spine.
I don’t move. I stay put, knowing perfectly well where this is going to go. It’ll always be the same, even now that he’s moved on. “I don’t see why you’re here, that’s all.”
He’s towering over me, just a few inches from me. I can feel his breath against my face, smell the faint scent of beer on his breath. He’s not drunk, though. I can see each and every hair of his sandy beard from the day. I can even see the little freckles of silver in his eyes that used to drive me crazy when I first met him.
“You’re afraid because your pet is not here to protect you?” he whispers in my ear, his voice creepy. He’s enjoying my fear and he’s basking in the power he has over me. It’s crazy; he’s crazy. And I’m crazier to just stay put like this without a word, without even trying to leave the laundry room. Once again I’m just letting him run the show.
And this thought makes me angry. I’m not about to just keep my mouth shut and be the fragile Skye so enamored that she didn’t do or say anything to this abusive guy. I lock my eyes with his, my chin up. “It’s none of your business, Sean.”
Without even seeing it coming, he slaps me hard. I turn my head, my frizzy hair hiding me from his view, from the angry mask on his face that could look so soft and sweet otherwise. How looks can be deceiving.
My cheek is hot from the pain, stinging enough to bring tears in my eyes. None of them fall; instead I bite the inside of my lower lip. My whole body tenses like it used to. I switch off my emotions and wait. I know this physical pain; I know this feeling of shutting down. It’s always the same, even after all these months.
He grabs my shoulders, his fingers clench on them. I’ll probably have bruises there tomorrow. He shakes me and pushes me violently against the wall behind me. The force of the impact vibrates in to my lungs. My left hip is killing me, but I don’t make a sound. My eyes are glued to the concrete ground. I don’t even look at his shoes.
“You think you can defy me? You think you’re better than me? You think that you’re so smart? Let me refresh your memory.”
Suddenly he punches my arms, my stomach, kicks my legs, and when I’m on the ground—gasping from the pain, my arms crossed over my chest—he laughs. And just like that he leaves the laundry room. His steps sound brisk and he’s even whistling. Yeah, I remember perfectly well how much my body can hurt. I remember where I’ve come from and where I’m still stuck.
Slowly, gritting my teeth so as not to whimper, I stand up and tug at my sleeves still rolled over my forearms. I hide my fingers in them and look at my purple Converses. I was delusional to think I wasn’t the same fragile Skye. But one thing is different; I won’t cry.
* * *
I grit my teeth. I can’t wince even if it hurts like hell. It always hurts like hell the next morning. Fortunately, my cheek isn’t swollen, but when I touch it, it’s sensitive. I clear my throat to hide my wince when I stand up.
“You don’t look good, Skye. Are you ill or something?” Kate’s concern for me almost brings back fresh tears to my eyes, the same ones I didn’t let fall last night.
“I’m fine,” I reply in a clipped voice before I tug self-consciously on my long sleeves, afraid she could see a bruise or something. “I’m heading to the bathroom.”
Not waiting for her answer, I grab my toiletries and head for the bathrooms. It’s like I’m suffocating in our room. I can’t take her concern or her probing eyes. In the hallway, I sigh deeply. I lean against the wall and close my eyes, enjoying the quiet of the building. It’s too early for most of the students who prefer late classes instead of the early morning ones.
With my eyes closed, I hear footsteps climbing the stairs and coming my way. With a start, I open my eyes and face the person coming. I can’t stay
I don’t move. I stay put, knowing perfectly well where this is going to go. It’ll always be the same, even now that he’s moved on. “I don’t see why you’re here, that’s all.”
He’s towering over me, just a few inches from me. I can feel his breath against my face, smell the faint scent of beer on his breath. He’s not drunk, though. I can see each and every hair of his sandy beard from the day. I can even see the little freckles of silver in his eyes that used to drive me crazy when I first met him.
“You’re afraid because your pet is not here to protect you?” he whispers in my ear, his voice creepy. He’s enjoying my fear and he’s basking in the power he has over me. It’s crazy; he’s crazy. And I’m crazier to just stay put like this without a word, without even trying to leave the laundry room. Once again I’m just letting him run the show.
And this thought makes me angry. I’m not about to just keep my mouth shut and be the fragile Skye so enamored that she didn’t do or say anything to this abusive guy. I lock my eyes with his, my chin up. “It’s none of your business, Sean.”
Without even seeing it coming, he slaps me hard. I turn my head, my frizzy hair hiding me from his view, from the angry mask on his face that could look so soft and sweet otherwise. How looks can be deceiving.
My cheek is hot from the pain, stinging enough to bring tears in my eyes. None of them fall; instead I bite the inside of my lower lip. My whole body tenses like it used to. I switch off my emotions and wait. I know this physical pain; I know this feeling of shutting down. It’s always the same, even after all these months.
He grabs my shoulders, his fingers clench on them. I’ll probably have bruises there tomorrow. He shakes me and pushes me violently against the wall behind me. The force of the impact vibrates in to my lungs. My left hip is killing me, but I don’t make a sound. My eyes are glued to the concrete ground. I don’t even look at his shoes.
“You think you can defy me? You think you’re better than me? You think that you’re so smart? Let me refresh your memory.”
Suddenly he punches my arms, my stomach, kicks my legs, and when I’m on the ground—gasping from the pain, my arms crossed over my chest—he laughs. And just like that he leaves the laundry room. His steps sound brisk and he’s even whistling. Yeah, I remember perfectly well how much my body can hurt. I remember where I’ve come from and where I’m still stuck.
Slowly, gritting my teeth so as not to whimper, I stand up and tug at my sleeves still rolled over my forearms. I hide my fingers in them and look at my purple Converses. I was delusional to think I wasn’t the same fragile Skye. But one thing is different; I won’t cry.
* * *
I grit my teeth. I can’t wince even if it hurts like hell. It always hurts like hell the next morning. Fortunately, my cheek isn’t swollen, but when I touch it, it’s sensitive. I clear my throat to hide my wince when I stand up.
“You don’t look good, Skye. Are you ill or something?” Kate’s concern for me almost brings back fresh tears to my eyes, the same ones I didn’t let fall last night.
“I’m fine,” I reply in a clipped voice before I tug self-consciously on my long sleeves, afraid she could see a bruise or something. “I’m heading to the bathroom.”
Not waiting for her answer, I grab my toiletries and head for the bathrooms. It’s like I’m suffocating in our room. I can’t take her concern or her probing eyes. In the hallway, I sigh deeply. I lean against the wall and close my eyes, enjoying the quiet of the building. It’s too early for most of the students who prefer late classes instead of the early morning ones.
With my eyes closed, I hear footsteps climbing the stairs and coming my way. With a start, I open my eyes and face the person coming. I can’t stay
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