read a book that was lying down. I was about to pick up the book, until I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around to see Aiden approaching me.

"Can't sleep?" He asked. I shook my head as a 'no'. "Same here."

"I had a nightmare."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." There was an always silence in between us.

"So, um, I would like to ask you a question, if you don't mind." I nodded. "Um, could you, explain your cuts?" He asked, scratching the back of his neck. I tensed at the question. "You don't have to tell me if you don't feel comfortable." He said

"No, it's okay. You would have to know anyways. I will just tell you now."

"Go on."

"It all started four years ago. After my Mother died. Father never loved me. He's always wanted a boy. He never wanted a girl, although Mother always loved me. After Mother died, Father hated me even more. He says that I was the one who caused Mother's death. And I agree with that. Right after Mother died, Father, Michael and I moved here. Father became an alcoholic and a drug addict. After his work, he would come home drunk, most of the time. He would abuse me, and call me names. I suffered everyday, and I went into depression. Michael was very young. He was about one to two years old at that time. And then, I joined school here. That's where you came in."

"Wait, me? What have I done?"

"Everyday, I would give myself three cuts. One because of Mother's death, one because Father doesn't love me, and the last one. This might surprise you a little. The last one, is because of you. I was new to the school. I thought I would be a little bit happier in this school. You," I pointed at him. I started to raise my voice. "You were the one, with your friends, who would tease me everyday. You don't care, about anyone. You don't know how it feels." Tears started forming in my eyes.