Page 40 of Fighting My Demons

She smiles sadly but rushes off.

“I won’t go. You can’t sell me off!” I scream at him.

He starts dragging me toward my bedroom, his keys rustling in his pocket, and I know he is about to lock me in. The bars on my windows prevent me from getting out, and he has everything removed, only leaving a dresser and my bed. Nothing that I can harm myself with. Isobella is screaming behind me, wanting to know what is going on, but my father ignores her, hauling me down the hallway toward my room before tossing me in.

I hit the carpet, and he rips the bag off my back and tosses it at my sister, who catches it.

“You know what this is about. We spoke yesterday,” my father snaps at Isobella.

Her face looks horrified behind him as she stares at me.

I plead with my eyes for her to do something, but she drops her gaze and looks away.

She knew! She knew he was selling me.

Hurt smashes into me as I watch my mother come in with a needle between her fingers. I am hoping she will save me, but as she gets closer, I realize that hope’s flown out the window.

I scoot backward on my bum, but my father grabs my ankles pulling me back before pinning me.

“Isobella, help!” I scream at her as she looks on with tears in her eyes.

She just watches as my mother jams the needle through my pants and into my thigh, slamming the plunger down. It takes a few minutes of me struggling before my efforts become futile and weaker. I stare at the ceiling in a daze, and my father picks me up, placing me on the bed and tucking my limp body in before kissing my head.

“It will be alright, sweetheart. This will be good for you. It's for the best,” he says before walking out and closing the door.

I hear it lock into place as my body becomes paralyzed by the drugs.

* * *

“Bella? Bella, wake up!”

I hear a familiar voice and feel hands shaking my arms, pulling me from the dream, my surroundings bleeding away.

“Isobella…” Her name falls from my lips as I grieve for my sister. My twin and my other half.

“Bella, wake up!” I hear before my body is being lifted.

“Is she alright?” I hear another voice.

“Yes, I think so. She has a nasty gash on her head.”

I hear the voices getting clearer, as pain radiates through me.

“Give her your blood,” I hear the voice again as my mind tries to make sense of the words.

“Blood, so much blood?” I mutter and shiver, the remnants of my dream being chased away. I feel myself being placed on something soft.

“Get in her head while she is bleeding and still out of it,” I hear another voice.

“Let me heal her first.”

Fingers on my chin force my mouth open before something warm coats my tongue. I cringe at the metallic taste before feeling a hot tongue run across the hairline on my head before jerking upright to find I am in a room that’s not mine. Something runs down my chin, and I wipe at it. It’s blood.

I blink, my vision clearing completely as the figures standing over me turn real and familiar, but there is nothing familiar about the man's eyes in front of me. Latham.

Latham’s eyes are a deep reddish black. A sight that’s haunted me for years as I stare at him.

“Demon!” I spit at him, yet he seems to be in some sort of trance.