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TW: mentions blood, vomit, and abuse (narrative)
3rd Person
"You stupid bitch! Are you fucking useless?"
"I tried really hard dad! I scored 4 goals!"
"Well, tell that to THEIR 5 GOALS! YOU ARE SO PATHETIC RYLEE,"
"An utter regret is what is she is,"
"Stay out of this Kelli! Nobody here even likes you!"
smash!
RYLEE HANSON (16)
I wake up on the floor in a pool of my own blood. I must have passed out after the vase collided with my head. I tried to sit up but I couldn't move my body. Definitely not the worst that's ever happened but it's still disappointing it happens.
But, I can't blame my dad, he's just grieving for mom...and his way of showing is by taking it out on me.
"Rylee? Blake! Call 911! Rylees bad this time!" My sister sobbed as she pulled my head into her lap. She softly stroked my hair trying to keep calm.
"What excuse are we using this time," I chuckled, trying to bring light into our situation.
"No more excuses Ry-Ty, this has gone too far," My twin sister voice was rough.
"No, it could be worse. I'm not letting us go away. Not ever. I'm okay Andy. Just a couple scratches," I spoke softly, trying to sway her way of thinking.
"Ry-"
"No. We're saying a glass fell on my head while cleaning the kitchen. Help me up please. We need to clean up the floor," Andy hesitated but quickly helped me up.
"They're on their way Andy!" Blake came running back in the room and I immediately filled him in.
I slowly made my way to the kitchen and began wetting a cloth for the back and side of my head. Kelli and dad were no were to be found.
While I was busy fixing myself up, Andy and Blake worked on setting the scene. They began cleaning the glass and moving it into the kitchen where I was.
Then, I felt a strong, deep urge to throw up. And that's exactly what I did. I emptied everything I had eaten in the past day right into the sink.
"Ry-Ty?" My younger brothers voice echoed my mind as my body buckled down and I crumbled to the floor, curled up in a fetal position, begging for everything to stop...
