The Silver Scar

Chapter 15: The Flashback

Jenna nearly growled in frustration. "Why can't you just do this?" I ask. "Why do you have to mark Garrett?" I ask heatedly. "Drake--"

"I don't think you understand what I am saying." Drake said, growing annoyed.

"Mark me." I tell him forcibly. "Me." I step closer. Hoping that for one moment in this bastard's life he does something good. Something completely unselfish. "Please." I beg. It was my last resort. I hated begging for anything from Drake. I hated being in the same space as him-- but I do it for Garrett. Only for Garrett. "Please. Okay? Please." I beg another time. Drake lets out a little laugh, rubbing his gross lips together.

"Oh Jenna, stupid, delusional Jenna," He slurs, "You have never been the brightest cookie have you?" I swallow, masking my undeniable anger. Holding back everything and anything I wanted to say at that moment. "You're weak, Jenna. You want to know why?" He asked through clenched teeth. I held my lips tightly together. Breathe Jenna, I tell myself. "Because I made you that way, because I took the only thing you had left." He smiled cunningly. "You know that."

I wanted to ball up and cry. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to die. I wanted him to die.

"And Garrett will feel the exact same way." He said darkly, "He'll feel helpless, sad, doomed for a horrible life." He smiled and walked closer to me. His hand reached up and grabbed a piece of my hair, tugging it slightly, causing me to fly forward, and closer to him. I let out an angry breath. "He'll be just, like, you." His smile got wider, "Jennnaaa." His foul breath tickled my face. I squeezed my face together in disgust. He didn't like that. "Watch yourself." He growled. I breathe through my nose. The air in my lungs comes in and out sharply. I have never felt this angry before. Not even when Drake raped me. When that happened I was broken. But now not only was I broken, but I was furious. It was a deadly combination.

Drake reached behind him, pulling the knife he used to mark me from his side of the couch. He pulled the silver knife in front of him. The blunt end touched the edge of my face, and my body froze in fear. "See this!" He whispered harshly, "Ring any bells?"

An evil smile overtook his face, "Bring back any memories." He said suggestively. I flinched. The words piercing through my heart. I felt my insides begin to crawl.

"Don't." I warn roughly. Drake runs the knife down my cheek slowly. He is taunting me, showing me that once again the power lies in his hands. He knows that no matter what I do he will always be there; haunting me, taunting me-- manipulating me. He is waiting for my move. He is waiting for me to submit. I won't.

I don't move. I don't want the silver blade to nip at my skin. Drake wouldn't mind if it did.

I didn't want him to see the fear in my eyes. I didn't want to be weak anymore.

"I was going to surprise innocent little Garrett tonight." Drake reveals, his chapped lips turning into a devious smirk. My hands clench together again. Stay calm. Don't let him get to you. He wants a reaction. Don't give him one. "When he gets home Jenna--" He pauses, smiling even wider, "He'll get what he deserves. What he needs."

I try to be strong, but I am weak. "No." I whisper shakily. "No."

Drake licks his lips again. I feel tears beginning to gather at my eyes. "Please-- please don't hurt him!" I beg hurriedly. I am scared. "Please, I'll do anything-- anything." I plead.

The knife finally reached my jawline. He pulled it back, taking a step back as well. He brought the knife up to his sadistic face, and licked the side that was previously tormenting my face. "Mmm..." He teases. Drakes breath gets closer to me, closing in on me. His mouth is close to the cheek he had just assaulted. He grinned, sticking his tongue out and gently pressing it against my cheek, following the path that the knife just seconds ago had. I cringed, absolutely disgusted. He still had power over me, and he knew it. I realized that he always will. I hated that.

"Sweet and not-so-innocent Jenna-- Remember, I took that away from you," He added in tauntingly. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to kill him. "Here is my deal." He said. He stepped closer, if at all possible, so that our faces were almost touching. I didn't move. The knife was still in his hand. He could easily use it on me if necessary. He smiled, pleased that I hadn't moved. His mouth ventured over to my earlobe, grabbing onto it with his teeth. I breathed out harshly, begging the tears wouldn't slip down my face and show him how weak I really am. "How about I take what I want from you, and then Garrett will get his rightfully deserved scar. I wont touch him darling, only the knife will." I felt the steam coming out of my ears. I hate him so much it consumes me. He pulled back, still maintaining closeness. He saw my still expression and laughed airly. I would never, ever, let him do that to me again. Ever.

Drake placed the knife onto the coffee table. His now free hand lifted up, skimming down the side of my breast and stomach. I jerked. "Don't-- touch me." I threatened. Drake's other hand reached up and slapped me across the face. I let out a gasp, not expecting that move.

"Shut up whore." Drake tried to take off my sweater. Without a second thought I kneed him in the balls. Drake growled, grabbing a section of my hair and forcing me towards the couch. I tried to get away, but he threw me onto it, holding me down with his body. I tried to scream, but he covered my mouth before I really could. I would not let this happen again. Not again.

Drake leaned down replacing his hand with his mouth. He tried to stick his tongue into my mouth, but I wouldn't let him. I kept my lips as tight as I could. I kept trying to jerk out of his grip, but it was too tight. I gasped when he punched my side, allowing him access.

I bit on his tongue. Hard. He yells, and I take that as my chance to push him off of me. Drake falls backwards and onto the hardwood floor. Frantically, I reach over for the knife that still sits on the oak coffee table. I grip it with both of my hands. I back away, raising the knife at him, keeping my arms locked outward in front of me. "Don't come closer!" I threaten. Was I prepared to kill him? I had wanted to-- but could I really do it? Kill him? The scary part was that I already knew the answer to my own question. My answer was dark and twisted, and it sounded just like him. He still has power over me-- even when I'm the one holding the knife.

Drake stepped back, not wanting to be plowed by his own weapon. He pressed his hand to the bleed on his tongue. He looked down at the blood. "You stupid bitch!" He rumbled furiously. He held his hand out in a demanding manner. "Give it to me!" He yelled. "Or else Garrett will be severely punished!"

I took in a sharp breath. And for the first time in my life, I told him the words I had always wanted to, "No."

Drake's face filled with anger. "No?" He asked sharply, his scowl deepening as he realized just what I was saying. That I was telling him no. "What the fuck do you mean no!?"

"I mean what I say, Drake." I drawl, just like he had done to me all night. I can see how his face sobers up a little. "I will no longer listen to you. I will no longer be afraid of you." I step closer to him. "I am no longer afraid anymore Drake." I tell him fiercely.

"You have made my life a living hell since the moment you stepped into it. I am done being afraid for Garrett. I am done being afraid for myself. You will no longer have ANY control over me. I'll call the authorities. I'll tell them what has been happening all of these years. Garrett is almost eighteen. They won't transfer him for long. I'll finally do what I should have done a long time ago. I will tell everyone about the monster you really are." I felt tears come back to my eyes, but this time they are not tears of sadness. "I won't let you get away with this anymore, Drake. Not anymore." My voice chokes. Drake's eyes are burning with fury. "It's over, Drake."

He growls and runs towards me at full speed. The next thing I know the knife is lodged into his chest, but I don't stop there. I rip it out of his chest and stab him another time, two more times, three more times, and then it becomes five. I am crying. They are tears of relief. Every single thing I have bottled up for all of these years are being forced into his chest, too many times to count. Drake then falls to the ground, a pool of blood surrounding his immobile body. His eyes were still open. He was still breathing, even if it was light. The knife fell from my weak palms. I stood straight up looking over at his shallow breaths. I am shocked. I--I did it. I am free.

Drake coughed up some blood. "Hm-- call-- the-e copp-s no--w you bitch!" He rasps. I feel like the wind is knocked out of me. I look down at my palms, blood on every part of the skin. Before he stops breathing he smiles. This makes me angry. Angry all over again. He will not win. I have to get out of here. I have to run. I look around the house for anything I could have left, and bent down and picked up the knife. I brought it with me as I run out the door and into the forest.