Breaking From the Past

Chapter 7: My Side of the Story

Conrad's POV:

A soft knock pounds heavily on my white door, a familiar female voice seeping through the tiny cracks that are barely noticeable, telling me it's time to get up. My head telling me to just get up, but my heart just can't make the effort to. I am hurting more than usual, not just physically, but mentally too. When there is no response from me, my door pushes open, the door knob tapping the wall behind it making a ping noise as it makes contact with the white rubber door stop.

"Sweety, you should really go to school. Zori is probably sitting there right now sulking at her desk because you didn't show up." My mothers voice is calm and pushy at the same time. I listen to what she has to say, but I don't act on her words. My movements to pull the covers closer to me is futile, seeing as my arms and legs are numb from the excruciating pain I am in.

"Mom just leave me alone!" I scream, startling even me. Mom just looks at me, both with surprise and sadness, washing over her face. "I don't care if Rina is feeling down!! She needs to learn that people won't always be there!! Just go away!" I sit up in my messy bed, ready to bolt over to the open door and slam it closed, chasing my mother out, but she already painted a guise of pain and worry on her countenance. She walks over to the white door, pulling on the small brass knob, gently closing the door behind her. I can still hear her dramatic footsteps as she makes her way down the stairs.

I don't want this...

I don't need this...

Everything hurts...inside and out... I thought, as I lay in my soft bed, not thinking, not feeling, a void of emptiness surrounding me. I can't explain the feeling, it is almost as if a black oblivion is taking hold of my heart in this exact moment, dragging me along it's rocky road, breaking every bone in my body and pulling every hair one by one.

I drift, reluctantly, into sleep, a dream appearing before me...

It is just a normal spring day, the wind howling outside the window, getting ready for some rain in the next few days. I came home from my elementary school and my mother feeds me some sort of snack. I think she said it's Totinos or something. A few minutes after I get my snack on a plate in front of me, the front door burst open, hitting the wall behind it, hard. My father stomping through the house and up the stairs to his room changing out of his dirty work clothes. He works as a carpenter, so he is gone for most of the day and comes back sweaty and full if dirt.

He came downstairs and greets my mother with a half smile and me with a look of absolute detest. "Hi dad, how was work?" My 8 year old voice shoots through his ears like nails on a chalkboard. I can see his eyes shift from warm to cold in a matter of seconds as he listens to my question.

"Shut up you immature brat!" He scolds, pointing his finger at me as if it is some sort of pointy weapon he can use against me. "Finish your food and go upstairs, you have homework or something to do." He yanks me off the chair as I finish my last bite of my snack. My mother, watching in horror, as she always does when things like this happen. She isn't a very 'get in the middle of things' kind of person. Whenever my dad beat at me, she would stand there like nothing is wrong, sure she'll flinch here and there when I cry out, but she never once tried to help me out of dad's strong grip.

"Dad! That hurts" I can feel my hair being pulled out at the roots as I am being dragged up to my room, tears falling from my young face. I can feel my face starting to shift as I get closer to the top, waiting for whatever was going to happen. Whatever happens, happens.