Being his bride

black limos

Annabella:

I awoke in a cold sweat, struggling to open my eyes, which had become encased in a vise of dried tears. The house was quiet, save for my labored breathing, and I resisted the urge to scream as I attempted to sit up. On my stomach, two black bruises sat in the center of my ribcage. I have to get to the bathroom.

The sudden thought would've made me laugh, had the woman I am forced to call my step-mom not made it her life mission to turn me into a punching bag. I should run away, was my next thought. This time fueled by years of pent up anger.

It was the picture that had convinced me otherwise. The last one I had to myself. Next to me bed in a plain oak brown frame was a picture of my dad, holding a purple and white cake, the sunlight turning his eyes a strange shade of emerald. Next to him was my brother, his blonde hair dotted with specks of green grass and his once white shirt dotted with flakes of brown. On my brothers back was me, completing the blonde haired trio while pointing at the cake that read Happy 16th  birthday baby girl.

Feeling the familiar burn of oncoming tears, I looked to the other side of me, and placed a hand on the light blue wall to my left for support as I stood and hobbled into the adjoined bathroom. When I heard the front door slam I nearly lost balanced, but managed to steady myself with enough time to catch her leaving the house. Probably to go get drunk. Again.

My bath was quick and uneventful, as were most things when I was alone, and afterwards I felt much better. Steaming hot water had relaxed my muscles considerably and Motrin had took away most of the pain, leaving only a dull ache in its wake.

I pulled one of my brother's jerseys over the undergarments I donned after my bath, and picked up my ipod from its nearly perminately place on the floor and put it on shuffle, taking a moment to cram the ear buds into place before making my way out the door and to the park on the next street.

My feet came to a stop in front of the small gap between two overgrown trees. Our spot. I smiled faintly at the memory of finding this place with my brother, Nathan, when we were five and a faint rush of excitement fluttered through me, quickly being replaced by saddness.

Tears began falling down my cheeks as I thought about all the picnic and hide and seek tournaments Nathan, dad, and I had here. Then, I saw a flash in my peripheral vision and turned to see a limo pulling away.

Must've been the sun reflecting off the mirrors, I reasoned to myself unconvincingly. Goosebumps covered my exposed arms and I made my way back home as quickly as I could, this time keeping the music off.

A/N: I finally got my phone back and after reading this atrocity decided to rewrite it.