//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2 
// Story: What’s your past like? 
// by ZippStorm23 
//------------------------------//

“I gave you everything! And you… you think you can take Pipp from me don’t you?! She should be the one getting all the fame, not you, you spoilt bitch! If i ever see you say something against her will, i’ll make sure you have the same fate as your father.”


With one quick motion, she shoved the blade into Zipp’s midsection and she lurched forward, grabbing the knife and holding it there. Letting go of the knife she let the 10-year-old collapse to the floor, blood pooling all around her on the floor. As she fell to her knees, she grasped the knife tightly, not wanting it to move. Gasping in between shallow breaths, she felt blood fill her mouth and escape from her open lips. The blood in her mouth made it even harder for her to breathe. 

“Make sure you clean every corner, or you know what happens!”

Although the door slam echoed throughout the room, the sound came blurred to her ears. Knowing the wrath of her she might face, she blinked the tears out of her eyes and gripped the blade tighter, letting out a cry of pain as her trembling hands caused the blade to move a millimetre. Gritting her teeth, she yanked the knife out and fell on her back. 

Her first mistake. 

Blood flowed freely from her petite midsection as she breathed in heavy, big, slow gasps. Attempting to stem the blood flow with her hands, she placed them over her blood soaked shirt and opened her mouth in an O-shape as pain ripped her apart. Continuing to breathe through laboured breaths, she turned her head to the right and her eyes fell on the purple bottle she hid in the corner. Trying to keep herself conscious, she focussed on the bottle, which was getting harder by the minute. Thank heavens that the bleeding had slowed. Now how to reach the bottle? It seemed so far. Lifting her right hand from her stomach, covered in dark red blood, she tried to drag herself towards the bottle, every inch she moved lighting her on fire. Less than halfway there, her vision started to deteriorate, the lights on the ceiling turning to bright balls of lights and the bottle becoming nothing but a purple spot among all the white paint. She desperately wanted to close her eyes and just lay there for a moment, but she continued to inch towards the bottle, leaving behind a trail of blood which she would have to clean up later. Finally within an arm’s length of the bottle, she grabbed it with her trembling hand. Using her teeth to unstopper the bottle she lifted her left hand off her stomach and poured a couple drops onto her stomach. It burned for a couple seconds, then she felt her insides stitch together as she bit her lip to keep her screams of pain silent. After a while, she felt her stomach with her hand and breathed a sigh of relief upon feeling a flat surface. Using her hands to sit up on the floor, she returned the stopper to the bottle and leaned against the wall behind her. Her shirt still dripping with blood, she lifted it and saw a red line across her stomach. Knowing what could happen if she didn’t hurry up, she stood up with difficulty.


Her second mistake.


The second she stood up, she collapsed on the floor again. Tears burst from her eyes as she clenched her fist on pain, her fingernails digging into her palm. Using her hands, she dragged herself towards the cleaning equipment.