off the floor, bracing myself on a table to pull myself up. My ribs and back hurt like hell, every breath being taken away too fast by the next. The entire left side of my head and face feel numb, but I can feel the cut, not too big, but big enough to be a bleeder. You would think I fought in the UFC for a living.
I retrieve towels from the linen closet to clean up the blood and glass. My father’s nurse is out running errands for a few hours and I want to clean up the mess before she returns.
After everything is returned to its pristine grace, I practically crawl up the stairs, taking more time than I expected. Everything from my head, down to my torso and back hurt so badly. I feel dizzy and lightheaded as I finally make it to my room. I strip off my clothes and sit under the spray of a warm shower because I can’t stand up any longer.
The water runs reddish pink for a few minutes. I wash my hair with shampoo and conditioner, even though it stings like a son of a gun, but it’s the only way to get all the blood out. I sit under the stream until it runs cold and my fingers begin to prune. I dry my hair gently, and then the rest of my battered body with the same regard.
Two more days.
Two more days, then I can escape all of this, if only for a week. What else can I possibly do? I can’t turn her in to anyone, especially after what she threatened to do to my dad. I want to believe that she would never have the guts to go through with such a thing, but she is getting braver with her anger, and showing me what she is capable of. I see that as long as I do what she wants, she will stay clear of us. Besides, we have nowhere else to go.
I close my eyes and slowly lay back on my pillows after locking the door to my room. As I’m about to fall asleep, I bolt upright, causing a massive amount of pain.
Alex.
I was supposed to meet him at eight. It was almost half past seven when Andrew showed up.
I look over at the nightstand that holds my alarm clock … 12:47 am.
“Oh, no.” I glance around for my cell. What am I going to do, call him? What would I say, “Sorry I couldn’t make it, but my mom kicked my ass.” After this evenings death match, calling him should be a low priority. I see that I need to take her threat seriously; she’s crazier than I could have ever imagined.
I sit the phone down on my nightstand and breathe in deep. Instead of calling, I move to the mirror to inspect the damage.
Breathing deeply and building up enough courage to look takes me several minutes until finally, I’m ready. My eyes travel and study every inch of my skin, and what I see sickens me. Fading yellow and green bruises litter my body from the first incident, only now, they have darker friends to accompany them. Next to my ribs, fresh dark patches are beginning to blot my skin. My face appears untouched, unless inspected closely, then my bruised ear becomes noticeable. My hair hides the lump and gash on my head, thank goodness. I face my back towards the mirror, where most of the belt lashes pelted me. Red and black whip marks dance a fiery dance across my back, complimented by a few puncture wounds from the hook digging in on impact.
A sob escapes my lips as I sink to the floor in front of my mirror, unable to look at myself any longer. I want Jace here so badly my heart aches. He’d reassure me, defend me. If he were here, she would never have the balls to do this to me; he would never let her lay a finger on me. Jace being gone is the reason she’s losing her mind. I can’t understand why he was so special to her, granted he was special, but her love for him has always been extreme.
I begin to cry even more, until eventually, my tears dry up and I crawl into bed. I make sure to double check the lock on my door before closing my eyes. No way did I trust Margret enough to leave me alone at night.
It feels as if I just closed my eyes, and i n no time at all, my alarm wakes me the next morning.
Reaching over to shut it
I retrieve towels from the linen closet to clean up the blood and glass. My father’s nurse is out running errands for a few hours and I want to clean up the mess before she returns.
After everything is returned to its pristine grace, I practically crawl up the stairs, taking more time than I expected. Everything from my head, down to my torso and back hurt so badly. I feel dizzy and lightheaded as I finally make it to my room. I strip off my clothes and sit under the spray of a warm shower because I can’t stand up any longer.
The water runs reddish pink for a few minutes. I wash my hair with shampoo and conditioner, even though it stings like a son of a gun, but it’s the only way to get all the blood out. I sit under the stream until it runs cold and my fingers begin to prune. I dry my hair gently, and then the rest of my battered body with the same regard.
Two more days.
Two more days, then I can escape all of this, if only for a week. What else can I possibly do? I can’t turn her in to anyone, especially after what she threatened to do to my dad. I want to believe that she would never have the guts to go through with such a thing, but she is getting braver with her anger, and showing me what she is capable of. I see that as long as I do what she wants, she will stay clear of us. Besides, we have nowhere else to go.
I close my eyes and slowly lay back on my pillows after locking the door to my room. As I’m about to fall asleep, I bolt upright, causing a massive amount of pain.
Alex.
I was supposed to meet him at eight. It was almost half past seven when Andrew showed up.
I look over at the nightstand that holds my alarm clock … 12:47 am.
“Oh, no.” I glance around for my cell. What am I going to do, call him? What would I say, “Sorry I couldn’t make it, but my mom kicked my ass.” After this evenings death match, calling him should be a low priority. I see that I need to take her threat seriously; she’s crazier than I could have ever imagined.
I sit the phone down on my nightstand and breathe in deep. Instead of calling, I move to the mirror to inspect the damage.
Breathing deeply and building up enough courage to look takes me several minutes until finally, I’m ready. My eyes travel and study every inch of my skin, and what I see sickens me. Fading yellow and green bruises litter my body from the first incident, only now, they have darker friends to accompany them. Next to my ribs, fresh dark patches are beginning to blot my skin. My face appears untouched, unless inspected closely, then my bruised ear becomes noticeable. My hair hides the lump and gash on my head, thank goodness. I face my back towards the mirror, where most of the belt lashes pelted me. Red and black whip marks dance a fiery dance across my back, complimented by a few puncture wounds from the hook digging in on impact.
A sob escapes my lips as I sink to the floor in front of my mirror, unable to look at myself any longer. I want Jace here so badly my heart aches. He’d reassure me, defend me. If he were here, she would never have the balls to do this to me; he would never let her lay a finger on me. Jace being gone is the reason she’s losing her mind. I can’t understand why he was so special to her, granted he was special, but her love for him has always been extreme.
I begin to cry even more, until eventually, my tears dry up and I crawl into bed. I make sure to double check the lock on my door before closing my eyes. No way did I trust Margret enough to leave me alone at night.
It feels as if I just closed my eyes, and i n no time at all, my alarm wakes me the next morning.
Reaching over to shut it
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