How my life changed

Chapter 2

"You´re too late again.", hissed Pitch.

I slowly looked up at his dirty gray brown eyes and quickly looked back to the floor. 

"I´m sorry. After school I was at the Library and I totally lost track of time..."

"It´s okay.", he said and grabbed me by my arm and dragged me into the apartment. Then he closed the door and locked it. I know what´s coming now. As long as the door is open and anyone could see something, I´m safe. But as soon as the door closed behind me all hell breaks loose. He yanked my bag down, and even tore one of the holders completely off,and then he threw it somewhere on the floor. He grabbed me violently on my wrist and pulled me to the bedroom.

"I´ll teach you not to let me wait.", he muttered on the way.

When we reached the bedroom, he ripped my jacket from me and took off my sweater. He tied me and... and I will  not go more precisely in detail here. I can only say it was painful. Very painful. And it was accompanied by the curses from Pitch. He over and over said how worthless I am. Again and again he had hit me as he struggled with his arousal problems. He blamed me for it, said I wouldn´t even be enough to make someone hard... 

When he was finally done with me, he threw me into the bathroom and told me to clean myself. He locked the door behind me and told me to hurry.

But I could only sit motionless on the ground. Not being able to show a feeling. Neither the pain I still felt, the grief to be here or the hatred against Pitch. I couldn´t express it. The only feeling I had known for so long was the feeling to be just a piece of dirt... No wait, a piece of shit fits better.

Scorn and loneliness in the deepest places in my heart. The feeling that it wouldn´t even matter a tiniest bit to cry because it would be never seen by anyone. No matter how loud I scream, I´m still silent for others. Believe me, I´ve already tried. It ended only in that I got more beats. Pitch hit me over and over again on my throat so that withing a very short time my voice was only a faint whisper and even I was barely able to hear myself. 

I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them while I put my head between my legs. Why am I even still in this world? Is there a meaning, a purpose for my existence?

I slowly stood up and looked at me in the small bathroom mirror. The lamp flickered again and again but still I could see how miserably I looked. My face was full with dried tears and my eyes still red and swollen. I sighed and walked over to the shower and turned the water on. I stepped into the shower and tried almost obsessed to wash the traces of Pitch on me away, but without success. Bruises were everywhere and traces of the various tools which Pitch was mostly trying to use on me. On my left arm was a big Scar. It started at my shoulder and got down to my elbow. Pitch had once thought it would be a great idea and very exciting with a knife.... Well, that´s the reason I have that scar. But it´s not like this one big scar would matter. It´s surrounded by many other scars. I am just a worthless doll used for sexual desires. On weekend pitch takes me always with him to such a shabby club around the corner. Actually, there are only Pedophiles but Pitch also took me with him. He said I look cute and that´s what the people want in there. Of course they can not go further than touching. I am, after all, Pitchs doll and no one else should have me. When someone had once tried to do more, Pitch let his entire "group" on the poor guy and the next day... Well the next day he was in the death information part in the newspapers. 

I sighed again and turned the water off. My helpless attempts to get the filth away which Pitch left on me failed all. I dried myself a little and wrapped my towel around my waist. Once again in front of the mirror, I sighed. I looked like usual. Not a single track of what had happened was visible. At least one good thing... Pitch would lock me up and beat me up even more if he saw something was still somehow visible. I opened the little cupboard above the sink. When I looked through it a small but well-known silver sparkle of the razor blade came in my sight. I immediately became even more numb. I reached for the sharp little relief and let me with my back to the wall slide down to the ground. I put the small razor blade a bit above my wrist and cut without any mercy in my flesh. Immediately the blood started to come out from the wounds and ran along my arm and down the floor. I quickly put my towel underneath because I wanted to stay out of trouble for stains on the floor. And then I continued with the cutting until I at some point was fainting from the loss of blood.