Beyond The Walls

Chapter 14. Shades Of Your Blood

Aerumnous (adj)

Full of trouble

Keely's POV

A cool chill washes over my body. I wake up to a breeze coming through my window.

I look around my room, taking note of the splintered wood and tattered clothes that lay lazily across the floor.

My ears pick up on my dad banging around in the kitchen, probably pouring himself another drink or drunkenly walking around looking for a place to lie down.

I fucking hate it here.

As I pull my slightly oversized dress over my head, the sting of lingering alcohol burns my nose. I can't tell if that's my fault or his but I do know that I don't remember a time when he was sober so I'm going with the latter.

My stomach rumbles, telling me that I shouldn't wait any longer to eat. I skip as many meals as I can just so I don't have to hear the devil in my house complain.

"Kee? Kee!" My dad drunkenly babbles out my name while laying on the kitchen floor.

I guess the banging sound was really a thud and he just tried to get off the floor a few times but failed.

The gruffness of his alcohol soaked words run a chill down my spine. I carefully step over a puddle that is quickly soaking into the wood and find a cloth to wipe it up with.

"Help me up!" My dad demands.

"Dad, you need to be more careful." I tell him as I take a hold of his hand.

His fingers wrap tightly around mine, squeezing my bones. I squeal out in pain but he doesn't stop.

"Tell me what to do again and I'll throw you out," he grits angrily, "I'm the adult!"

You sure as hell ain't acting like one! I wanted to yell back, to scream in his face. I've been the one cleaning up after him for years, cooking, cleaning, working, and babying his fat, lazy, drunken ass.

My bones scream as he quickly releases me. I hold my hand up to my chest, using my good hand to massage the bones.

Squatting down, I put my arms under his arms and use very muscle in my body to help him up. My legs shake from how weak they are, I guess that's my own fault for not eating enough.

"Your mother would be so disgust-ed with you." He hiccups.

The memories of my mom laughing and brushing my hair while I make a crown of flowers tell me differently. I miss her. My dad wasn't a heavy drinker when she was alive, he was actually kind and funny.

"I'll make us some breakfast." I state, leaving him on the living room couch.

I whip together toasted bread with sliced tomatoes and an egg. He sometimes throws the food I make him against the wall. It's the worst when it's a soup that's being splattered.

Once I hand him the wooden platter, I brace myself for the lecture and a mess to clean up. The anticipation kills me until I can finally take a breath of relief as he takes a second and third bite.

We sit in silence as we eat. I wouldn't want to say anything to set him off.

Living in fear for years has probably altered my brain chemistry to the point that I may never be what others see as normal.