time to begin [n.h]

two; old friends

May 20

 

Today wasn’t the day I was hoping to have. My old best friend – just a friend now, I suppose – had pushed me towards my locker saying “motherfucker” while I scraped my hand right on the sharp part of my locker and nearly broke my phone. And that was just the beginning of it.

 

There’s only two people that I actually talk to. Well, not really. We sit together at lunch and in classes so we don’t look like loners; it was sort of an unspoken agreement. We’ve been doing it all through high school and have barely spoken a word to each other. Most of what we’ve said was freshman year when we were still thinking of being actual friends. But they were them and I’m me so who am I kidding.

 

My only actual friend doesn’t live here. In the previous entry, I mentioned those internet friends that I met because of One Direction. One of those friends was this girl named Charlotte who went through a lot in her life, like me. I help her and she helps me, it’s like a teamwork thing. The thing about Charlotte is that she’s dating my other friend, Emilee. They’re actually the cutest couple ever. I want a relationship like theirs, minus the distance part because that would totally suck.

 

I don’t get how people can stand long distance relationships. To be so far away from someone you love seems so painful. Not being able to hug them or kiss them or comfort them properly when they’re feeling down. I consider myself dating Niall (even though we’ve never met or come in contact) and being this far away from him isn’t my cup of tea. Ha, British reference.

 

I’ve also got a few other friends on the internet that don’t exactly mean a lot to me. They are internet friends, it’s not like I’ll ever meet up with them or anything. They’re just there so I don’t feel lonely all the time. Except for Chipper and Emilee. I have a feeling they’re more than just internet friends.

 

I’m sitting on my bed, notebook in hand, writing another entry in this diary. It lets me release all those negative Emilee this. They have their own problems to deal with and their lives are probably much worse than mine. I’m probably just over exaggerating everything to make myself feel like I deserve things that I actually don’t.

 

I can hear and feel my father’s stomping up the stairs, which can only mean one thing. I’ll be back in an hour or so.

I put the book in between my mattress and the floor and stand up quickly, making sure I’m quiet at the same time.

“Abigail, get over here!” He yells, slurring with every word. He’s drunk yet again. It’s not like I’m surprised. I haven’t seen him sober in what feels like forever.

I walk out the door to see him right there, in front of my face. He grabs my wrist tightly, causing me to wince. Still gripping my wrist, he pulls me down the stairs. I stay emotionless because it’s just easier. That way he thinks he isn’t winning, that he doesn’t have power.

He slaps me hard across the face, sending my face in that direction as well. I feel a stinging sensation where his hand made contact and wince inside of my head, still trying not to show how much it actually hurt.

“You dirty slut! Why can’t you be more like your sister?!” He yells drunkenly, throwing me to the floor. I curl up into a ball as he kicks my stomach, face, and everywhere else he can get to. I silently cry, remembering my sister.

I look out the window, watching trees pass by at ultra-speed. Everything I see has a candy. Trees are lollipops, bushes are gumdrops, street lights are licorice. This world is completely made out of candy and I could eat all of it. This world is perfect and I would do anything to live in it.

               

This is getting boring though. I just want to get out of this car; it’s felt like it’s been hours of being stuck in here.

 

“Dad, are we there yet?!” I yell up to him, even though it’s not necessary since we’re in a car. Being an 8 year-old, I didn’t realise that I didn’t need to shout all the time.

 

“Almost, just let me ge-“ He’s cut off by the screeching of tires around us. I scream and close my eyes, not really knowing what’s happening. But whatever it is, it scares me. I look around and realise that there’s a truck, going full speed towards up. I squeeze my eyes shut.

 

I’m going to die today. I say a quick prayer in my head, hearing the screaming of my 16y year-old sister, Lilah, when it stopped out of nowhere. I peeked my eyes open and looked at the scene around me. I saw dad passed out in the front seat, he was still breathing though. I looked in the passenger seat to find my sister covered in blood. I started crying harder and louder, curling up into a ball on the seat.

 

'Why am I alive?' I had thought.

 

My father kicks me straight in the face, salty tears stream silently down and I know that was definitely going to leave a bruise, a very large one. I did my very best to wipe away the tears before he can see.

“Stand up.” He growls. I do as he asked and he grabs my wrist like before and he pulls me to his bedroom. The bedroom that used to be my mother’s and his. He throws me on the bed and strips off his clothes and basically rips my shirt and trousers off of me.

I don’t do anything, just think to myself. Think to myself of how I’m going to get out of here someday. Maybe not today or tomorrow. Maybe not for a few months. But one of these days, I’ll be out of here for good.

~*~

last edited 6/4/14 3:02 PM CST