Peace on Earth

A Life For A Life

"Freak!" someone calls as I walk down the hall, I shift my backpack to my other shoulder and sink my head even lower. I resist the reflex to turn around and face the voice, because I know I'll be sorry if I do. My name is Nikki Williams, and this is, regrettably, only my second year of high school.
I'm almost to the high school building exit when I pass by a group of girls, snickering and mock-cutting their wrists. I speed up in my haste to pass them by quickly.
"Hey Emo," one of the girls call. "Where are you going so fast?" As I pass through the doors I begin running. While I run, my ears strain to hear if the sound will come today, the sound that will instantly shatter all of my hopes of making it home safely. My heart rate speeds up a little as I hear it; the sound of pursuit.
As I dodge around students, I hear the girls' footsteps slowly gaining on me. This was a typical after school activity, leaping over backpacks, making sharp turns around the fountain, and sidestepping teachers that couldn't care less about what was going on. I could feel the fear mixed with adrenaline pulsing through my veins as I ran down the sidewalk, that led home. I lived fairly close so I could walk to and from school every day. The girls were still right on my tail, I could hear them laughing and jeering at me as I fling my backpack to the side, in order to run faster. I turn down an alleyway, that was a shortcut to my house. Almost there, but just a little too slow. One of the girls grabs my arm, and pulls me to the ground. They surround me at once like a pack of wolves, trapping their prey, who soon relizes that after all of it's efforts, all of it's attempts to elude them, resistance is futile. They box me in, and wait for their leader, Heather, to make the first move. She stands above me, sneering as she flips her long, unnaturally blond hair behind her.
"What's wrong, Emo?" she taunts, "Not enough blood in your legs? Maybe you should try keeping it in your body." I scoot back a few inches as she strides closer. "Since, you're so big on self-harm," She sneers, "You shouldn't mind us helping out." She kicks me hard in the hip, and I cringe to the side. The others join in the slaughter, kicking my head and stomping on my legs. I curl into the fetal position to try to minimize the damage, but one of the girls lifts me up by my hair to expose more surface area. As they assault me, Heather taunts me with jabs about my father.
"These can't be worse than the beatings your drunk daddy must give you," she mocks, "It's your own fault he beats you, you know. You're a burden to him and everyone else. Why don't you just kill yourself?" Suddenly, Heather lifts me up and shoves me against the wall, one of her friends hands her a knife, and she presses it to my arm, smiling at me wickedly. She draws it along the circumference of my arm slowly, spelling out the word "unwanted". I scream as the blade splits my skin apart, leaving a crimson trail in it's wake. My screams bring laughter from the sick bullies, and they kick me down again. They rip my hair and tear my clothes, until Heather gives the last kick and they begin to retreat.
"Say hi to your daddy for me," she calls as she walks away, cackling madly. I lay on the ground a few more seconds before attempting to move. Tears blur my vision as I slowly sit up, but it wasn't from the physical abuse, it was from the truth of the words. My father did beat me, but I didn't blame him. It was my own fault, my mom died giving birth to me and my father had every right to blame me. I'm a curse to this world, and if it wasn't for me, my mom would still be here. I look at the time on my watch, and my heart rate speeds up as the clock says 4:30 pm. I was late, I was supposed to be home a half hour ago. I quickly get up and almost faint as my vision blackens. Quickly retrieving my backpack, I stagger home as fast as I can. When I reach my house, I try to open the door as quietly as possible, but the un-oiled door squeaks long and loudly as I move it. My breath freezes in my lungs as I creep in, wondering if he will be cross at my impunctuality. I don't hear anything though, so I proceed to walk up the stairs leading to my room. I stealthily peer into my dad's room and relax when I see him watching T.V. with a beer bottle in his hand. He was drunk, but he didn't appear to notice my absence. I retreat to my room, fling my backpack on the ground, and glance at myself in the mirror. For a minute I considered taking Heather's advice, and ending all this pain myself, but I knew I couldn't do that. As tempting as it sounded, my dad needed me to take care of him, I at least owed him that much. No matter how much my dad could abuse me, I would still always love him. It would be so selfish to leave him here alone, after I already took his wife.
"Nikki," I hear my dad yell, "Is that you?"
"Yes," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.
"You're late," he bellowed. I hear him get up and shuffle over to my room. I glance around frantically, and back away from the door. He enters my room, with the beer bottle still in his hands.
"I'm sorry, dad." I apologize. "There were these girls and they-"
"How dare you try to excuse yourself." He advances on me, wielding his beer bottle like a club. He swings it into the side of my head, and I go down. He looms above me, his face twisted in drunk fury.
"Dad, It'll never happen again, I promise." My chest is locked in tightening fear, as I clutch the side of my head. My hands and arms are cut up from the broken glass, and blood is trickling out of my ear.
"You sadistic shrew," he says, kicking me in the spine. "After everything you've taken from me, you have the guts to disobey me. Well you've hurt me for the last time." He picks me up by my throat and shoves me against the wall. I can smell the foul alcohol on his breath as he brings his face closer. "Admit you killed her," he hisses, banging the back of my head against the wall. "Admit it!"
"Dad... please." I was barely able to choke out. This makes him angrier and he punches me on the side of my head, knocking me down again.
"I want to hear you say it," he bellows, stomping on my leg. I scream as a deafening crack sounds through the room. "Say it," he commands, "Say it!" I try to say it in the hopes that it will satisfy him, but I can't stop screaming. I clutch my leg as I try to crawl away, still screaming. "Shut up, you wanna make the whole neighborhood panic?" he yells, grabbing me by my good leg and pulling my back. He grabs my arm and throws me against the wall. I know I need to escape before this gets out of hand. Thinking quickly, I pull the rug he's standing on; already unbalanced from the booze, he falls to the side. I stand up as best as I can and fast-hobble towards the stairs. If I can just make it to the front door I'll be safe, but my broken leg slows me down, and he intercepts me above the stairs. "How dare you," he screams grabbing me again. "Now you try to kill me? You're a sick murderous wench. You'll pay for what you've done!" He picks me up and throws me down the stairs. I bump and roll down the wooden stairs until I roll into the corner of a bookcase at the bottom. My head hits the very edge and the world goes red then black, as all the abuse, sorrow, and pain leaves me for good. The last thing I see is a picture of my mom, sitting elegantly on the bookcase that freed me.