I was having another nightmare.
I was lying down on the dirt underneath my mom's old piece of shit truck, trying to hide from her. She had one too many to drink, once again, for the who knows how many times in my life, and she was on one of her rampages. Only this time, she wasn't just on alcohol, she was on speed. When she's on speed, her eyes are bloodshot red and it's almost as if that is all she can see. Red. And the target is always me.
"BRIANNA! BRIANNA. FUCKING. LEWIS. I'M COMIN' TO GETCHA!"
I stifled a breath as I saw her step outside of the front door of our house. I tried to calm my breathing as I watched her old, spotted bare feet inch closer and closer, just one step at a time. I could faintly see a Jim Bean bottle hanging from her yellow finger nailed hand and in the other hand was a sharpened butcher knife. Her favorite weapon.
I tried to control the shivering that began to take over my body because of the cold, winter air masked with the coldness of the dirt from underneath me and prayed to God that she wouldn't find me. I mentally tried to think of ways that I could escape, possibly go onto the roof or--
Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain on my arm as I watched my mother's knife stab at me. I looked into her bloodshot eyes and saw evil plastered all over her face.
"Found ya."
She yanked on my arm and pulled me out from underneath the truck. I forcefully fought back, but the last thing I saw was the knife raised and aiming for my chest.
"Lydia, wake up! LYDIA!"
I felt someone shaking me and I immediately acted on impulse. In case I haven't made this clear, I had nightmares almost daily and usually woke to my mother bashing me on the head with some sort of liquor bottle screaming, "SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU MISERABLE BITCH! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU BEFORE I BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!" But I didn't this time.
I screamed and before I thought about what I was doing, I slapped Drake right across the face.
"Fuck." He spat, as his left hand touched the red handprint on his cheek. His eyes squinted in anger as he pulled himself of the couch arm rest that he had his right hand on.
"Oh my god. I'm so sorry." I said, while immediately jumping up to see if he was okay.
He looked back at me, and my heart immediately sped up in fear. Shit, now he's going to beat me up. I guess this time I deserve it. I quickly turned around and bent down, preparing myself for the lashing while my body tensed with anticipation.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
My heart felt like it stopped and I slowly turned my head around, keeping my body in the position to be beaten up. I didn't really know what to say, because I thought it was pretty clear that I was ready for whatever punishment he had been planning on giving me.
"Well?" He said harshly, while looking at me in disbelief.
I could still make out the red handprint on his left cheek. "A-...Aren't you going to beat me up?" I asked casually.
His eyes widened as he looked down at my body's current position. When his eyes met mine again, they weren't so angry this time. A smirk actually appeared onto his face and he crossed his arms over his chest. He was just standing there, which made me incredibly confused. Why isn't he beating me up?
"What?" I stated a bit more stern than I intended. I mentally cursed myself. I wasn't in the right place to be questioning his authority.
His smirk remained plastered on his face and he stifled a laugh. "Perfect life, huh?"
YOU ARE READING
Why, Hello Happiness.
Random(Previously known as I Was Perfectly Happy Until You Came Along...Yes, I'm Lying You Idiot.) Brianna Lewis is not your average teenage girl. In fact, she's far from it. She grew up in a town, not known by the government, called Purple Thread, Neva...
