Their Broken Angel

Chapter Eleven

I don't move from that spot on the floor until the churning in my stomach leaves. Groaning in discomfort, I stretch out my achy joints and try to get the crick out of my neck. I probably should have just crawled to the bed, but it's so far away. I just don't want to move. I wanna curl up in a ball and die. 

My eyes harden slightly as I remind myself in a whisper, "No. No dying. I promised mom." Sometimes I wish I didn't promise her though. What is there for me here? Suddenly having brothers isn't going to make my life magically fix itself. I'm not going to wake up and suddenly not be in pain. 

Shaking my head to clear the toxic thoughts, I force myself to stand, waiting until the world stops spinning before checking the clock hanging on the wall. 3:28. Great. I spent the night on the bathroom floor. Add that to my extensive list of accomplishments. Gritting my teeth in pain, I pull off my clothes and bandages. Setting the bandages on the bathroom sink to be washed, I pull myself into the shower using whatever solid surface I can find. This is going to be a long day. It takes so much out of me to pretend like I'm okay. But I don't even want to imagine what kind of hissy fit my newfound brothers would throw if I came down the stairs looking like a zombie. Actually, that might be kinda funny.

Turning the water on as hot as it will go, I attempt to burn off any remaining memory of my flashback. It's not always like this. I don't usually collapse to the floor for hours on end just because of a little flashback. But then again, I've never been out of that terrible house. I've never had an opportunity to collapse like that.

By the time my skin cells are sufficiently scorched, It's 4:37. Definitely did not just spend an entire hour in the shower. Stumbling over to the sink, I begin the arduous process of scrubbing blood out of my well-used bandages. 

Finishing up my task, I rewrap my wounds and look at the clock. 5:43. Maybe guys are right to make fun of girls. We really do take a long time to get ready. I think with a sardonic smile. Pulling on my clothes and making sure my gloves are in place, I walk in front of the mirror for a solid five minutes, easing any sign of a limp and making sure that all of my injuries are hidden. I learned a long time ago that if you practice enough, you can walk on a broken ankle and no one will know.

Taking a few deep breaths, I decide that I get to be ready for the day, and walk out the door. Creeping along the hallway as silently as possible, I make my way down to the kitchen. Maybe I can find some ibuprofen or something. It's been so long since I've had relief. I'd just finished my bottle a few days before Alessandro came. I just hadn't had time to get another. Maybe that's what I'll do today. That and get a job.

I'm torn out of my thoughts when I arrive in the kitchen. Looking around desperately, I don't even notice when someone sneaks up behind me. 

"Looking for something, sorella?" Dante asks, seeming both curious and suspicious.

I think I jump about three feet in the air, clutching my arms to my chest in shock. "Oh my goodness! Dante! You scared me!" I cry.

"Sorry scimmietta, I didn't mean to scare you." He replies with an apologetic smile. "Now, What were you looking for so early in the morning?"

"What did you call me? Also, it's not that early, it's nearly six." I reply, trying to change the subject.

"I called you a little monkey" He replies proudly, tapping my nose with his pointer finger. "And don't think that you can change the subject that quickly young lady. What were you searching around for?"

"I was looking for ibuprofen, do you guys have any? I was planning to go out a bit later to grab some, but I don't really want to wait anymore." I say calmly.