Amara

Chapter 17 - Breakfast

_________________________________

"The floor seemed wonderfully solid. It was comfortable to know I had fallen and could fall no further."

-Slyvia Plath
_________________________________

Amara's POV:

Slowly, my eyes open. Daylight pouring into the windows next to me. Like the day before, both my mind and body are in a complete state of comfort until my stupid brain decides to wake up by reminiscing about last night's events.

For me, nightmares are a common occurrence. I think it's my brain's very own version of therapy. You know how usually you go see a shrink, sit on their couch and talk about everything that has happened in your life. Well, I go to bed and do the same thing. Minus the actual therapy and learn to understand it part. Instead I just try my best to forget about it, and ignore what has actually happened in my life.

I move from my curled-up foetal position, allowing my body to stretch out. Once I regain the energy I sit up against the headboard, a long breath released from my chest. After a couple more seconds of nothingness, I lean over to the table at my bedside, grabbing my phone and checking the time. AAAANNNNDDDD... its 7:47 am. Thankfully I'm not awake at 4am, finding myself unable to fall back asleep.

I pull the covers off of my legs. A cold draft makes me regret my decision, but I don't want to stay in bed all day. I step out and head to the bathroom to have a shower. As I undress, I see a long red scratch that has formed on my left arm. It's not too deep, but it has left a small stain on my bed sheets. I hate that I can't even give my brain or body a rest from torment even in sleep.

I walk over to my bathroom, searching through all of the cabinets to see if I could find a first aid kit or some antiseptic cream, but I couldn't find anything. Eventually I give up, stripping off the clothes on my body, allowing them to drop to the floor. I reach inside the shower, turning it on and making sure that the water is the right temperature.

Before I get into under the water, I look back in the mirror. Although I still have a couple of marks on my body, I have never seen it so... empty. I'm used to bruises and blood covering my skin, almost like an ever-changing canvas. Maybe that's why I had the nightmare. Maybe my mind and body rely on pain to survive. So, instead of the pain my stepdad caused me, know it's up to me.

After the long mental battle, I step into the shower. Grateful for the shopping trip that I had, as I can finally wash my hair, and body properly. I turn the shower on, allowing the hot water to run down my skin. However, in my piece I completely forgot that scratches and water don't mix, and eventually, the water hits the exact place on my arm that I didn't want it to hit. Mother fucker!

How come you can break your arm and feel nothing? but then you get one stupid little scratch on your arm and it's like torture? Why is that?

Trying my best to ignore the pain in my arm, something that I am used to by now, I wash my hair and body. Once done, I get out of the shower, drying myself off with the fluffy cream towels. I step out of the foggy room and walk over to my closet. I pick out some of my new clothes. I go for a pair of dark brown leggings and a matching hoodie.

It's now 8:18, and I am finally ready to go downstairs. As I walk out of my room, I'm trying my best to walk through what I am going to say to Salvatore if he asks me about last night.

I know that I could tell him the truth. I know that I could sit him down and tell him the story that is my life. But to be honest, completely honest. It's embarrassing. I'm embarrassed to have that be a part of my childhood. To be a part of my life.