Less than Perfect by S. J. Evans (love letters to the dead txt) 📕

to have stopped breathing.
He rushed down to her level, smelling the fresh blood in disgust, and brushed her tangled black hair behind her ears. “It’s going to be okay, Princess, I’m here now.” He said softly, his hot breath bathing her. He reached for another towel atop the counter and wiped her wounds, sighing. Tossing the towel, he stood up and shuffled around for some bandages.
He found gauze and wrapped it around Skye, sealing the wounds. Smiling, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the bathroom, setting her down on the comfort of her own bedding. He tucked her fragile and sleeping body under the blankets, chuckling as he thought of how he had “saved” her from Jules. He wasn’t going to allow anyone else to be near her.
She was very cold and pale, her breathing very faint. Johnny walked into the bathroom to clean up after himself, tossing all of the towels into the hamper, throwing away the evidence of her bandages, and cleaning the counter and his hands. “Dirty blood, dirty boy, no good suffering,” He murmured, his voice barely audible.
He put the towels in the laundry and ran the wash, cleaning off the filth of blood. Brushing his hands against the other, he walked out of the laundry room and back into Skye’s bedroom, checking on her. She lay there, cuddled in the blankets as he watched her from the doorway, smiling at the girl before him. Shutting the door, he leaned his head against it and sighed, thinking about what he was to do next. He knew that she knew the truth, maybe not much of it, but she knew it—and that scared him. He couldn’t want her ever finding her father, she was too much his now.
He turned around and looked at her again, slowly stepping into pace and walking towards the bed. He bent down to her, caressing her cold cheek, and smiled vaguely at her. “Rest now, beautiful, we’ll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow.” He said in a hushed tone, leaning his head down to kiss her forehead. His hands cupped her face and massaged it, his large fingers gently—quite unnatural for him—brushing against her pale skin.
Skye awoke in bed, her head pounding an unnatural and painful beat inside it, and blinked her eyes drowsily. She hadn’t remembered being placed in bed, and she hadn’t even believed that she would be alive to wake up again. Rubbing her eyes with her clammy hand, she breathed an exaggerated breath and let it out. What happened last night?

She wondered, her mind swirling with the thoughts of the worst. Johnny couldn’t have let her live without some sort of terrible plan in mind for a later time.
Jules

, she remembered, I’m supposed to meet him and Victor at the beach with Rachel. How could this possibly be a choice now, though, I’m incredibly weak.

She could feel the strength that she had was very low and that she wouldn’t be able to go anywhere with anyone without stirring up plenty of questions.
Suddenly, she realized the fact of reality—a disturbing and unnerving fact—that she wasn’t alone. She could feel supporting arms around her, the hands clutched together on her stomach, pulling her against a muscular body. She sucked in a breath as she tried to pry the fingers apart, trying for escape. Her heart rapidly picked up in its pace, tapping obnoxiously against her chest and in the pulse of her neck. Come on Skye, you can do this

, she told herself, fighting the fear and defeat that her body was trying to commit to.
Johnny shifted a little, breathing against the back of her neck, and loosened his grip, his arm draping over her side. He murmured something drowsily, not in the same state of mind she was in. She wiggled from his arms, her vision clouded with sleep and her heart tapping ferociously. She bit back the urge to make a sound and crawled out of the bed, her body aching as she did so.
She wanted to make her way into the bathroom without Johnny seeing her, but, as soon as she thought of the hopeful desire, Johnny stirred. He blinked his eyes open and a smirk instantly crept up his face, frightening Skye.
“Good morning, Princess. Sleep well?” He asked her groggily, his deep voice low and subtle. He looked at her with something close to affection which chilled a frosty gloom inside her.
She couldn’t respond with words, her tongue was tied and her breathing stumped with fear as oppressing as a brick. Instead of replying with words, she nodded her head slowly, feeling anger spark a flame beside the brick of fear.
“Good,” he drawled, sitting up and letting the comforter fall down. It was only then when Skye noticed that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and his large muscles were bulging. “Where are you headed?” He asked curiously, grinning at her even though he knew she hated that sickening grin.
She pointed to the bathroom and fought herself for words. “Bathroom. I need to get cleaned up,” she told him, her voice crackling with the welded up fear escaping past her lips. She gulped down a lump in her throat and averted her gaze, the image of Johnny freaking her out enough.
“Be careful, you know I don’t like it when you hurt yourself.”
Even though she wasn’t sure of it, she almost thought that she heard him chuckle. A strong coating of distaste bathed her mouth and she begged with herself not to gag. This is all so wrong

, she thought, eventually I will find a way not to let him control me. He’s only a twisted and confused psychopath anyways.

She could only imagine that she was right but there was always something that told her there was way more behind Johnny’s true story.
He certainly caused her to doubt her own judgment sometimes, and that squeezed every breath out of her, fear choking at the strings of her vocal chords. Leah needed to know the truth and Skye knew that she did, but every single measurement of doubt and fear she compressed told her to take the narrow and dark road to protect Leah. After all, Leah was the only one that she knew would stay with her as long as possible.
Skye slipped into the bathroom and closed the door, blocking Johnny from her world for the time she could. She clutched for the support of the counter as she felt her stomach tighten and inflame with pain. She slowly made her way over to the shower and undressed, wobbling into it. She let the warm water wash away her anger and fear, gently massaging the nerves in her body. As the water cascaded down her newly bruised and wounded body, she bit her lip and waited for the pain to ease a little.
Finishing up the shower, she turned off the water and slid down to the floor, little tear crystals sliding down her cheeks. She thought of how Johnny knew of her father and how long he probably has known. He kept it from her, kept it from the man’s own daughter—the daughter who longed to know her true father. She would have to find her father, no matter how hard it could be.
She knew that she had to cancel on Jules and the others, and that she was going to be stuck in the house with Johnny for an entire day; after all, she was sure that he had told many she was ill. She snatched the towel off of the hook on the wall and wrapped it around her, curling into a shameless ball and letting the tears pour. She was torn between the ideas tugging on the strings of her heart, all of which were pulling in many different directions.
Freeing herself from the dark thoughts of a life so twisted she could hardly breathe, she shuffled her feet from underneath her, attempting to get up. A pain shocked her body and she winced, falling back against the tub, her already pounding head hitting the wall. She closed her eyes and took a deep and painful breath, only to let out a sob in the next moment. She had no more tears though, her well had dried up, leaving desperate sobs in replace.
Grasping the edge of the tub, she pulled herself up, fleeting the sobs and whimpering through the pain. She got out of the tub, the towel still wrapped securely around her, and walked over to the counter. Regarding herself in the mirror above the sink, she looked at the dark shadows under her eyes from a restless sleep and saw her own broken soul stare back at her. She hated it when she could see the pain; she hated feeling the sorrow she suppressed. Her heartbeat tapped lightly within her, calming the nerves she was starting to feel tense.
Thoughts of Johnny lingered in her mind, presenting a slideshow of memories so painful and guilt-ridden that she wanted to scream for help. She wished she could scream for help. Help was always something she wanted, something she needed

; but she knew that help wasn’t coming for her, for it had a hard way of making its way into her life.
She took a calming breath and blinked away any fading pictures of Johnny, clearing her mind as much as possible. Skye needed a way out of the life spinning in front of her and she needed it soon. She dried herself off, got dressed, and brushed the straggly hair that was framing her face. Finishing up, she put the dirty clothes and towels in her hamper and exited her bathroom.
Once in her room, she found a hairband and tossed her hair into a sloppy bun, the ends of her long raven hair stuck together. Keep calm

, she reminded herself, Johnny isn’t going to be a threat right now

. She didn’t fully believe the words she told herself, but she needed an assuring way to settle down.
She left her room, her thoughts drifting off into the realm of a world spent with Jules—a world she wished she could escape to at any moment of every day. Even though there was the option for her to escape with him she didn’t want to risk anything to do it; she knew Johnny too well to know that he wouldn’t accept her hanging around Jules.
Jules couldn’t be her safety net, but maybe Rachel could. Rachel, Johnny liked; Jules, not so much. Skye wanted to be in the presence of Jules but she also felt bad enough that being as alone as possible would be better.
As she descended the staircase, she took in the fresh smell of hot pancakes and sausage and couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t have thought that Johnny would really make a nice breakfast after how violently things ended the night before. In her mind, he had to be trying for something, for some sort of reward for taking care of her for once.
She ventured into the dining room first, eyes scanning for Johnny or the evidence of his cooking. On the table, two plates framed with two glasses and silverware rested across from each other, inviting company. She tilted her head to look into the kitchen from where she stood, eyeing the