Gabriel

4. Explanations

He pulled my trembling body down from the ledge and turned me around to face him. As in him. McDreamy. The guy form my dreams. The one who's not real, so I conclude this must be a dream. But as I look down as my clothes, they're the same ones I had on this morning and we're still on top of the school roof. I stand there staring into his eyes in shock. He's real.  

But this doesn't explain how he can be in my dreams.

He wipes a tear from my face and as he does so, the hair covering half my face uncovers it. He gasps, and full pulls it away. I look away. He's probably disgusted by me. I should have just jumped right when I got to the roof, yet, I feel so complete when he touches me. I close my eyes, and open them again and to my relief, it's not disgust that fills his eyes, but anger.

"Who did this to you?" He murmurs, running a thumb over my cut lip. It leaves tingles in its wake. I just shake my head. He buries his face in my neck and hugs me tightly. 

"Ah!" I involuntarily protest as he squishes my bruises ribs. He freezes. Then without a word steps back, his eyes filled with rage. He then grabs at the hem of my dress and pulls it up. My eyes widen in fear. What is he doing?

"I'm not going to hurt you, I just need to see", he says gently. I relax, realizing he's not doing anything inappropriate. But I still blush deeply. I'm wearing granny panties. Luckily, he doesn't seem to notice those or the self-harm scars on my upper thighs. I still can't stand him looking at my fat stomach. I would suck in, but the bruise would make it too painful. When the dress is lifted to my bra line, he stiffens. Then the dress drops from his hands and falls back to its place, but he just stands there emotionlessly looking at the spot where my bruises are hidden by my dress.

My eyes well up with tears and before I can stop it, a strangled sob escapes my lips. I cover my face with my hands as I sob, loudly. As I cry, he wraps his arms around me, more gently this time. 

It just finally feels real. What father has done to me for the past few years. What I've done to myself. Before, I could just lock the feelings away. In the moment I would focus on getting out unscathed or how deep the razor went. But now that someone else knows, it all comes crashing down on me. That thought makes me sob harder. We stand like that for minutes, and he just holds me. When my sobs have quieted down, he pulls back. Bending down to my short height, he takes my hands away from my face and holds them in his own.

"I'm going to ask you again: who did this to you", he says more forcefully. And it scares me. Not for myself, of course, but for what will happen to my father.

He deserves it , a little voice in the back of my head says. And I agree. What my father put me through wasn't right. I won't live with him anymore. And if I do, I won't live at all.

"When my mom left, I was ten", I start, sniffling a little bit,"he was so mad. Not even at me. Just at the world. She left because he got out of control. She started talking about our money problems, and he hit the whiskey... then he hit her. And that was it.  She just left. She didn't take me with her even when I begged. At first it was okay. He got back on the wagon for a little while and he was... nice. We even went out for ice-cream once. But then he got a little taste of alcohol again and he was addicted." I look to him, and he urges me to continue. I don't know why I'm telling him everything, except the cutting, but it feels good to have someone finally listening.

"It started out small. But by the time I was twelve, he come home at least once a week hammered and I'd get pushed around. And he'd bring these horrid women home with him. They we're awful. He'd make me cook for him and them. If it wasn't good enough, I got beat. I was used to it. A few weeks ago is when it started to get worse. Right after my seventeenth birthday. He ... he", I couldn't continue. I was shaking so hard. I tried not to think about what he did but I need someone to know. So I could know that it wasn't my fault.