He Said Mine So I Took Him Instead

CHAPTER 7

He moved toward me slowly, like a predator that already knew I had nowhere to go, his steps so quiet it was almost creepy how I couldn't even hear them properly.

His green eyes, the same ones I hated seeing in the mirror, burned with anger, the gold flecks inside them looking darker, sharper, like even they were pissed off.

I shrank back instinctively, pressing myself against the wall behind me, the cold surface seeping through my clothes and sending a shiver straight down my spine while my whole body trembled.

"Please," I whispered, my voice breaking as tears slid down my face, warm against my skin before turning cold.

"You're useless," he snapped, taking another slow step closer like he had all the time in the world.

Deep down, I knew he believed every word, but I still shook my head like that could somehow block it out, like if I denied it hard enough, it wouldn't stick this time.

It wasn't even new anymore, hearing him say things like that, being cornered and torn apart with words like it was just another normal day for him.

"You're stupid," he muttered, his voice low and sharp, like he meant it to cut.

The hate coming off him felt almost physical, like waves slamming into me over and over, each word hitting harder until I was pressed flat against the wall, barely holding myself together.

My chest tightened, my breathing turning uneven, like my lungs forgot how to work while I just stood there choking on air that wouldn't come.

"You're pathetic," he added, his lip curling like he actually believed I was less than nothing.

Every word out of his mouth hit me like a physical blow, like I could almost feel it landing even without his hands on me.

A part of me believed him too, which honestly made it worse, because those same words had been shoved into my head for so long they felt permanent, like they belonged there.

It hurt in a way I couldn't even explain, knowing my own dad looked at me like I was nothing, like hurting me was something he actually enjoyed, physically or otherwise.

I wanted to scream at him to stop, to tell him he was wrong, but I already knew better, because talking back never fixed anything, it just made everything escalate faster.

And yeah, experience had taught me that whatever came next was always worse than whatever came before.

"You were a mistake," he growled, his voice low and rough, almost inhuman, and it sent a chill straight through me because I had never heard him sound like that before.

I froze completely, my back pressed flat against the wall like I couldn't even move if I wanted to.

I didn't even try to fight when his hand came up and closed around my throat, tightening slowly like he wanted me to feel every second of it.

Air stopped coming in properly, my chest tightening as breathing turned into something I had to fight for instead of something automatic.

There was something twisted in his eyes, a kind of satisfaction that made my stomach drop, like he actually enjoyed watching me struggle right in front of him.

My hands shot up on instinct, grabbing at his wrist, nails digging into his skin as I tried to pull him off me, even though I already knew it probably wouldn't work.

My body jerked and kicked without control, legs hitting nothing as panic took over, while my eyes begged him silently to just stop, to let me go, to end it.

"Esme..." my name echoed faintly, like it was coming from somewhere far away, barely breaking through the darkness closing in around me.

I jolted awake, dragging in a sharp breath like my lungs had just remembered how to work, my throat raw and burning while tears blurred everything into a mess.

My heart was going crazy in my chest, pounding so hard it honestly felt like it was trying to escape, while my hands stayed cold and clammy as I forced myself to breathe slower, trying not to completely spiral.

For a second, I told myself it was just a nightmare, but that didn't even sound convincing in my own head because every part of it felt way too real.

It wasn't just a dream, it was memories crashing into each other, replaying like my brain decided sleep was the perfect time to ruin me.

I could still feel it, his hand around my throat, his voice stuck in my head like it refused to leave.

Thinking I could ever fully get away from him was honestly kind of stupid, because even if he wasn't physically there anymore, he still found ways to show up where it mattered.

Apparently, my dreams were his new favorite place. Lucky me.

Those memories weren't going anywhere either, they were stuck in my head for good, and somehow I had to figure out how to live with that.

When I finally forced myself to focus, I realized I was lying on a bed that definitely wasn't mine.

The mattress felt too firm, unfamiliar in a way that made me tense automatically, like my body didn't trust it.

Pillows were stacked behind me, soft and way too comfortable compared to what I was used to, letting my upper body sink into them without effort.

A white blanket rested around my waist, slightly tangled like I had been moving in my sleep.

I looked down and realized I wasn't wearing my own clothes anymore, just an oversized t-shirt I didn't recognize.

It was dark blue and way too big on me, the fabric soft against my skin in a way that felt weirdly gentle.

And then there was the smell.

Familiar.

Way too familiar.