A hard smack across the face sent me stumbling backwards against the wall. I shrieked out in shock and pain as my fingertips instinctively went to my cheek and grazed over the sensitive skin. He stared down at his hand in surprise as well, as if he were shocked by his own rage.
A few slow tears escaped the corners of my eyes and fell down the stinging skin of my cheeks.
“You’re an animal.” I spat out before slamming the door shut in his face and leaving him behind forever.
I had no idea where I’d been heading, but anywhere was better than there. I wound up curling up into a ball and dozing off on a bench in a nearby park. He never found me, and I’m certain he never even bothered searching…
I woke up to see a man standing over me, a worried look on his face.
“Blake…?” I mumbled out sleepily, my eyes glossed over with exhaustion.
“Yes Vee, it’s Blake. You were crying in your sleep again.” He said with a sigh, his eyes clouded with sadness. He always worried too much over my nightmares, and I always refused to tell him what they were about. It was just something that happened in the past… something done and over with. It wasn’t a part of my life now.
My name is Vanessa Amber Jones, but everyone just calls me Vee. I live in a house in Stratford, Ontario with my best friend Blake. The house is a little small, but we make out okay. I work at Starbucks, but mainly I’m an author. Unfortunately, my salary isn’t exactly sky high so I live off ramen noodles for the most part.
Blake works as a schoolteacher in the local elementary school, he teaches 1st graders and special education kids. He isn’t currently with anybody, although he keeps mentioning there’s a girl he’s really interested in.
I don’t like to poke around in his business, but if he ever settled down I’d probably have to squeeze into a cheaper apartment and live alone. I don’t tell him this though, if he wanted to be with this woman he loves, who am I to stop him?
“Sorry, guess it was just a bad dream…” I muttered under my breath, hoping he would drop it and not press for me to spill more information.
“Damn Vee, that’s the third one this week. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? Maybe if you just let it out, it won’t bother you as much. Come on Vee, don’t be so down, it’s Christmas.” Blake said to me, there was a look of sadness in his eyes as he stared down at me. I was nestled between the folds of the sheets, cowering back from the lingering thoughts of my nightmare.
“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Do you want some breakfast?” I asked gingerly, a fake smile twisted on my pale lips. He sighed and looked down, dismissing the topic though I could tell he was still worried about me.
“I already made something, thanks.” He turned away to return back to his bedroom, coffee mug in hand, when suddenly a wave of recollection came over his features. “I almost forgot to mention, there’s a letter for you that came in the mail. I left it on the counter, it’s probably just a Christmas card.” He said, grinning as he brought the mug to his lips. He then exited the room in the same manner he had come, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
After pondering it for a few moments, I came to the conclusion that I would eventually have to slump out of my bed sheets and open that damn letter. The kitchen tile was cold against my feet as I walked, my toes curling up in my socks as I came to a stop at the counter.
Scrawled in tight, messy letters, all bent to one side, read:
“For Vannessa Jones”
I sighed and questioned if my mother had finally tipped off the iceberg and was really losing her head. She must’ve forgotten to address it and write her name on the return address. I wondered how she’d managed to get it here if there was no address written on it while my fingers fumbled with the seal.
I finally broke it open, and my eyes cast down on it in a moment of astonishment and horror.
The name at the bottom of the letter read…
“Justin”
My fingertips began to shake profusely, the whole letter becoming wrinkled as my hands trembled. Before I knew it, I was trembling all over, my body sliding down to the floor, that horrible piece of paper sitting in my lap like a death sentence; far more petrifying than a serial killer's diary.
This piece is not yet finished! I just wanted some people's opinions about what they though of it thus far.
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