My dad grabs me by the ankles, and drags me towards the dreaded basement. I try to grab anything that will help me but to no avail. He learned from last time. He drags me down the stairs, and I scream.
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My dad is running towards me. I keep dodging him, trying to evade the knife.
"Caitlin, come here. I just want to hug you," He slurs.
"Get away from me!" I scream, but he's caught me. I am forced to the ground.
Just as he is about to plunge the knife into my right arm, I am violently shaken awake.
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"Caitlin!" A voice yells. Preston. I sit up, shaking. "You were screaming." His face softens.
"I-I just had a little nightmare," I respond. "I'll be fine."
"You sure?" He asks, worry etched into his face.
"Yeah," I respond. He gets up off of my bed and opens the door. "Wait..." I say, afraid he will say no.
"What?" Preston kindly asks, turning towards me.
"Will you... Sleep with me tonight?" I quietly ask.
"Of course," Preston responds.
He comes back over to me and gets under the covers. "Thank you," I whisper. I snuggle into him and he wraps his arms around me.
Before I fall asleep, I hear him faintly reply, "Anything for you." And then kisses my forehead.
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I am woken up by the sound of somebody falling. I look to see Preston still asleep with his arms still around me... So... Then who's here?
I wiggle out of his arms and go into his room, where his baseball bat is. I grab it, and look down the stairs. Nobody. I feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist and one over my mouth. I am shocked, but it was only Preston.
"What's wrong?" He whispers.
"Intruder." I quietly respond.
"Well, as Call of Duty master, I'll go first." I roll my eyes, knowing that I have crushed him multiple times at the game. He grabs the bat from my hands. "And if anything happens, I'd like to leave you with this."
Preston kisses the top of my forehead. I blush, and he smiles. "Ready?" He asks.
"Yeah, let's go." I respond.
We crouch low, and I hear another crash. I immediately grab Preston's arm; this reminds me too much of home.
"It's okay," He comforts. I let go of his arm, and we silently head down the stairs. Still no sign of anybody.
And then I see him in the living room.
A guy about six foot eight, with sandy blonde hair and a tattoo on his neck. Dane.
"It's Dane," I whisper.
He's got his back to us, searching for something. We sneak up behind him, but he hears us. He whips out a gun and turns to face us. Instinctively, Preston stands in front of me, shielding me; not worrying about his safety.
"What are you doing here?" Preston asks.
"Looking for something," He simply responds. He hasn't noticed me.
I sneak away from their conversation and go into the kitchen. I grab the sharpest knife, as well as a frying pan, and go into the other entrance to the living room. Dane's got Preston in a headlock, and the gun is on the floor.
"Well, what do we have here?" He asks, dropping Preston and heading towards me. Preston gasps for air,
and I feel like I need to help him.
"Obviously your best friend," I joke.
"Yeah, well my best friend's coming with me then." He evilly smirks.
"How about no?" I state.
"How about yes." He says, trying to grab my wrists. I swing the frying pan but miss. He lunges towards me, but I drop the frying pan and dodge. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Preston debating on weather or not to shoot him. He drops the gun and rushes towards us, trying to punch Dane. Dane just kicks him in the face, and he collapses.
Dane lunges towards me again, and I pull out the knife. He backs up a bit.
"You wouldn't..." He quietly trails off.
"Oh, I would." I say, but am caught off guard. He tackles me to the ground, and Preston pries him off of me.
Dane breaks loose and tackles me to the ground. I stop the blows to my face, but a few still get to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Preston grab the frying pan.
I shove Dane off of me and grab the knife.
"You really want to play that game?" He asks me.
"Yeah, I'm as good as you." I respond.
"How?" He questions.
"Let's just say my dad taught me a few things," I respond.
Dane runs straight at me, and I dodge the stab. I dodge a few more times, when I see Preston behind Dane. Dane knows that Preston is behind him. I only have one chance.
If I miss, Preston is dead.
I breathe in and aim. I throw the knife straight at Dane's right arm, the one holding the knife. He wasn't expecting it, and his knife falls to the ground, while mine is stuck just below his elbow. He pulls it out, but is too late. Preston hits him in the back of the head, and Dane collapses, unconscious.
I breathe deeply in and out for a few minutes and Preston and I look at each other. I smile and run towards him. He wraps his arms around me and I laugh into his chest.
"We did it," Preston sighs into my hair.
"Yes, we did." I respond, looking up at him.
"Let's go call the cops, shall we?" He asks. I nod, and Preston calls the cops.
I pick up the knife and head over towards Dane.
I grab him by the collar, and press the knife up to his neck. "If it was up to me, you would be dead now," I grit my teeth and say quietly. I couldn't kill him in front of Preston.
The cops arrive, and take Dane and his gun after questioning us.
"Preston, you're bleeding!" I yell, noticing the cut on his forehead, and the blood trailing down the corner of his lips.
"It's fine," He said, waving it off.
"You're not fine," I say, grabbing his hand. I lead him into the kitchen. "Sit down," I order. He sits on the table, and I grab the first aid kit.
I am so distracted by cleaning his cuts, that I barely heard him talk. "Your eyes are beautiful," He comments. I stop and look at him. "They're brown with green specks, and remind me of nature. Of new beginnings."
"Thanks," I respond, focusing on finishing my job. Once I finish, I apply antiseptic. I crack a joke. "Alright, the doctor is finished."
Preston smiles. "Why thank you doctor."
I stare into his eyes beautiful, warm chocolate eyes and get lost in them, when he surprisingly leans in. And I do too. His lips meet mine, and I kiss back. This time, this kiss was real, unlike the time when we were in Starbucks. Something stirs inside of me, that I've pushed down for a while.
Hope.