Razor Sharp | ✓

Nine

♡♡♡

When I wake in the morning, it's not on my own accord. Someone's woken me up.

"Elena."

No one calls me that, except... Andy.

What does he want? This is only going to make my day worse than it needs to be.

"Elena," his monotone voice says again.

He sits on the edge of the hay bale, his eyes piercing through mine. I've never seen a stare as scary as his.

I wipe my eyes, brushing away the sleep. I sit up and move as far away from him as possible. He notices, smirking, but his face soon drops back to his signature frown.

"Why are you still here? Did you not make it clear enough to your father? I thought he'd pick you up straight away. We sent him the address."

Andy doesn't know my father at all. You would think after years of knowing someone, of hating someone, you would know all their little secrets, their tricks.

Andy grabs my wrist, roughly. I cringe when I flinch, twisting my arm out of his hold. "Answer me," he says.

"I have no idea why he hasn't come. Maybe you didn't make things clear enough," I spit, my anger surging through me.

Andy sits back, clasping his hands together in his lap. "You'll need to call him again."

"Why?"

"He clearly didn't understand the urgency of your last message. This time I'll be standing closer, making sure you sound... convincing."

Convincing? What the hell does he mean?

"I don't see—"

"You'll call him," he says, cutting in. I don't respond, looking down at my hands as I trace patterns. I clasp them together when they begin to shake.

"Now, let's see..." Andy trails off, focusing his attention on one of the barn walls. "I think it would be best if—"

"Why can't you call him?" I say.

Before I can even begin, he grabs my chin roughly, pulling my head back to look into his eyes. Pain shoots up my neck and I can't help but flinch. He smirks, holding my chin tighter.

"Listen to me," he begins, pulling me up by my ponytail. I scream from the pain, scared he's ripping my hair from the scalp. "I thought you would have learnt by now not to question me."

I gulp, keeping eye contact with him. Even though my body is screaming at me to cower, fold in on itself, to retreat, I don't.

I've never seen brown eyes, or any eyes for that matter, more soulless than his.

When I was seven, my mother always told me that the eyes are the windows to people's souls. So every day, when I met someone new, I'd walk up to them without saying hello and look them directly in the eyes. I once told someone that the soul I saw in their eyes told me they were rude and stupid and that they should leave my house. The punishment I received from my mother was much, much better than this. I wish that all I had to do now was be sent to my room for the night without dessert. Instead, here I am, standing before the devil himself.

He sends me sprawling to the ground like a rag doll. I don't even have a second to realise what's happening before I hit the ground, hard. I land on my stomach, my face grazing the dirt. I spit out the dust that enters my mouth and wipe away the tears. My arms both sting, but I push off the ground, sitting up. I retie my hair, slowly, painfully. I don't look up at him when he crouches down in front of me.

I fight the urge to spit in his face, but I know that will only bring me more pain. I wouldn't be surprised if he killed me for it either.

"Have you learnt your lesson?" he repeats. I don't answer him. I can't find the energy.

"Hmm," he says, scratching his own chin after dropping mine. "It seems you haven't."

Before I even get the chance to understand what he's talking about, his fist connects with my face. Blood shoots out of my mouth.

I feel dizzy and incoherent when he starts talking again. It feels like I'm underwater as he shouts in my face, inches away from my nose. He grabs me by my t-shirt, shaking me, but all I can do is blink. I'm too worn out to be scared anymore.

"...this, understand? You will make the phone call. I will make..."

His words become unfocused, hazed at the edges. I only hear certain parts. Delirium encompasses me.

"...to me? Are you even..."

My eyes feel heavy. I can only concentrate on the way his eyes bulge with anger, the spit flying from his mouth as he yells at me with so much fury.

Before I can let sleep take over, he's on top of me, his hands wrapped around my throat. That's all it takes for me to wake up completely. I'm so alert now that I feel high, adrenaline kicking in.

"Don't you see what I'm capable of?" he says, his grip tightening.

My eyes bulge, my neck bruises. His hands finally slide off me and I cough uncontrollably. I vomit up last nights dinner, but it's mostly just water.

My shaky hands hold my already sore throat as it throbs. I delicately push on the skin and wince. If I was near a mirror, I'm sure I'd see the bruises already.

Andy doing this to me only makes everything more real. It makes me realise that I'm really here and that I can't trust anyone.

He sighs, long and hard. "You know what? Maybe I will just call him myself. I've got his number now, so why not?"

He steps away from me but doesn't turn around. He hasn't finished yet.

"Seeing as they haven't come to claim you yet," he says, talking about me like I'm some prize that's been won. "I think I'll raise the stakes. Your father will pay me $10,000, a generous offer, really, by the end of next week. If they don't do that and everything else I've demanded, well...I'm sure you and me both can guess what's going to happen."

With that said, he walks off, slamming the door locked behind him.

A few minutes go by before I can pull myself up onto the hay. It takes all the energy in me to work through the pain. When I finally do, I'm panting hard, like I've just run a marathon.

I'm dealing with monsters, worse than the kind that hid in the shadows, scaring children at night. Andy is the worst of them all, the leader, the evilest man alive and I have to live with him for another month.

A whole month.