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

But she wouldn’t let Johnny know about her intentions. She had to portray herself as weak and incapable of such deviousness, which—in her state of agony and fear—wasn’t hard to do.
“It’s about time we get going,” Johnny said suddenly, snapping her from her thoughts. “We can’t wait here forever.”
In the haze of her cloudy mind, she numbly pulled on the restraints at her wrists and winced at the searing pain that burned her raw flesh. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, fighting hard against the images that were forever etched into the darkness. She couldn’t let the memories haunt her now; she couldn’t lose focus on her plan.
Suddenly Johnny’s fingers were brushing the skin of her legs as he pulled up her panties, and she stifled a scream, remembering the pain, remembering the assault. She chewed on the inside of her mouth and shook her head, trying to stay strong; but her fear got the best of her and she whispered a raspy, “No.”
He hesitated for a moment before saying, “It’s okay, Skylar. I’m only helping you. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
She turned her face away, on the verge of tears. And even though the tears could play a decent part in her plan, she wouldn’t let Johnny see any more. She didn’t want to give him that kind of power over her.
When he reached the top of her thighs, he hesitated, and Skye’s heart mercilessly hammered inside her chest. “D-don’t do anything,” she croaked, burdened with a current of fresh fear. “Y-You said you wouldn’t h-hurt m-me.” She froze, feeling the tips of his fingers touch the sensitive part of her skin, and whimpered. “Please—”
He sighed, heavily, and pulled the panties up all the way, his touch leaving licks of heat in its wake. And to Skye’s surprise, he began untying the ropes at her ankles.
She sucked in a breath when she turned to look at him, remembering the way he looked at her during the assault. But when she really looked at him, from his now clean, clothed body, to the look of undeniable grief and frustration on his face, she felt herself calm a little. At least he was feeling something

–other than sick, twisted satisfaction—from what he had done to her. Or so she hoped.
When the bonds were tossed away, he carefully pulled her jeans back on her, gently buckling the belt when he’d finished. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, so quiet Skye barely heard it. “It shouldn’t have gone that way.” She averted her gaze when he looked up, and trembled when she felt him straddle her waist. “I don’t like

hurting you. I just lost myself when you disrespected me like that.” He caught her face in his hand, forcing her to look at him. “I really am sorry, Princess.”
She blinked her heavily lidded eyes. “Please let go of me,” she begged, as softly as a whisper in the wind. “You’re hurting me.” It wasn’t a lie; the weight of him on top of her, and even the gentle grip on her face was sending spasms of pain throughout her body.
He looked confused for a moment, before he shook his head and let go of her face, working on the buttons of her blouse instead. “You’re not going to fight me anymore, are you? ‘Cause as much as I hate hurting you, there will always be consequences for your rebellion.”
She shook her head, numbly. “No, of course not.” Her voice was strong and steady, unwavering. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
He smiled. “Good.” His fingers stopped working on her blouse about halfway and instead knotted in her hair, pulling her face closer to his.
Her heart skipped a beat when his lips met hers, and she had to fight back the urge to choke on his bitter taste in her mouth. When he was finished, he brushed his lips against her ear and said, “You’re so beautiful, Skye. You really make it hard to resist you.”
A stray tear rolled down her cheek, and for the first time since she’d left him, she thought about Jules. She thought about the way he’d whisper sweet little nothings in her ears, and about the way he’d looked at her, as if she was the most beautiful thing in the world. A bitter sob trembled from her lips as she thought about how, if they ever saw each other again, he’d never be able to look at her the same. She was different now; she was nothing like the beautiful, innocent girl he must have taken her as. And she hated Johnny for taking all of that away from her—especially Jules.
Back in reality, Skye slowly came to the realization that Johnny had begun removing the ropes from her wrists, and grimaced against the pain. Her hand fell limp when it was free, arm tingling from the lack of circulation.
He worked to remove the other one, and soon both of her wrists were free and resting limp at her sides. A small gasp came out of his mouth when he pulled both of her arms in his hands, inspecting them. “Stay still,” he said quickly, and took something out of his pocket. “This is going to sting a little.”
She expected him to tie her hands together again, but what he did was nothing of that sort. Instead, he poured a liquid over the wounds that seared the exposed flesh, causing her to scream out in agony. “I told you it would sting a little,” he snickered.
She sobbed, trembling in pain. “T-That w-wasn’t a l-little.” She jerked away from his grip, tears rolling down her cheeks and blurring her vision. “Stop—please!”
“I’m sorry, Princess,” he said, with a hint of sincerity, “but these are going to get infected if I don’t help you.”
“What do you care?” she blurted, reeling from the sting, unaware of how she was reacting. “You like

to see me in pain.”
He gripped her arms tighter, poured more of the liquid over the torn skin. “I told you already, sweetheart, that I don’t

like hurting you. But it had to be done.” He moved off the bed, pulling her with him so that she lay on her side, barely an inch away from the edge of the bed. “Now stop squirming, I have to fix these.”
Biting back the urge to cry out again, she asked him, “Why are you doing this? I thought we had to leave.”
“We do.” He pulled some gauze out of the drawer next to the bed and wrapped it around each of her wrists. “But I wouldn’t want you to suffer the kind of pain these wounds would bring if they became infected. And I know I can’t heal your other wounds, so this is the least I can do.” When he’d finished, he inspected his work, brows furrowed in concentration. “Looks good.” Gently, he pulled her weak body into his arms and began carrying her off the bed, saying, “Come on, sweetheart, time to go.”
She shook her head, wincing in pain as his hands found few of the bruises that covered her unclean skin. “Please put me down,” she pleaded, weakly. “I-I can w-walk.” Her breath caught as fear of the unknown plagued her, and she tried to force herself to stay calm. “I won’t do anything, Johnny, I promise. Just let me walk—please

.”
“Not in your condition.”
“Please

.” She became desperate, and pulled his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Please

, Johnny. You’ve already had everything your way. Please let me do this one thing

my way.”
He stopped in his tracks. “You promise you won’t try anything? Because if you do, I guarantee you won’t like the consequences.”
“I promise.” She cleared her dry, hoarse throat. “I won’t try anything.”
Johnny hesitated before setting her down, gently. And as soon as she found her balance, he gripped a hold on the top of her arm, keeping her close. “You’ll need my help to keep steady. We’ve got to hurry.”
“Why?” she asked. “I thought we had all the time in the world. I thought no one would ever find us.”
He ignored her daunting statements. “We have an appointment.”
As he led her out of the quaint little cabin, something began to twitch in Skye’s memory, like an annoying little insect as it buzzed beside your ear. Something was familiar about the small, forest surrounded cabin. Something she couldn’t quite place in the imbalance of her exhaustion.
When they stepped into the darkness of the early morning, her stomach clenched up in anxiety and her head ached with the pressure of her thoughts, so disoriented, so desperate for sleep. “Where are we going?” She leaned into Johnny for support as they walked down a few short steps off the porch, trying to be as convincing as she could that there was no way for her to escape.
“It doesn’t matter.” The anger in his voice startled her, and she almost lost her footing. “Please try to keep up, Skylar, or I’ll have to carry you the rest of the way.”
She swallowed hard on the lump in her throat. Her legs were shaking and it was becoming hard to walk from the pain that still burdened her body, but she tried her best to keep up with Johnny, afraid that if he picked her up, she’d lose her chance at freedom.
When they reached the driver’s side of his car, she took a moment to gather herself together as he jammed the key in its slot and unlocked the door. It’s now or never

, she thought, taking a long, unsteady breath. Come on. Go!

And with all of her remaining strength, she stomped her foot on Johnny’s, screamed at the top of her lungs in his ear, and when his grip on her arm loosened, she turned around and kneed him where the sun didn’t shine as hard as she possibly could.
Her heartbeat was pulsing in her ears when she was done, and her breath was coming out in quick, fleeting gasps. Johnny grunted, sneering and reaching out to grab her, but she quickly avoided his grasp, jumping back. Adrenaline surged through her body as she clenched her hand in a fist and slammed in in Johnny’s face, chest heaving from the lack of proper oxygen.
She frantically searched for the keys, prepared to get away in the car, but couldn’t find them and instead decided it was best to run. In the state of panic she was in, she figured there’d be no way he could run after her in his condition. She figured she had time.
Without looking back, she plunged into the forest, running frantically on the uneven ground, desperately fighting to keep her footing. Her lungs burned and chest ached as her breath caught in her throat, but she pushed forward anyways, too determined to escape to let it affect her.
Vaguely, crowded out by the ringing in her ears, she could hear Johnny’s raspy voice calling out to her, getting closer instead of further, and