I will break you

Five

I dreamt that I was back at home. I must have been around seven in the dream, Ginny was around nine. We were running down the stairs to a heavenly aroma of fresh waffles, and Mum was placing them down in front of us. She tucked my hair behind my ear and stroked my head for a while, before going off to do some household chore or other. Dad was sat there, his feet propped up on the table like Mum had told him so many times not to do, and he was watching sports noisily on his phone. Then I woke up. I woke up to the childish bed sheets and in Julia's body. The blood had thankfully been cleaned up by Beth and Hillary at some point. I think it's safe to say that Dad hadn't been too happy after our little incident a couple of nights ago. I hadn't seen his son ever since. I jump out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom, stripping off my clothes and stepping into a scalding shower. The homesickness is still there with me in every waking hour, and I am still scared stiff that I won't see tomorrow morning, but all of it has kind of numbed into this horrible feeling of hopelessness, like there is no point to my existence anymore. I take daily showers every morning, being in the clothes that he provided, the bedsheets that he provided, and even the furniture that he provided makes me feel grubby, like I have a sheen of filth over my skin. I now know what is behind each door, three of the rooms are obviously our bedrooms, one is the kitchen and dining room (and also the locked exit), one is the bathroom and the mystery room is what Beth and Hillary call the leisure room. It is decorated in the same floral wallpaper as the hallway, is pink carpeted and has a cream coloured sofa. There is an ancient looking television propped on a table, a box of knitting supplies and a drawer full of jigsaw puzzles. Basically just stuff to stop us from completely losing our minds. I step out of the shower, skin pink and stinging. I slip into my clothes, which all seem to be awfully outdated. Today it is a two piece pink cardigan set with a white blouse and a pink bow to tie around my neck. The material feels like sandpaper on my scalded skin. Soon enough, me, Beth and Hillary are all sat at our designated seats in the kitchen, anticipating Dad's arrival. Footsteps coming down the stairs. A large slam. My heart lifts as I think of the prospect of him falling down the stairs to his death. But it's not him. It is a girl.