Behind These Bruises...

Behind These Bruises...[Part 10]

*Back to Mila's POV*

I walked in through the front door at 11:00 pm, 30 minutes before I was due to be home. The house was dark and silent. I knew this was deceiving though. My father was still awake. He was probably watching TV in his room, a bottle of beer on his bedside table. Sure enough, as I flicked on the hallway light switch, I heard the heavy footsteps of my father walking down the carpeted wooden staircase.

"You're...back early..." he slurred. He was drunk. It was a good thing I had declined Derrek's offer to drive me home.

"Yeah..." I answered, stifling a yawn.

"Where's daaa boy?" he asked.

"He dropped me off and then left," I lied.

"I didn't...hear a carorsomething," he slurred.

"That's weird. Because he dropped me off. Were you watching TV? You probably didn't hear it," I said. Suddenly he grabbed my arm and pushed me against the wall. I winced at the tightening of his grip. His breath wreaked of alcohol and his eyes were bloodshot.

"You didn't drink or anything did you?" he hissed. I bit back my retort. Was he really accusing me of drinking when his breath dripped of alcohol?

"No. I actually left the dance really early," I said, trying to squirm out of his grip.

"That boy didn't do anything to you, did he?" he asked, his nails digging into my skin. I yelped from the pain and felt my skin breaking underneath his nails.

"No! He didn't! He was a gentleman the whole time!" I lied. He let go of my arm and then shoved me forward.

"Go to bed!" he yelled. I fell against the stairs and stumbled to my feet before he could grab me again. I took the stairs two at a time and locked myself in my room, panting. I looked down at my arm and saw thin streams of bloody flowing from where his nails dug into my skin.

I groaned and went to the bathroom before the blood could get on my dress. I washed the blood off, applied some anti-septic and the Witch Hazel, and bandaged my arm up. I could already feel a bruise forming under the wrapping. I changed out of my dress and hung it up in the back of my closet. I put on my purple and black striped pajamas and a plain black cami. I crawled underneath my covers and grabbed my iPod from under my pillow. I searched through my playlist and found a song that reflected how I felt. It was Boys Like Girls', "Learning to Fall". To it, I fell asleep.

                                                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mila! Hey!" Alisha called, walking up to me on Monday.

"Hey," I said quietly to her. I avoided her eyes.

"What's up? You didn't return any of my calls yesterday. Is everything all right? Where did you and Derrek disappear to on Saturday? Was your dad angry? Did you get home on time?" she asked rapidly. I chuckled half-heartedly.

"Wow, Leesh. 20 questions much?" I said. She narrowed her eyes at me and flicked my shoulder.

"I was worried about you!" she exclaimed.

"I was fine. Everything's fine," I lied, looking away, trying to find a distraction. The truth was, I spent the majority of Sunday wallowing in my misery. I stayed in my room the whole day, too upset to do anything. And then I felt angry at myself. Why was I getting so worked up about this? It's not like we had been dating or anything. We weren't even friends. So I spent the night feeling frustrated at myself for letting such a stupid thing get to me. I knew I would hate homecoming. It was too much drama.