The Girl With Tattoos • Original Version

The Girl With Tattoos (39)

- For the pressure points that occur later in this chapter, they actually really do hurt a lot. When my dad does them to me when I annoy the living hell out of him, damn, in that moment, I just want to die. Hopefully I described it well enough, too. I felt this wasn't my greatest moment in this book lol...

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I ran through the parking lot, the wind slapping my face and blowing my hair rapidly as I dodged multiple cars and avoided countless disasters. The images flashed throughout my mind as I imagined his dirty hands holding my waist in place securely on the wall, his drunk breath circulating through my senses, his beady green eyes eating away at the skin of my bare neck. His teeth grazing my jaw that sent shock waves of disgusting shivers up my stomach and shaky sighs out my mouth.

It was the little things that triggered the flashbacks.

Like the times Crater kissed me softly a day after he did something; how I used to freak, and body slam him into the hard, concrete ground. How I, Gracelyn Marollo, escaped the reality of the situation and was sucked into a new one; one where everything I did reminded me of something. It was never good.

Why was I like this? Why was I such a fuck up?

I ran fast, so fast it felt I wasn't on Earth. I was light; I was the air; I was the sun shining brightly onto my skin and scorching my face until I couldn't open my eyes fully. 

I was the girl who ran away from her problems instead of facing them head on, leading her to inevitable and inescapable death; the death that would release her from the grasps of every demon that held onto her since she was born.

Coughing harshly, I felt the dryness of my mouth and looked up into the blinding sky and screamed. Screamed so loud nearby people might think I was being murdered. 

I might as well be. It sure as hell felt that way. Being slowly suffocated by the garbage bag wrapped around my face keeping me inside my little bubble of uselessness and need. My space of loneliness and despair. The tiny part of my life that never missed a chance to cloud my judgement like a drug. That microscopic fragment that always found a way to seem greater than it actually was.  

I fell to my knees and watched the sweat drip with a sweet rhythm to the concrete sidewalk from the ends of my drenched hair. My breathing was unregulated and I panted as I tried with every fiber of my being to not pass out in the middle of the city. 

"Is she okay?" A young girl whispered as her mother tugged the kids hand softly. Her soft brown eyes filled with compassion stared me down as she stopped beside me, ignoring her mothers demands to keep walking.

"Sweetie, she was probably just going for a run and forgot to stop when she couldn't go farther. Come. We'll be late for Katie's birthday party," The mother whispered lowly, like she didn't want me to hear, yanking on her shoulder as the child stumbled away from me laying on the ground, a smile resting on her face as she was dragged away and and dissapeared around the corner of the street.

I smiled back to no one as I dropped my head to the floor and wrapped my arms around my neck, feeling the pebbles dig into my forehead and create deep craters into my skin.

Fuck.

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