Fracture

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

*TW: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, SELF HARM AND SUICIDE*

❊-♡︎Scarlett♡︎-❊

Life was great.

Patrick and I were doing amazing and I was getting more comfortable with sex and my body.

I hadn't cut in nearly a month and I was starting to feel like a normal person for the first time in my life.

It was like Patrick flipped a light on.
I was just hoping the light wouldn't go out.

I threw on my shoes, preparing for a date with Patrick, before I jogged down the stairs.

But I quickly froze in place at the sight of my brother in a cowboy hat and jocks.

What the in world.
I chuckled, shaking my head at his shenanigans.

However, my laughter shifted to concern when I saw my brother frozen with his hand on the front door knob, his face looking as if he'd seen a ghost.

Stepping off the last stair, I approached my brother, turning my gaze to what he was looking at.

When my eyes landed on my stepbrother my blood ran cold.

"Gibs? Scarlett? Is that you?" Mam appeared in the kitchen door way, with a bright smile on her face, "Look who flew in a week early from Mumbai to surprise us!"

"You're back," Gerard spoke, while I remained unmoving.

My stomach was churning and I felt as though I might faint. I couldn't handle this.

Not now.
Not when my life was finally turning around.

"I'm back," My stepbrother spoke, crossing his arms over his chest.

Then my step father appeared behind mam, with a stack of photos in his hands.

"Look you two, take a look at this beauty," He said thrusting the photo in Gerard and I's faces, "This is Marks wife, Meera, and their son, Yash."

I peeked at the picture, my eyes landing on a petite Asian woman with a toddler on her hip.

Mark had a child.
And a wife.

How dare he have a child.
How dare he have a life.

He should be in prison.
Or worse, dead.

"Mark's been offered an overseas transfer with work. He and Meera are considering a permanent relocation," Mam beamed, wrapping an arm around Mark, "Isn't it amazing?"

I felt the ground crumble beneath me, and my world ending.

He couldn't be moving back.
I couldn't face seeing him everyday.

"Relocation?" Gerard asked, his voice wobbling slightly.

"That's right, son," Keith nodded, "The whole family will be back together soon."

"I need to go," I managed to force out, pushing past Gerard and reaching for the door knob.

"Why? We were all going to have a nice dinner as a family," Mam frowned.

"I-," I choked on a sob, "It's Shan, I need to pick up a textbook from her."

I quickly pulled open the front door before my mam could give me a response.

Choking on air, I made it two steps down the driveway before doubling over and emptying the contents of my stomach.

Why was he here?
Why did he come back after six years of being gone.

This wasn't fair.
None of this was fair.

I was happy.
I was just getting my life together.

Why now?
Why now?

Hot tears stung my eyes and trickled down my cheeks, as I continued to vomit into the bushes.

"Scar? Baby?" Patrick's voice came from behind me, his hand immediately going to my back, making me flinch.

When I finally stopping throwing up, I wiped my mouth and forced myself to look at him.

"Are you okay? What is going on?" Patrick's face was full of worry.

I couldn't explain.
I wanted everything gone.

I wanted to be gone.

"I just," I swallowed hard, "I can't do this."

And with that, I spun on my heels and took off in a sprint down the road.

Leaving Patrick in my driveway, with a look of pure horror on his face.

I didn't know where I was running, I just knew I needed to keep going. I couldn't stop, not even when my lungs burned and legs turned to jelly.

I didn't care it was dark, and that I was alone with no phone.

For all I cared, someone could stab me and put me out of my misery.

When I finally stopped running, I took a seat on a curb. Breathing heavily, I looked at the houses that littered the street I was on.

I could only imagine the lives of the people inside, I'm sure they were all normal.

None of them watched their dad and sister die at five years old.
None of them were raped by their stepbrother at six years old.

This was my life.
A life that I was starting to doubt was worth living.

I eventually made my way back home, and entered the house, when I was certain everyone would be sleeping.

I quietly crept to my room and locked the door behind me.

The lock I forced my mother to get me when I turned eleven.

Because I was afraid Mark would return and hurt me again.

Feeling more helpless than I did at six years old, I did the only thing I could think of. I opened the bottom drawer in my nightstand and retrieved my blade.

Sitting with my back to my bedroom door, I dug the blade into my wrist, deeper than I ever had before.

So deep I thought I might not wake up in the morning.

And part of me wished I wouldn't.

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now you know why act two is called the twist of fate.

on a real note, this chapter deals with serious topics and if you are struggling please don't hesitate to reach out or call: 988

i love you all so much, truly

xoxo

-F