Splintered Illusion

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Chapter dedicated to jinnasium for being another one of my biggest supporters! <3

"L-like what?" I asked quietly, my mind flashing to the run-in I had with Owen today at the grocery store. Oh, God. It had something to do with that, I was sure of it.

Puck didn't answer me for a few moments, walking around my room and touching - God - touching everything, his fingers grazing all my possessions from the paintbrushes on my desk to the little cracks in the walls from where my dad threw stuff at when he was angry.

"I think you know what," he said finally, making his way towards where I was sitting on my bed. I scooted backwards as fast as I could, pressing myself up against the headboard with my knees against my chest and my arms wrapped around them.

Puck didn't seem to care, though he did notice - just like he noticed everything else. My heart raced inside my chest as he glided his fingers over my bedsheets, slowly inching them towards me. I jumped a little when he started caressing my thigh, traveling up and up and up, stopping just above my naval. My skin burned underneath my clothing wherever he touched, begging to get away from him.

"Don't you?" he whispered, his eyes now burning holes into mines. I didn't look at him; I was too afraid - and I hated myself for it. "Don't you, doll?" His grip on me tightened threateningly.

I shaked my head frantically and forced myself to say, "No", knowing Puck would be angry if I didn't speak.

Slowly, he crouched down beside my bed so we were eye-level, his dark eyes peering into mines menacingly. "What did I say about liars?" he asked, his teeth gritted.

I gulped and shrunk away from him some more, my breath coming out in short puffs as I racked my brain for some kind of answer that would be satisfying enough for him.

But before I could get the chance to so much as open my mouth, Puck's phone started ringing loudly from his back pocket, startling me. He made an inhuman noise between a groan and a growl, reaching into his pocket and snatching his phone.

"What?" he hissed into the phone once picking it up. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

I swallowed the urge to tell him that the person on the other line couldn't actually see him.

Puck growled again. "The fuck?! Fine! I'll be right there!" And then, he ended the call savagely, shoving his phone back into his pocket before turning his attention back to me. "Saved by the call. But this conversation isn't over yet - I'll be back."

And with that promise, he turned and jumped out of my window. My shoulders slumped in relief, but then I caught sight of my unfinished deer painting.

And I realized what was missing...

The predator.

»« »« »«

My dad came home the next day.

I was upstairs, sitting on my bed stiffly and listening to his loud footsteps downstairs as he made his way to the kitchen, where I prepared him a nice, warm dinner. At the thought of food, my stomach grumbled, but I ignored it. If I was lucky, I'd be able to get an apple from the school's cafeteria tomorrow.

My heart started racing when instead of sitting down and eating, my dad started making his way up the stairs. My breaths came out shaky as he approached my door and threw it open, his enraged face making an appearance through my doorway.

He didn't greet me, smile at me, do anything a normal dad did when they saw their kid after a few days. Instead, he opened his mouth and snarled. "You made spaghetti. I hate spaghetti."

Since when? I thought. Spaghetti is his favorite.

Almost as if sensing my thoughts, he scowled and stalked up to me, grabbing me by my hair and slamming my head roughly onto my headboard, causing me to let out a small cry of pain. "I. Want. Steak!" he yelled. "You bitch can't even make a proper dinner for your own father."

My whole body shook under his gaze, my lips trembling as tears burned the back of my eyes. "I'm s-sorry," I whispered. "T-there aren't a-any in-ingredients to m-make steak."

My dad slammed my head against the headboard again. "Then why didn't you buy any, bitch?!"

"I t-thought you l-liked s-spaghetti," I stuttered, regretting my words when my dad threw me off my bed, my body landing roughly against the wooden floor.

He kicked at my ribs and I cried out in pain, begging for him to stop when he continued. This isn't what dad's are supposed to do - they're supposed to care for their children, not abuse them.

But my dad didn't stop. He just kept hitting me.

And it hurt - so, so bad.

Not sure when the next update will be up, since my thanksgiving break has come to an end :( but I'll try my best to make it happen soon!