'Blood is thicker than water.'
A phrase that has been past around throughout the ages, reminding us that familial bonds will always be stronger than the bonds of friendship and dare I say, love.
A phrase that was also misquoted.
'The blood of the c...
"Please help me," I mumbled out to know one, in particular, I just needed someone to hear me someone to help.
Paul never used to be like this, when I was first fostered, just after I'd turned fourteen, he wasn't aggressive. I lived here with him, his wife Vanessa and their daughter Rowan and although he was opposed to adopting he did it anyway to make his wife happy. He wasn't like a father figure but he was never rude either.
Until his wife died.
We were all in a car crash, the car had tipped over onto Vanessa's side causing the crash to impact her the most, he promised her he'd look after us but promises had always been made to be broken, after that day it's like something in Paul died. He became more angry and snappy not just with me but with Rowan too, and that's when the abuse began.
Rowan took more hits than me, apparently, she was too much of a painful reminder.
I guess one day it got too much for her because I remember coming home from school and she wasn't here. I didn't think too much of it till I found a sticky note on the door of my wardrobe telling me she was sorry but she had to run away.
At first, I was mad at her, but as time passed I wasn't mad I was just worried. I didn't know if she was okay, I waited to see if she would write a letter come back for me but she never did.
As he got more and more drunk he made less sense. He would call out for Vanessa and he would always talk about how it wasn't a mistake, he said he knew they did it and he was coming for them.
When he was drunk he got angry much quicker but his beatings weren't as bad his hits were sloppy and not as powerful but when he was sober it was brutal.
I'd take days off school constantly, each time my old bruises healed new ones appeared. Though it wasn't just the physical abuse it was the emotional abuse that killed me just as bad if not worse.
I was tainted through and through.
His marks littered my body, I was his masterpiece, my body was the canvas that held all his deceit and my mind had been polluted by his venomous words, it was nothing more than a graveyard of the old me.
But even his worst hits weren't as bad as this nothing was as bad as this.
My fear-filled eyes took in every inch of his room as a way of distraction, I hadn't been to school in two days due to had bad the beatings had been.
I could hear his footsteps coming, each step heavier than the last, the fact that he was sober scared me the most he was completely aware of what he was doing and he was completely aware of his strength, the power he had over me.
The door slammed shut and he approached me the way a predator approached his prey.
He pushed me onto his bed and began unbuckling his belt, it was like my throat has been silenced as tears streamed down my face I could only mumble no over and over again.
I had to leave.
My trembling hands picked up the lamp from his bedside table and I clumsily hit him over the head with it.
"You bitch," he cried as he held the back of his head.
I wasted no time and ran straight out of his room towards the front door, I felt the ground scrape across my feet with each step I took but as I heard the thundering steps behind me I ran faster and faster ignoring the pain coursing through me.
I kept running and so did he, as I heard him getting closer I knew this was it I couldn't take it anymore the pain was unbearable.
I ran into an alleyway I could run straight down or turn onto a corner with a dead-end but I knew if I kept running he'd catch me and I couldn't take anymore. I ran into the corner with a dead end and let the darkness blanket me. If he found me then maybe he'd do me a favour and reunite me with Amalea because I couldn't take this anymore.
His footsteps ran right past me down the alleyway, but I didn't move I waited until they faded and then they were gone, he was gone.
By some miracle, I pulled myself up and limped out of the alleyway but I didn't make it very far as I collapsed against the wall, tears streamed down my face.
I was a mess, I was happy and sad and angry and free.
A car pulled up on the other side of the road though I didn't lift my head.
Whoever it was, took cautious steps towards me before they said, "Sweetheart are you okay,"
Her voice was soft, it was motherly, but it didn't matter because no matter how nice people seemed it was a facade. She sat down beside me leaving some distance and placed some tissues on the ground.
"I'm Mrs Wood."
- x -
Author's Note: If you don't remember Mrs Brown is the woman who took Iris in at the foster home, her character was mentioned in chapter two and three.
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yes I updated after I longgg time don't look at me like that.
