Infinity

Chapter 8: Eleanor

Thursday morning began with an attempt to stand up that left me on the floor biting my lip and trying not to cry out as pain shot through my body. I was still so sore from the day before, and the fact that i hardly got 3 hours of sleep due to the party last night (and the cleanup afterwards, which i was in charge of), didn't help. I took a moment to compose myself before grabbing the edge of my bed and pushing myself up onto shaky legs. I looked over at my alarm clock, shocked to find that it was 8:36. Not only had i missed both busses that could pick me up, but I'd also missed all of first and second period. My dad was going to kill me. Thank god he was already at work.

I stumbled over to my dresser, which had my outfit for the day neatly folded on top of it. My dad dictated what I wore to school to the point where my option were blouse, sweater, or dress for a top, and slacks or a skirt for bottoms. He didn't want me to dress like a slut, as he put it. Unless he was around his friends, of course. But that's unimportant.

I slipped on a pair of grey slacks, wincing as the slightly rough material rubbed against my fresh bruises. Oh, what I would give for a pair of sweatpants at the moment. But alas, I owned none. The only casual clothes I owned were a single pair of jeans I kept hidden in a box under my bed. I thought that if I ever really wanted to, I could try and sneak out of the house in them one day, maybe for once in my life not look like a disgusting, stuck up snob. But my dad would catch me. He always did.

My yellow sweater irritated my skin as well, but I could handle it. I walked into the bathroom, starting to regain my composure as I got used to the pain. It always took a little while, but I had it under control. Looking in the mirror, I sighed as I studied the damage dad had done. A dark bruise on my cheek, a scratch just under my ear, the yellow and black coloring around my left eye from a black eye I had gotten about a week ago. I went in medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of concealer, eyeliner, and mascara, beginning my transformation. My freckled and bruised face soon looked clearer than day, and I tested out a smile at myself.

I look...

Pitiful.

I replaced the makeup in its spots put my hair in the tightest bun possible, then walked out, grabbing my backpack but not slipping the straps over my shoulders yet. It was loaded with binders and papers, and I didn't need that weight on my back yet. Walking over to the door, I paused for a moment to survey my room and make sure everything was in place.

My beige beadspread was smoothed out, my black side tables were clear of any items, along with my dresser. That was it.

I walked downstairs, wondering if Anabelle or Denise were here. They were my dad's housekeepers, and also some of the few people I could talk to about anything. They really were wonderful women, especially for having to put up with my dad. They actually seemed to care about me at times.

"Hello Eleanor."

I froze. No way. He was supposed to be at work, right!?

Well, I was wrong.

I watched as my dad walked over from behind the banister, eyes giving me an icy stare that sent shivers down my spine, though I tried to control them. I'm in big trouble. If I was lucky, he would reserve his punishment for later, so I could make it through the school day as an antisocial yet functional human being. Mornings could really be the worst.

Of course, life was not on my side.

He grabbed me by my bun, yanking the hair out from the elastic ponytail holder as he pulled me down the stairs. I bit my tongue, trying not to cry out in pain.

"Dad, I'm going okay?" I said through clenched teeth. In response, he slammed me into the wall and backhanded me so hard I saw stars. I stumbled and fell to the floor, and he took this opportunity to kick me in the side a few times before backing off. Not wanting to provoke more, I laid there in silence, forcing the tears brimming in my eyes to stay put. This wasn't the time to cry. I'd cried enough in the janitor's closet yesterday, and even those tears were a waste.