I stood to shower, making my way into the bathroom. Still woke up every day with the feeling of blood coating my skin and the stain of his touch on me. It had taken almost as long to wash the blood off me, out of my hair, out from under my nails. It took hours for Linda to pull out all the pieces of glass. Thick, hideous white lines that covered the soles from my toes to my heels. I curled my legs in, crossing them and trailing a finger over the scars on my feet. Too fevered, my body felt slick with sweat as I shoved the blankets off. Every time I opened my eyes, I still saw the broken mirror on the floor, the blood on the base of the lamp that I'd used to bash him over the head with. My eyes snapped open, and I shot to a sitting position in bed. 'Samara!' he yelled again, but the door closed and locked, cutting off the rage in his voice. She gasped when she tore it open, and I fell inside into a puddle of nothing but blood and bruised flesh. 'Linda!' I screamed, standing to bang on the door more frantically. My soul hurt, my heart hurt, my body hurt. I fell on the front step, finally screaming for Linda to open her door. The stab of each blade in the cuts on my feet echoed with the frigid night air stabbing at my lungs as I gasped for breath. My feet thudded against the pavement, sprinting for the neighbor's house. On the other, it stayed plastered to my scalp in a bloody mess. On one side of my head, the hair billowed in the wind. Fresh, cold air blew the door open further, blasting me in the face. 'Samara! You stupid cunt!' he roared at the top of his lungs, and I whimpered again, finally dragging my nightgown up to wrap it around the knob and pull it open. Wouldn’t open.Ī groan and thud sounded at the top of the stairs where I'd left the bedroom door wide open in my effort to make a hasty escape. Blood coated my fingers, and I whimpered when I couldn't get a grip on the lock. Slipping on the hardwood, I skidded into the door with a painful thump that made my already tender stomach concave from the force of the doorknob. My bare feet left a trail of blood with each step on the stairs.

Heat Stroked by Sylvie Haas