All My Ghosts

TWO

VIVIENNES POV

"VIVIENNE!" my mother screams from the kitchen, downstairs.

My short , tan, brunette mother stands at the kitchen stove making dinner. It's spaghetti and meatballs tonight.

The smell floods my nose as I basically float downstairs at the sweet smell.

My mother has a habit of cooking too early, and too much. It's about 4pm and she's already almost done with dinner which could feed a whole 3rd world country.

"mom I wish I could stay but I have to g-" I apologize to her before I'm cut off, my father walking into the room.

My father is a tall, big man. He's not fat , but he's big. Not the type of guy you'd wanna mess with. He's getting older now, more forgetful, always lashing out.

"you aren't going anywhere. You will eat with your parents and brother like a family." He says with a stern voice , his brows furrowed and his lips curved into an angry frown

I swallowed the lump in my throat and took a deep breath. It always took a lot for me to stand up to my dad, just because he made me feel so vulnerable, so weak, powerless even.

"Dad I have a class." I spit out

I'm almost done with college. I'm majoring in forensic psychology and minoring in criminology. My dream has always been to be an fbi agent. I'm great at profiling people, phenomenal even. I can catch a lie even before you've thought of it. It's kind of like my superpower. I can tell what a person is thinking about or what color their socks is just by looking at them.

I guess this dream stemmed from my childhood, I wanna help kids that feel powerless, that have no choice. I wanna help them get out, just because I couldn't doesn't mean they can't.

My dad's face gets even angrier, I can tell he'd been drinking.

"Get upstairs." He slurs, grabbing onto the banister.

When he gets like this, it's like time pauses. My mother pretends she doesn't see anything , and I try to hide this mess from my brother as best as possible. As much as I love my mother, I feel a deep hatred for her and the fact that she didn't save me. She didn't save me from him, I was a little girl.

"No dad please wait" I plead, my thick brown hair falling down my back, revealing my neck.

My father's eyes then lower down to my throat, examining my neck , his anger growing with the second.

"you didn't fucking cover that up?" He whispers while grabbing my arm aggressively

My hand falls to my neck, covering the sensitive bruises that cover it. A faint handprint plastered onto me, black and blues fading into yellows.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I forgot I'll go do it please just don't-" I plead to my father before he cuts me off

"Go cover that the fuck up and stay in your goddamn room vivienne."

I stay silent for a second, my eyes making their way to my mother who is humming in the kitchen, stirring sauce into her pasta.

Then at my brother , sitting on the couch with his headset on playing video games with his friends online.

I feel like a ghost. Why can't they see me? Why? why don't they notice me? Why don't they notice what's been happening my entire life?

A tear falls from my cheek , I want to scream. I wanna run, I wanna punch him square in the face.

But I don't.

I know if I protest it will just me worse for me in the long run. The sad truth.

I make my way upstairs, the steps creaking with every step. the carpet feels nice between my feet, the air feels cold. I'm trying to focus on anything else than the present.

I'm 24 years old and I can't leave. I'm stuck in this dollhouse. I'm stuck with my father, forever. No one is coming to save me, I can't overpower him.

I'm sure I could be an fbi profiler, if I could get out of this place.

I slowly make my way to my room, opening my door. My room was once my safe place, a place all to my own. But he ruined that. He ruined me, I'm broken. I'm a broken person, he cracked me in two , then four, then six , and so on.

i step inside my room and sit at my desk, looking into the mirror.

Bruises cover my neck from how hard he choked me about two days ago. I don't even remember what I did.

I start to cry as I trace my fingers around it, the tears falling one after the other, my breath getting shallow and my face growing red.

I'm pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Why do i let this happen to me, because I'm scared? This has gone on too long. I can't stay here forever, I don't think I can do it.

My thought pauses as he walks into my room, not wasting any time.

He walks up to me and grabs the root of my hair on the back of my head so tightly that I can't move my Face. Leaning his face into mine he whispers

"You know the rules vivienne. No one knows. You don't think people are gonna fucking know if you have a fucking handprint on your neck? You're fucking pathetic." He whispers, his breath reading of alcohol

"I- I'm sorry dad please." Is the only thing I can choke out without sobbing.

Before I'm finished speaking he unbuckles his belt. These are the moments in my dark, twisted life where I feel most alone.

Before I can cry, shout, or protest. He decides he doesn't care for it. He takes his dominant arm and punches me across the face, knocking me unconscious.

I don't remember the contents of the night after that, but I'm not sure that I really want to.