Save Me

Chapter Two

I wake up slowly, my body aching. I am relieved by the fact that I can almost breathe normally again. Almost. Everything still hurts, but at least it doesn't feel like there's a bus sitting on my chest, squeezing all of the air out.

My head rolls to the side and I see the clock on the oven. 8:36. Shit. I am so gonna be late for school.

I take my time getting up while grunting and hissing in pain. Every slight movement causes a new throbbing pain to collapse onto me.

When I'm finally in a standing position, I slowly zombie walk up the stairs.

My heart speeds up when I see his bedroom door. I have to remind myself that he's probably at work. But my heart refuses to slow down until I'm inside the safety of the bathroom. I lock the door out of habit and begin to get ready for school.

I gently wash my face trying my best to avoid the ugly bruise on the majority of my face.

I stand in front of the mirror and just stare at myself. Half of my face is a mix of purple and black. It's not the best look. If I had any makeup then I would be layering as much on as possible, but my father forbids any form of makeup. Probably because I look older, more like my mom did.

Good thing no one even notices me at school. I'm like a ghost to those people. I can't count the number of times that I have gone to school limping or obviously hurt but no one has noticed. Which is funny because I have my father's attention twenty-four-seven. Yay, good for me, I think dryly.

I lift my shirt and see similar bruises covering my chest and stomach. I sigh and get dressed. No point in dwelling on what's already been done.

Making lunch, nor eating breakfast even enters my mind as I exit the house. My father keeps the fridge and cupboards locked so that I don't 'steal his food.' He gives me food once a day for dinner though, so that I don't starve to death. 

Don't be fooled, it is not out of the generosity in his cold black heart but the fact that he doesn't want me dead. His sole purpose is to make my life as horrible as it can possibly be and I can't be miserable if I'm dead. Good for him, he's already succeeded.

Sometimes I wonder why I don't just kill myself. But I have to keep on fighting. I will not give the bastard what he wants. To break me. To see all the light leave my eyes, because he rang it all out of me as easily as ringing out a cloth.

Believe it or not, he was a good dad, until she died. He used to play all kinds of games with me and take me and my brother out to the park. He woke up nice and early on weekends so that he could make us all breakfast in bed. I thought I was breaking the law when he would let me have a sip of his coffee. My mom would still be in bed with her breakfast and me, my father and Ben would all be waiting in the family room watching TV. He would be sitting with his black coffee and me and Ben with our orange juice. He would clear his throat and crook his finger at me, signaling me to go over. I would happily skip over and he would whisper in my ear, "Don't tell your mother." He then would hand me his coffee and let me take a sip. That used to be my favorite thing ever. I hated the taste but loved the feeling. It would make me feel so grown up and special. Ben never got any, and that secretly made me happy. Then she died and he became a cold, heartless monster.

The air is cold and the wind seems to cut right into my hoodie, making me shiver. The sky is dark and gloomy, with clouds that seem to be rolling in like an army charging into battle. Slight trickles of rain land on my face. Puddles cover the ground. Huh, I didn't hear any rain last night. I was probably passed out at the time.

After an hour or so of agonizing walking, I reach the school property. After my mom and brother died, my father couldn't stand to live in that house anymore, so we moved. He didn't want to deal with all the paperwork and stuff so he didn't notify the school or sign me up for the bus, therefore I walk around an hour to and from school each day.