I looked in the mirror. Shattered by her. There weren't any cuts this time. My back was filled with shades of dark blue and dark purple. She was smart whenever she would try to hurt me. Not in the visible parts of my body.
By the age of 15, you get pretty good at hiding the bruises. They have makeup now so you can cover it up.
School days are always long. I try not to bring attention to myself. People point out something they just noticed. They think they just found a cure to cancer or something. It's goes something like this, "Oh my god guys! Look!! Look at what I found!!" So whenever the bruises are dark, I wear a jacket. It gets really hot sometimes but it's better than someone finding out.
I hate coming home. She's always at a bar or something trying to find a boyfriend. Dad died when I 4 years old. But whenever she comes home, she's drunk. She's happy one minute, next minute she's chasing me with a vase. Often, she doesn't get me. She's an idiot who runs around the house with heels and makeup smearing down her face. But today was different. She walked into the house crying. Laying on the floor crying. She probably got rejected by a guy.
"It's all your fault you worthless bitch!" She screamed from downstairs.
I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. They weren't quiet. Then you can hear her tripping.
"Open the damn door you worthless bitch!"
Here we go again. But this time I'm escaping.
YOU ARE READING
Behind The Doors
Teen FictionEmma hides everything pretty well. The kids at school don't see it. But her mother knows. She knows because she created it.
