Protecting Cecilia

Trying to Survive

Weston must have heard the plate crash because his tone has changed and he is asking if I'm ok. I want to tell him no, but I'm frozen in shock. My eyes must be playing tricks on me, I close them for a split second and open them backup but he is still there. Weston is yelling in my ear, "Cecilia....Cecilia are you ok?"

I barely get out in a whisper, "He's here!"

"Who? Who's there?"

"My father." I whisper in the phone.

"What? Cecilia....shit I'm on my way." He doesn't hang up on me. I hear him faintly telling his grandparents to call for help.

"Cecilia....My little Cecilia. You seemed surprised to see me." His voice is deep, rough and a little disturbing considering I haven't heard it in so long. He stands up from the chair, holding his hand out. "Hand me the phone."

"Cecilia don't give him the phone." Weston is yelling in my ear. I can hear his car start up.

"Don't make me ask you again." He says as he takes a step closer to me.

I back up a few steps. "How did you get out?" I ask him.

He sneers, "Really, you think I'm not smart enough to figure a way out."

I shake my head no.

He glances around the room, looking at all the pictures on the walls. "Looks like you're living a good life. Seem to have everything now, those grandparents spoil you. They always did." He snorts. He walks over to the wall and takes down my favorite picture, the one on the beach with sand between my toes. "Damn even take you on vacation...spoiled little brat."

There's a huge lump that forms in the middle of my throat. My heart picks up pace, beating practically out of my chest. My mind races of ideas of what I need to do. Do I try to escape or let him have me? Not today...not tonight I will fight him. I will do whatever I can to survive this. He takes another step closer and instinct takes over and I turn to run back into the kitchen. I am on the other side of the kitchen island.

He smirks, "Why are you running away from me Cecilia; you can't get away from me?"

He starts walking to the side that I am on and I go around keeping his distance from me. I glance at the back door just a few feet away from me. I take off running towards the door. I hurriedly unlock it and just as I open it his hand comes from behind me slamming the door shut. His other hand grasps my hair and twist it just enough for me to cry out. I drop the phone and I can hear Weston yelling on the other end.

"Do you have any idea what they do to guys like me in prison?" He slams my skull into the glass door. "Do you?" He demands as he pulls me back so hard that I fall against the floor and kitchen island.

"Get up."

I try to get up, but not quick enough.

He yells again, "I said get up."

I force myself to stand not taking my eyes off of him. When he takes a step closer to me I dash out the kitchen, stepping on a piece of the damn broken plate. It slices the bottom of my foot and I can feel the blood ooze out. When I step back down it jabs deeper into my foot. I cry out as I continue to run towards the stairs, thinking maybe I can lock myself in my room. I just got to make it up. I'm half way there when his hand wraps around my ankle tripping me. I fall hard onto the steps, knocking the breath out of me. Blood fills my mouth. He jerks me down brutally to the main floor.

I turn around and try to kick him. "Go away you are not wanted here...leave me alone," I scream. I manage to kick him hard enough in the chest and he stumbles backwards but catches his balance. Coming towards me again, this time he grabs my shirt pulling me so close to him that now I can smell the beer on his breath. Funny how I did not notice it earlier.

I want him to leave, how do I make him go away. The only thing that goes through my mind is my grandparents. This is their house; they will be home. "You should leave Grammy and Pops will be home any minute now." I inform him.

His eyes spark of excitement. "Good...I'll kill them after I kill you. They always got in the way anyway." It doesn't stop him. He picks me up all the way off the floor this time and tosses me over, crashing into the coffee table. My books and papers for Spanish go flying in the air.

It's weird how you forget what it feels like being hit till it happens again. Kind of like a paper cut. It happens and you flinch but then forget until the next time thinking oh yeah that's what it feels like. The pain now it all comes back to me. All those years of being hit, I almost forgot what it felt like. I look up at him and I know that look in his eyes. I know he will do what he came here to do. I know he will take his sweet precious time doing it. I see his lips moving but I don't register what he is saying until he grabs my arm yelling at me, "Get the hell up; I'm not done with you."

The front door swings open behind him and he turns to see who is coming in. Weston is about to pounce on him but my father pulls out a knife in front of him, daring him to come closer. "Step back boy; this doesn't concern you."

"The hell it doesn't." He looks over at me. All the color drains from his face. "Cecilia it's going to be ok."

My father turns towards me. "Awe...is this the little boyfriend." He reaches over snatching me by the back of my head with one hand; the other holds the knife that is now at my throat. He looks at Weston and smirks, "You come one step closer and I will slice her throat."

Weston holds up both hands as if giving in to him, showing him he is unarmed. "Look just let her go," he says.

The tip of the knife pierces into my skin and a thin line of blood trickles down my neck. "I suggest you leave. Surely you don't want to die today." He glares at him, daring him.

I can't have anything happen to Weston. I would rather him take me, go ahead and kill me just don't hurt him. "Weston I'm fine....please just go." I tell him. I hope he will just leave but I know deep in my heart he won't.

"Yeah Wes-ton just go, see she is fine." He chuckles.

"I'm not leaving here without her. How about we fight for her. Looks like that's what you want any way to fight, to hurt someone, so hurt me."

"You fight me." He bellows, "You're just a stupid kid."

"Then you should be alright fighting against me."

My father looks down at me for a second before saying, "Sure why the hell not, this is going to be so much fun."

I'm about to argue about it because I don't want Weston getting hurt. I know what my father is capable of. I wasn't expecting him to reach back with his fist, hitting me right across the face and all I see is blackness.

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Authors Note: Sorry I left you guys hanging....please forgive me. Thanks to all my readers who are loving the story, thanks for voting. Let me know what you think.