FicWad

The pain pulsed through my whole body, overtaking me completely. I watched with glazed eyes as Ian grabbed the knife and put it between my folds, about to stab up into me. Waiting for the life to drip out of me, I was taken off guard when the door burst open and a group of five people burst in. Groves and Gillette grabbed Ian's shoulders and yanked him away from me.

"What's this?" Ian growled in a menacing voice. He looked like he was going to protest, but at that moment, he passed out from far too much alcohol. My eyes closed as I felt the pain washing over my body. I was just going to wash away and fade from this life. At least Ian should get what he deserved. Whispers filled the room, but I could understand none of it in my drugged, injured state.

The life dripped out of my body and I took one more shaky breath that was meant to be my last. When I refused to breathe again, a voice called out, "No! Stay with me, baby. It's not your time. Breathe. Please...don't leave me..." The voice sounded so sad and hurt. I didn't want to breathe, didn't want to live. But I didn't want to hurt another human being.

I struggled to keep breathing. Arms slipped under my body and I was cradled against someone's chest. Beats of sweat formed on my body, smudging all the heavy makeup Ian had put on me earlier. A hand wiped the makeup away and whispered in my ear, "You'll be okay now. Just hang on. You never have to go back to Ian again. I have a letter written up and now I have witnesses that show Ian was abusing you for no reason. Just hang on, my darling, please..."

I tried to keep consciousness, but the voice faded away and I felt myself slipping away. I wasn't sure if this was sleep or death. Was there really a difference? After all, death is just a long sleep that you never wake from. In case I was going to fall in a sleep that I would never wake from, I used the last of my energy to speak to the man holding me.

Despite the fact that I had my eyes shut and couldn't see who was holding me, I knew who it was. It was definitely Cutler. I reached up to touch his cheek, but my hand only made it halfway there before it flopped back down limply. Croaking, I parted my cracked, dry lips and made myself speak despite the fact that my body protested it, "Cutler...I love you..."

I tried to open my eyes. I wanted to see those big blue eyes looking into mine. Somehow, I managed to open the right one just a crack. The last thing I saw was a flash of the most beautiful shade of blue before I went tumbling down a tunnel of black. I slipped down deep inside it. It was like a wave crashing over me and trying to bring me down.

I didn't like things trying to bring me down. I had had far too much experience not being the dominating one. There was always someone, mainly Ian, above me. They tried to force me to do their will and broke me down when I didn't. Because of this, I fought that dark wave of blackness. I didn't want it to consume me and bring me under. No, I wanted to win the fight for once.

I fought that wave for many days. Sometimes, I managed to stick my head out of it, but mostly, I ended up gasping for breath. No matter how rapidly that wave came and no matter how hard it tried to tug me down, I fought it. And after many days of pushing it away, I broke free. My body was released and my head cleared as I returned to the world above.

Blinking, I found myself in a bedroom. Wondering what I was doing there, I peered around curiously. It certainly wasn't Ian's bedroom, I could tell that immediately. The windows across from the bed were closed and it was rather dark in the room. I could see a figure in the corner of the room trying to read something by candlelight. He tried reading it, gave up, and started ripping the papers to shreds. The shreds floated to the ground and lay there. Sobs came from the corner of the room.

I peered at the figure out of the corner of my eyes, trying to figure out who it might be. Was it Cutler? My brain was a bit foggy and I couldn't even keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds. They closed as the sobs continued to reverberate around the room. A few seconds later, footsteps sounded and I felt the bed shift from next to me. Hm...what was that?

Randomly, arms were thrown around me and I felt someone's head press into my chest. The person held me close and sobbed into my chest. Soft words met my ears, "I'm so, so sorry. I had no idea he would try and kill you. I just didn't know and now you're dead. I killed you because I was afraid that taking you from Ian would make me lose my job. It all sounds so silly now..."

Okay, so it definitely was Cutler. Only Cutler would be talking like that. I attempted to open my eyes, but just couldn't. Instead, I moved my arm around and brushed it against my side. I was wearing some thin nightgown that I hadn't remembered getting into. Cutler must've taken me to his home after Ian's party and dressed me then.

Cutler held my cold body in his arms, thinking I was dead. I had to tell him otherwise. Using the little strength I had acquired, I forced my eyes open and gasped, "C-cutler?" Cutler immediately sat up and looked down at my face. He saw my eyelids half open and gaped at me, "Jenna...you're alive! Oh my god, I thought I lost you..."

Cutler choked, his eyes blinded with the happiness of me being awake. He leaned down to hug me and then realized that may not be such a good idea since I was so weak. Thinking, he asked, "What hurts? What can I do for you? Do you need anything?" My brain was already going a bit fuzzy, but I tried to think despite the cloud hanging over me.

"My legs hurt," I murmured, remembering how Ian had cut me. "And I'm so thirsty..." It was true. I had been thirsty when Ian had tried to kill me and now, days later, I still hadn't gotten a drink. I felt so dehydrated. Cutler nodded and immediately got up from the bed, "I'll go get something to drink right away. And maybe something for the pain too."

As he disappeared through the door, I thought of everything that had taken place lately. Frowning, I remembered how I had hurt Cutler back at the party. Oh god, how could he even possibly be associating with me now? I had wanted him dead. Why didn't he want me dead? I should be dead. Yes, I should've died. Maybe I could die still.

Looking around the room, my eyes fell on a little knife on the nightstand next to me. Cutler had probably used it to cut bandages, but I could use it for other purposes. After all, I should be the one who had to pay. I had been the one to hurt Cutler. I had been the one who had lost her temper and made a lot of regrettable actions. It was my blood that should spill, not his.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself up into a sitting position. Leaning against the headboard, I stretched out my legs and lifted the skirt of the nightgown. I thought once more about what I was doing and then decided I was making the right decision. My blade cut far and deep into my flesh. Blood dribbled out of the cut and down around my thigh.

I wasn't ready to be done. No, I had hit Cutler six times. That meant I had to cut myself at least six times. Five more times I dug the blade into my flesh. Five more times, I watched the blood spill crimson against my pale skin. When I was done cutting, I stole some of the bandages on the nightstand to wrap my thighs up with. Alright, so now I had paid for what I had done to Cutler.

Deep inside, I still wasn't happy. No, I had to do more. Cutting my thighs up was not enough. There was something deep within me that didn't feel quite right. I wasn't sure why I was still alive. What was I living for? Cutler had a wife now. I had no idea how she was reacting to me staying in their home, but she probably wasn't liking it much.

And really, what good had I ever done for Cutler? Nothing I could think of. All I had done was screw up his life. I had screwed up his marriage and his relationship with Ian. It was all my fault. I still had more to pay for. Putting the knife back on the nightstand, I looked up and saw a little pistol on a shelf above my head. It was going to be hard to reach it, but I could probably just make it.

Using all my strength not to fall over, I stood up hesitantly on the bed and reached up to the shelf. I grabbed hold of it just in time. My fingers clenched around it, keeping me from falling over. The little silver pistol was just within reach now. I stretched my hand forward and managed to snag it. By this time, I had no more strength left.

I toppled back onto the bed with pistol in hand. I turned it and put it to my heart. The metal felt cold against my skin and I felt powerful for once. I finally had control over my own life. For too long it had always been Ian in charge of how long I would live for. Finally, I had control, and no way was I going to give it up. I would die by my very own hand.

Still, I hesitated. Why was I hesitating? I wasn't exactly sure why to be honest. I just couldn't quite make myself pull the trigger. Did I fear death? Perhaps. It was all unknown. Would I go to hell or would I just stay in a sleep-like state for the rest of eternity? I didn't know and the only way to find out was after you had killed yourself. Until then, I would never know.

Taking a deep breath, I held the pistol up once more and prepared to pull the trigger. I planned to pull it three times to send three bullets into my heart. That should be enough to stop it, shouldn't it? After all, I was almost already dead anyways. How I had lived through Ian's latest abuse was something I would never know. But did it even matter now? Not really.

I closed my eyes and was about to shoot the goddamn thing when the door abruptly burst open and Cutler stepped in. He was holding a glass of water and looked like he was about to say something when he suddenly looked up at me. His jaw dropped when he saw me with the gun. Cutler immediately set the water down and started approaching me cautiously.

"Put the pistol down," he said firmly, but gently. My eyes popped back open and I stared between him and the pistol nervously. Undecided, I watched Cutler approach closer. I couldn't let him take my pistol. No, it was the only sense of control I had left. I had to keep it! Without thinking, I turned it around and pointed it at Cutler, "Don't get closer or I'll shoot it!"

Looking taken off guard, Cutler stopped and eyed me calculatingly. Without getting closer, Cutler asked, "What are you doing, my dear? It would be a stupid mistake to shoot yourself. You still have life to live. Do you really wish to end it early? There could be so much more left out there for you. Don't you want a marriage? Children?"

Cutler made me hesitate. I did want those things, but the truth was, I only wanted them with Cutler. I wanted to marry him and be his wife. I wanted to make babies with him and him alone. There was simply nobody else I longed to be with in the way I wanted to be with him. Cutler had turned my life around and then he had ruined it.

My grip steadied on the pistol and I eyed him nervously. Cutler tried to take one step closer to me, holding his hands up in a surrender-like position. My grip on the pistol fumbled yet again. I glared at Cutler and murmured, "Don't come any closer or I'll kill you." Cutler eyed me a bit apprehensively, but continued to step towards me.

I watched him nervously and found I was fumbling again. Did I want to pull the trigger? Did I need to spill innocent blood here? It didn't have to be spilled. Nobody had to die. Was I being stupid? I couldn't decide. Cutler took a few steps closer until he was right in front of me. I put the pistol to his forehead. I could shoot him right here and now and be free to shoot myself...