Falling for red

{42} Broken

A/N TW: Mentions of suicide and self harm.

Now that it was over I felt all the fight in my body leave me. He'd wake up later but I could deal with that. My mum would go to work tomorrow before coming home so it was fine.

Except it wasn't. My fucking crazy dad was back and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Tears streamed down my face as I made my way to my bedroom. I didn't even have enough energy to clean my cuts and there was a lot of them. 

I zoned out as I continued to think about today. My dad was going to kill me. My cries became louder as I realised what my life had turned into. Sure my childhood was a mess but I thought that part of my life was over, with only a few lingering effects. 

The worst part was this time I was all alone. No one to share the pain with. No one to comfort me. I curled up into a ball as I sobbed. I was becoming increasingly aware of the pain all over my body but all I could do was cry. My hoodie absorbing my tears that flowed.     

Why the fuck am I crying over that piece of shit? Because deep down in me I knew I wished things didn't have to be like this. I didn't want to contemplate killing my dad. And I definitely didn't want him to kill me.

 I wanted to be a normal family so bad, where the worst of my worries would be upsetting my parents because of my grades. I spent so many nights as a child begging for a happy family. I wanted to smile when I thought of my dad. I didn't want to look at my mum with worry every time she held a knife knowing she thought the exact same thing I did. 

I was becoming envious of my mum because she was visibly healing. Kol was the best thing that happened to her. Why couldn't I heal her? Why couldn't she heal me the way Kol's healing her? Why couldn't we heal each other?

There will always be a hollow part of my heart that can never be filled. It was the broken part of me. The part my dad caused. The part my dad broke.

Every time I thought about my dad a small piece of myself died. But this time was different, he had gotten to me. He had broken me. Whenever I thought about my dad I was emotionless, refusing to let him get to me. But I couldn't take it anymore. I was crying, not only for now but for the years of pain he had put me through.

I brought my hand up to my face to wipe my tears away, becoming aggravated with myself, but my wrist hurt too much. A bitter chuckle escaped me as I thought about how pathetic I was. Crying because daddy doesn't love me. I was the epitome of worthless. My chuckle had echoed in the silence and even I was shocked by the iciness it held.   

I claim to hate Killian but couldn't even kill him when the opportunity came up. I wanted to escape from it all but I just couldn't do it. And I refused to kill myself. I shouldn't be the one dying for his fucking crimes. So why couldn't I do it? Why couldn't I just fucking pull the trigger? It would all be over. I would get justice for me and my mum.

My anger started to cloud over everything else except the pain and not the physical kind. I got up and punched the wall. The pain flowing through my body like electricity. I went around my room and broke everything enjoying the way it crumbled around me. I was in control. I broke it. Not my dad. 

I watched as the red dripped off my hands and on to the floor, staining the carpet, being left as a reminder of this day.

Who was I joking when I thought I wasn't my fathers daughter. Clearly the apple didn't fall far from the tree. I was destructive. It seems that most things I touch I taint.

I heaped into a ball in the corner of my room once I realised what I had done. I was back to square one, crying about my life.

Normally I would fix myself with alcohol but I didn't want to walk past him; see him. So I was left to face my emotions sober, something I've never done. Alcohol was always there for me, a friend if you will. It was something I could always fall back on without worrying if I was a burden or if I would break it.