Affections

{5}

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Myra's eyes fluttered open, adjusted to the dark dawn to arise. Curled up on the living room floor, just as the images said.

She felt no pain, completely lifeless, so she did at this silent moment. Her eyes darted to the window, the fading blue light shone through the window. She focused on the light, swallowing the ache in her throat to cry.

Still, with no movements and no pain, cuts, and wounds decorated her skin. A single tear could not be caged as it slipped down her eyes, she swallowed repeatedly. Her blonde hair covered her arms.

The building, which housed people, was quite like a shipwreck. The sky dark and the only comfort to her aching her.

She remembers her promise to Beatrice. She had to get to school, she would appear as a hoodie girl.

Slowly, she lifted her numb body. She stood glancing at her blood-stained hand, down to the floor, to see her mother unconscious on the floor. Able to make out the figure.

Stop! Please stop
You're hurting my baby!!

Miranda
"Mom" I whispered in pent-up agony, crawling up to her body. She shuffled, careful not to hurt herself. She stood with my help, her belly heavy on her. She must have fainted yesterday, I'm glad she is unhurt.

Tears welled up in her eyes when she glanced at me. She lifted her hand and traced the marks on my cheek. I felt empty, sinking into her touch. Tears after tears came down her cheeks like raindrops.

At least she had tears; I have none. It occurred to me, "When last did you have a check-up, Mom?"

She shook her head, unable to control the tears.

"That doesn't matter," I swallowed, "It does, this isn't safe, you should have put to bed by now."

She struggled herself up, searching for her phone in the fair dark. She found meters away from where she slumped. "I'm calling the police; we are dwelling with psychos," She whispered in fright.

I would have chuckled if the nightmare weren't real, but it is. It was real when my father left. It was real when we moved in here. It is still real.

The voice on the other end said, "This is 911, what's your emergency." My mother clasped her hand over her mouth, subbing.

"Domestic violence, please help us, my...my daughter...almost...bitten to death!" She screamed subtly so as not to be heard. The person on the other end uttering consoling words. The address was given and the call ended.

I'm positive I looked lifeless. She jerked me with her hands, "Go, my daughter, get out of here."

I went up the stairs, stripped my clothes, and washed up. The urge to leave the waters' warmth was not there. I sat in the bathtub full of water and stared into space I didn't know existed.

I gazed out the window, into the blue morning, dark and comforting it was. Not wanting to be here to see the change but at school. I got up, cleaned my shoes, and put on a loose blue gown with in-depth pockets. For the sake of freedom. I looked like a girl, adorned by her parents, yet that wasn't my reality. I faintly saw my image in the room window; I didn't have a mirror.

With the reflection, I brushed through my blonde hair, my heart heavy; I believed it would explode in a matter of time.

Tears glistened in my eyes, but not enough to pull my sorrows down my cheeks. I swallowed the heaviness in my throat and picked up my books along with homework undone.