Give Me Love

Jessie Richards doesn't have the best life at home, a dead mom and an abusive father. She decides to run away. But one car crash could change her whole life.

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21. Help

Jessie's P.O.V.

"Why are you here?" I screamed at my uncle.

"Well you see its quite simple, darling." He began with an eerie smile. "You put my brother in jail. I was planning to get revenge, but then your dad called me and he said, and I quote, 'Make her regret what she did. Torture her. Make her death slow and painful.' And I intend to do that."

"Marcel was right." I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?" he said getting right next to my face.

"That is none of you business." I spat through gritted teeth.

He slapped my face so hard that I lost my balance. I didn't fall though.

"Now what did you say." he said quietly.

I didn't answer from the pure shock I was in.

He pushed me to the hard and kicked me in the thigh. It hurt worse than you think it did. Its like he put all his will power into that kick.

He kneeled down next to my face. "So are you going to tell me now sweetie? I can do a lot worse." he said in a sickly sweet voice.

"I-I said that M-Marcel was r-r-right." I stuttered.

"Oh so you have a boyfriend?" he smirked.

"Only a friend." I said.

He scowled and yanked me up by my hair. he started to fast walk up the stairs, his fist still in curled into my hair. I was limping closely behind him, going as fast as I could without hurting my leg or hair, which seemed an impossible task.

When got to the top of the stairs, he pushed me forward by my hair.

"Find your phone." he growled, untangling his fingers from my hair.

"W-well you see a-about th-that..." I started nervously.

"Don't tell me you don't have a phone." he sighed.

"I d-don't dad t-took it away.." I stuttered.

"I guess I expected that." he said.

I was shocked by his sudden change of heart. But he quickly went back to his original personality.

"You better know his number." he scowled.

"I do." I said suspiciously.

"Call him." he said, tossing me his phone. I barely caught it.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked.

"Don't question me!" he shouted, pushing me backwards. I stumbled a bit but I didn't fall.

"But to answer your question...." he began. "Tell him that you never want to see him again. That you don't even want him to acknowledge your existence." He said smiling.

"No!" I shouted immediately. No way was I going to let my last words to Marcel be something like that. Nope. Never. No way.

He looked at me with hateful eyes and pushed me to the ground. I didn't dare get up though. He kicked me in the shoulder. I didn't scream though. I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. Instead I grimaced from the pain.

"Never say no to me." he said.

I nodded.

He yanked me up by my hair. It felt like all my hair came out when he did that.

"So are you gonna call him know, honey?" he whispered in my ear.

"Why? What difference would it make!?" I spat at him.

He pushed me down. He got on top of me so that he was straddling me.

"I've got two reasons." He said.

"Number one:" he began. Then he slapped me.

"Is that I wouldn't want anyone to save you." he said.

'Save me?' I thought. 'Why would anyone want to save me?'

"Number two:" he started again, slapping me again.

"Is that...... ha. Actually I don't have a number two. I just like slapping you."  he said, slapping me...... again.

He yanked me up by my injured arm. I bit my lip so hard that it drew blood.

"Call him." he said fiercely.

"Ok.. ok." I said, opening the phone that had surprisingly stayed clenched in my fist.

"Oh and you seem like a stubborn one so just in case...." he trailed off.

I eyed him suspiciously. My eyes widened as he drew a long knife from a holster he had on his side.

"Sit in that chair." he said, pointing to a wooden chair that you could see from upstairs.

Trying not to seem to vulnerable, I trudged down the stairs confidently, and sat into the chair.

He came behind and pressed the cool blade to the skin on my neck. I gasped and tears came to my eyes at the contact. Was this how I was going to die? Right after telling my only friend such harmful words?

"Call him." he whispered.

I dialed his number and put it on speaker.

"Hello?" he answered in  a sleepy voice.
"M-Marcel?" I whimpered.

"Jessie! Whats up?" he said.

"I-I don't th-think that you sh-should come over tonigh-ght." I sobbed.

Before he had the chance to protest, I beat him to it.

"Or ever." I said.

"Wh-what?" he answered' obviously confused.

"I don't think we can be friends Marcel." I said in a tight voice.

"Wh-why not? Is it something I said? Do you not remember the good times we had?" he said.

"Just stop coming over and don't acknowledge my existence. Goodbye Marcel." I finished.

"Now that that's done..." he began.

"Follow me." he stated.

I ran to catch up with him. He led me into my dads room.

"Sit down in that chair." he instructed, pointing to a wooden chair in the room.

When did he get that?

I decided that if I was going to die, I was going to do it in style.

As he was turned around, locking the door, I silently walked up behind him. I screamed loudly in his ear.

He turned around quickly.

I felt a sharp sting in my arm. I fell down and covered the spot on my arm with my hand.

I looked at my uncle. His eyes widened at what he had done, but he quickly recovered.

"See! Thats what happens when you dont listen to me! Now get in the chair!" he yelled.

I quietly got into the chair, still holding my arm.

"Now-" he was cut off by the sound of the front door opening.

He darted silently to me and covered my mouth with his hand.

Suddenly we heard lots of pairs of feet burst through the door.

"What is it?" someone asked. It sounded like Liam from One Direction.

"Vas happenin'?" someone said. OK, One Direction was definately in my house.

"OH IM READY TO KICK SOME DONKEY BUTT RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW!"

That was definately Louis.

"What?" someone said

I heard some mumbling and then I heard : "SSSSHHHHH. Listen for any noise you can hear."

My uncles grip loosened from arounf my mouth.

Big Mistake.

I ripped his hand away. "HELP!" I screamed.

Then my uncle swung his fist around and punched me in the face. I felt warm liquid gush from my nose.

He grabbed a shirt that was on the floor, ripped it, and binded my hands together behind the chair.

He held the knife to my throat.

"Say help again." he whispered. I knew this wasnt a threat, that he was really telling me to do this.

"Help." I whimpered.

Then four boys burst into the room.

 

 

 

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