✰𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝✰- 𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧

✰𝟏𝟓. 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞

✰𝐌𝐚𝐲

✰𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢'𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐯:✰

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬!!!

After doing my hair and makeup I threw on some more comfortable clothes and laid in bed for the entire day. My activity of choice was bed rotting. I didn't feel like moving, my body ached and I felt sickly but I knew that was normal, I felt like that very often and wouldn't dare complain. The scratches on my body hurt and his words got under my skin worse than the aluminum beer can did. I rotted in bed occasionally, I usually wasn't allowed but if the chance was there I usually took it. I wish that I would've gotten up and left the house, finding Dally or something to occupy myself with, but I couldn't bring myself to get up. I felt paralyzed, like I was trapped in a suspenseful nightmare. I only got up one time and it was to hang my head out the window and smoke one of Dally's cigarettes. I really need to get some of my own, and another box of matches.

A knock was heard from my door and I didn't say anything in response. My dad never knocked on my door so I didn't know who it could possibly be. A part of me imagined that it was Dally and hoped that I was dreaming, but I knew there was no possible way. If he approached my doorstep I would've heard the fight between him and my dad, my dad screaming at him and then me for letting a guy know our address and letting a guy know my name even. My dad opened the door soon after and said, "Can I come in?" I was dumbfounded, what was he about to do to me? I sat up quickly and started involuntarily shaking. He walked in without me saying anything and I quickly stood up, grabbing my box of matches and a can of hairspray.

"Hey what's up with you?" He threw his hands up in a surrender position. I knew he was mocking me and making fun of my reaction in his head, maybe he would soon point at me and laugh. I don't know how he expects me to react to his "kindness" after he acts like he does. Maybe he blocks out the parts where he beats me bloody as I block out the parts of my life that I wish weren't there. He has to be more successful than I am though, because I can't forget what has happened to me, but he seems to forget ever laying a hand on me at all. I didn't believe that he was acting nice or changing at all, I knew he had malicious intent, I went into fight or flight mode as a defense mechanism.

"Nothings wrong. What do you want?" I asked him. He started looking around at my room, taking it in. He hadn't been in there for more than a few seconds in ages, he tried to get out as soon as possible when he woke me up. Probably because my room did make you feel like you were being swallowed whole, but to me the clutter was holding me tight like a hug or something, giving me the comfort that I craved so deeply.

"This thing is a mess Mariana. Clean it." He said. I pulled a match out of the box, anticipating him to pick up an item from the floor and beat me bloodily with it. "If you want to insult me then you can get out and away from me. When do you expect me to have time to clean it up when you make me work myself tirelessly? I have to sleep at some point." I told him as I came closer to him with the box of matches and can of hairspray.

"Watch your mouth. I just came to give you your car keys. You can drive the thing to work tonight. No need to get all scared. You'd think if you're that scared of everyone then those guys wouldn't have been able to get their hands all over you." He said before throwing the keys at me and slamming the door as usual, he's back to himself I guess. I cringed upon remembering what he was referring to, I don't understand how that's my fault still.

The memories were coming back to me of my moms many men using me when she wasn't available for what they wanted, one of the many curses of looking just like my mother. Well, I looked just like her before she was hooked. I hate her strong genes and wicked personality. I hate her. I hate her many men as well. I was only 13 when she got the idea in her head that I could work for their desires, and of course the trashy, drug addict men were fine with using a teenage girl for their own wants when my mom was too sick, tired, or high.