A Trophy Father's Trophy... Daughter

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

"Soooooo, you're home." He wasn't drunk. Yet. He hadn't gone to the bar. Yet. That was what he liked to do at night. When he wasn't drunk, the abuse wasn't as bad. But he was always angry, and I knew that whether he was drunk or not, that wrath would always be lingering for the rest of his life. 

I didn't look up at him as I began walking up the stairs. But he ran over to me and grabbed my arms tight. I squirmed in his grasp but knew there was no use. 

"Where do you think you're going, you little punk? To your room so you can go cry about how horrible your life is? Let me tell you something. So many people have it way worse than you. You have a house to live under, food to eat, and a father. You have a wonderful life. You think I treat you unfairly, but I don't. I treat you the way you deserve. You deserve this. You will amount to nothing. Noooo-thhiiii-nnnggg." The way he dragged out the word nothing hit me hard. I already felt like nothing. I already felt like I would amount to nothing. I didn't need to hear it anymore. I just stared into his cold, hard eyes, and waited for him to loosen his grip on my arms.

"Get outta here. I'm tired of seeing your putrid face." He pushed me into the railing and walked away. I looked at my arms, and saw two hand shaped bruises forming on my forearms. I watched as the red turned to a purple black color in a matter of seconds. 

I was tired of it. Tired of the hitting. Tired of the kicking. Tired of the insults. Tired of him. Tired of life. I didn't exactly want to die, but I didn't have anything to live for. I have no idea what was keeping me alive. 

I looked at my jewelry box. It was just a plain, brown, wooden box with some old necklaces, bracelets, and rings in it. And one other thing. It wasn't jewelry. It was my razor blade. I remember being 14, and tucking it safely away under a ring. I won't lie and say that I've forgotten about it, because I haven't. I know it's there. It should've been thrown away a while ago, but I just couldn't seem to part with it. It was almost a part of me. I think I actually almost loved it. Strange, I know. I got up, and slowly walked over to the box. Lifting the lid, I peered inside. I lifted up the ring I had put the blade under. Sure enough, it was there. The top of it silver and still shiny. The blade part of it still stained with blood. (No matter how many times I'd cleaned it, it would always be stained crimson.) My mind told my hands to drop the lid and my feet to walk away. But they didn't. My feet stayed planted in front of the box, and my hand reached in and grabbed the razor. 

You're back? I knew you'd be back. You coward. 

I'm not a coward. I'm just stressed. I'm being pushed over the edge.

No. You're a coward. Just like your father calls you. Just like he calls your mother. You want to feel my pain again. I knew you couldn't resist me. It's been too long my love.

I can resist all I want. I don't have to use you. I can walk right back over there and put you back. I can throw you away if I want to. 

Then why don't you? Oh yes, that's right. You won't. You can't. You can't let go of me. You love me too much. You can't live without me. You need me to show you your blood so you know you're alive, isn't that right Hunter.?

No...

Yes it is. Don't deny it Hunter. Don't deny me. Use me. You know you want me. You know you want the pain. You know you want to see the blood again.

Okay...

I sat down in the bottom of the shower, and let the water run over me again. But this time, this time was different. The water wasn't just running over my scars. It was running over fresh cuts.The water stung the raw skin, but it felt so good. I closed my eyes and ran the blade over my arms again and again. I loved it. My mind raced. My heart pounded. I felt so alive. That's what I needed. To feel alive again. I missed when I knew for a fact this wasn't a dream. I missed everything I had so much...