Holding On To Life

Spilling My Guts

The next day I wake up to the loud annoying beeping of my alarm clock. As I get out of bed I get this throbbing, pounding sound in my head, ugh, I hate head aches. I stumble downstairs and take some I-bprofen. Then get ready for school. My dad's already gone ... thank-god.

Today was better than the day before well it was, until 5th hour. I was in class when it happened my sleeve got caught on something. Then when I went to move my arm my sleeve got pulled back exposing my arm and one of the other girls in class saw. I quickly and self conciously pulled my sleeve down as fast as I could covering my bloody, cut, scarred, and bruised arm. I looked at her to see her expression. Her mouth was dropped open and her face full of terror and worries. I looked away. Butterflkes in my tummy and my heart pounding against my chest.

Later that day I was called down to the office. I pinched my sleeves and the end of my hoodie with my fingers as I sat in the office waiting for her to call me into her little cubby hole. I see her open the door, tall, bronette, and straight faced. She looks up at me then holds up her hand and moves her index finger in the gesture that meant, come her.

I walk in and take my seat. "Tiffany Karen Rose, 9th grade right?" I nod forgetting your not looking at me and mumble "mmh hmm". You turn to face me and ask "Do you know why your here?" I nod then shrug. Then you ask me "then tell me. Why, why do you do it?" I look down and whisper ever so quietly but still loud enough for her to hear, "reasons. My dad. People at this school. Other people." I hold back the tears. You start talking. I start to zone out.

I can't concentrate, so many thoughts flooding my mind. Your voice becomes a muffled whisper. I'm still looking down staring at my feet as they swing underneath me left forwards, right backwards, then the other way around, left backwards, right forwards. I hadn't noticed that at some point I had tucked my hands under my thighs. Then I look up meeting your eyes for only a second. Then look out the window. In that fraction of a second I got so much from you. Your eyebrows were arched in a way that made your forehead wrinkled, arched in a way that told me you were worried but you also looked so calm like this wasn't a first time you had to deal with this.

"Mother." I snap out of it, "what?!?" I ask my voice scratchy. I clear my throat. "Did you just say mother?" "Yes I said I should call your father or mother." "No!" I pratically yelled "not my dad." She looked at me curiously, surprised, and worried. "Why not?" Her voice full of concern, her voice soft and smooth. I look down and think to myself, I guess its time I spill my guts. "He abuses me." I quietly tell you, my words clogging my throat, and my hands dead cold. I look up at you to see your reaction. I hadn't noticed that you had scooted to the edge of your seat. You lean back, your face full of thought, crossed your legs, and entwined your fingers in a prayer like way in your lap. You nodded slowly and said with your head slightly tilted "what about your mom?" "She left, her and dad got devorced, I stayed and my sister and mom left." You turn to face your computer and type a few things then say "Well I have to contact someone." I nod "ok but not my dad." "Ok." "But I do have to call and tell the authorities about your dad."

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Plz comment, I'm curious to hear what you thought of this chapter and I'm curious if you have any ideas to help me.