Reborn

Chapter One

She woke up in her bed, unaware of how she had gotten home the night before, let alone into her house.

Light surfaced through the ripped rags that she used as curtains on her window, and the faint smell of cigarettes leaked into her room from the crack underneath her bedroom door.

Lia allowed herself to stretch, her back cracking as it arched. Looking over to her digital clock on the box next to her bed, she sat up, rubbing the small of her back in habit. The cheap mattress her mother gave her when Lia was seven years old always made her back hurt in the morning. However, that morning, it didn’t seem to hurt as much as usual.

She slid her legs to the side of her bed raising her arms to stretch once again. Her clock’s alarm went off. The shrill ringing caused Lia to panic and hit it to turn it off. She didn’t want to wake her mother.

Lia dragged herself to the bathroom, carefully making sure not to cause any noise on her way there. She washed her face, avoiding the mirror. She knew it would only show a face that would be purple and swollen from what her mother did the night before. Lia touched her cheekbone and winced. Flashes of her mother’s fist came flooding into her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as if to banish the memories. It had been like this ever since she was born, for almost 18 years. Her mother was always high on something, or simply drunk. Lia couldn’t remember the last time her mother was sober.

She cautiously padded back to her bedroom, putting on her clothes for the day and sliding her shoes on. She checked the time: 7:30am. Just enough time for breakfast, she thought happily to herself. She was as hungry as a wolf.

She went to her kitchen, unaffected by the syringes and cigarette butts on her dining table. She got out some cornflakes, but they were stale as she ate them. Though, she didn’t care. A meal was a meal, and she was grateful for it. She hardly ate most days.

Finally done with breakfast, she picked up her bag and swung it lightly over her shoulder, putting a bruised apple into it for lunch. Running her fingers through her choppy brown hair, she made her way out of the apartment and made her way to school.

When she arrived, she received the usual funny looks from her peers. They stared at her longer that day. They whispered to each other too.

Mid-way through the school day, she went to the girl’s toilets. The room was pristine clean and always had soap in the dispensers; Lia loved it. She took showers in the PE change rooms on her morning breaks because her mother never let her shower at home. The school’s teachers were always considerate to Lia, because they were the ones that found the bruises that she would come to school with every day, only to be made fun of by the student body.

Though, in the toilets, she made the mistake of looking in the mirror. What she expected was a bruised face, but the face staring back at her was untouched. Lia frowned. She touched her cheekbone; there was no pain. She checked the bruises on her chest and stomach. There was nothing; only clear skin.

She took a moment to look at herself. Her hair was full and had coloured itself darker, and her bones weren’t sticking out as they normally did. Even her lips had gained colour.

She had a sudden thought.

“What the hell,” Lia whispered. She shrugged down the shoulder of her sweater. Looking in the mirror, she studied her shoulder where the thing bit her the night before. But alas, there was no trace of a bite.

She adjusted her sweater and once again gazed at her reflection. Brown eyes stared back at her, but they weren’t empty as they normally were.

Gathering her bag and thoughts, Lia left the restroom. That was too strange to keep looking at. She was so used to looking at a broken girl staring back at her through the mirror, but today, that same girl was there. Only she looked… healthy.

After school had ended, Lia made her way back home, dreading every moment that she took a step closer to that apartment. Her heart was hammering against her chest. What will her mother do when she would see Lia? Will she beat her again? Will her mother’s pimp be there? Blood drained from her face. She didn’t want him there. Not again.

She began to shake as she grew closer to her apartment’s door. She listened intently; rap music was playing from her apartment.

Shit, Lia cursed to herself. He’s there.

A surge of panic rose in Lia’s chest. He always touched her when he was there. She didn’t want to be touched.

She slid her key into the lock and turned it, a sick feeling rising inside her body as she opened the door slowly.

Nobody was in the living room. A small part of her sighed in relief, but Lia knew they were in here somewhere. It was only a matter of time before he saw her.

She trod carefully to her bedroom, closing her door silently, hoping not to disturb the scenario of what was happening in the next room. Grunts from him and fake moans from her mother was all that was audible right at that moment. It made her sick. She came home to this almost every single day.

She waited about fifteen minutes until it was over. That’s when Lia heard the footsteps coming towards her room. She grew anxious with every one. The door handle turned, and he opened the door. Zipping his jeans up, he smirked at Lia.

“Ready, Cordelia?” he coaxed.

“Don’t,” she pleaded.

The pimp smirked again, moving towards her and reached to touch her cheek. “You look different. That mouth…” he moved his thumb to her bottom lip.

Suddenly, rage filled her body. A ball of courage fumed within her, and she grabbed his wrist. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

The big man’s eyes turned dark with rage and control. He threw her down to her bed and got on top of her, trying to take off her clothes.

Lia grew more with fury, an anger so deep that she could no longer control herself.

A strength broke from her body and she threw the pimp off her. Her pulse was beating hard, not with anxiety, but with rage. She had had enough of this sicko taking control of her body. She wanted to rip his face apart.

She jumped on top of him, unable to control her ferocity. She brought her fists down on his face, her nails growing into claws. Her voice became a roar “I said, don’t fucking touch me!”

She ripped into him, her nails clawing his torso as she unleashed her wrath. He didn’t fight back; his body was limp, his face bloody. His breathing was scarce when she grew aware of what she had done.

Lia stood up, her hands covered in blood. That’s when her mother walked in.

Lia stared at her mother, her at Lia. Fear appeared in her parent’s eyes as she let out a piercing scream, terrified of Lia.

“Mom,” Lia begged “Mom please, I didn’t mean to, please don’t scream!”

At that moment, her mom fainted, colour drained from her face.

Terror arose in Lia’s body. A tidal wave of thoughts bombarded her mind. Oh, god. What do I do? Did I kill him? What do I do with the body? What have I done!?

She stopped thinking and followed her instincts: run.