Breaking Free

Coming Home

Noah got a Mercedes Benz for his 16th birthday. We both did. Our parents are loaded, not that it makes our life any better. We drive home together, with me taking the passenger seat and him taking the wheel. We talk about what we have to do when we get home, and blare music. It's some of the only freedom we get. Our curfew is 9:30.. And we're in 10th grade. I turn down the volume a notch. "Hey!" Noah yells. I roll my eyes. "It's important, I swear." He sighs reluctantly. "Whatever. Go ahead." I take a deep breath. It always takes a lot of energy to talk about what we'll do when we get home

"We have to deep clean when we get home. I'll take dishes and kitchen if you take living room, and then we can make dinner. Please don't undercook the chicken this time." I plead. Noah nods. "I'll try. Sounds fair, and why does it matter? We don't eat it, and you're not the one who gets their ass kicked for it. If you hate it so much, why don't you just make it?" I roll my eyes yet again and shake my head. "You know, this is actually what they want us to do. Tear us apart. And you don't have to be the one who takes the beatings. I'm all for a good black eye." Noah keeps his eyes focused on the road. "I know, I know. Sorry. And I just feel protective." I smile a little. I know he comes from a good place.

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We pull up to our gated driveway, and I roll down my window and punch in the code. 42432. I know it by heart. The gates grind open and Noah rolls in carefully. I run a few steps up our driveway to see if mom is home. I have to, with how long it is. Luckily, she's not. We stroll up to the door and drop in, chatting  about our day. "Okay. I'll start dishes." I say. "Alright. I'll do living room, like we discussed." I begin to load up the dishwasher. We were absent mindlessly cleaning, with little bits of small talk here and there when a door busted open. I can hear our dad slurring and yelling already. I look around the partition separating the living room and the kitchen. (A/N: if you don't know what I mean it's kinda like this: the link was really long so I made it a bit.ly one http://bit.ly/1iYrUdB) Noah has stopped completely, duster in his hand. I hear our dad stomp to the living room. I step so I'm right in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Listen here you piece of shit. Your mother is expecting a clean house and prepared dinner. Do you know how hard she works all day?" he spits. Noah nods. He has learned to zone out during these rants, but look alert enough so that way Dad doesn't get even more mad. He turns to me. "And you. Stop standing around and get something done. You're pathetic." I stand there, spacing out. "Go!" I scramble away to the kitchen stove. I hear Dad yelling again, but I blank out. I hear the sound of a bottle breaking. My eyes widen. I see Noah holding his hand on his head, blood leaking out of his head. Pieces of glass surround him. Dad gives him a kick with his boots and leaves him there.

I wait for him to go downstairs to his man cave and shut the door. Noah groans. "I'm fine, Ava, really. Go clean, mom's gonna be home soon." I shake my head. "You're not though. Hold on." I dash to grab the extra gauze I keep in my backpack- for "sports". I wrap it around his head as the red seeps through the cloth. I sigh and sit down next to him. Noah weakly sat up, groaning. "I-I  see mom's car in the driveway. Here, help me up. I gotta- I gotta go cle..." He passes out. Crap, I think. I can't call 911, I'll get hit so hard. I don't know what to do. Noah's breathing- barely.

I pick him up, putting him in his bedroom and barricading it off with his desk. I don't really want to leave him alone, but I have to go to Lilly's to get him help. Lilly and her brother Evan are our best friends- and our next door neighbors. We've been friends since forever, and they're the only ones that knows about our abuse. I know Lilly's  home alone right now, and she doesn't snitch, even though I know she really wants to. I sit Noah upright against the wall and open the window. We used to have screens.. Till I cut them out with a Swiss Army knife. 

I spill out of the window. Ouch. I'm not faltered by the pain though. A wimpy little bush can't deter me, I've been through 20 times worse. I run, no- sprint to Lilly's. I knock on her door furiously, and I can see her get up from the couch through her peephole. She stares back through it and opens up the door. "What's up?" she says casually. "Lilly.. Noah passed out. Dad cracked a beer bottle on his head, he's bleeding really bad and he's breathing now but.. I'm scared. I can't call 911. I wrapped his head but he's out right now." Lilly sighs. "Alright. I have to run in and grab my mom's emergency nursing kit, but it'll take only a second." Lilly sprints back in her house and grabs the kit. Again, we run to Noah's bedroom window and scale the house, and I roll in first. Noah's breathing has become more harsh, less steady.

Lilly curses a little. She takes the cloth out of the kit and applies pressure. "It's not that deep- don't worry. Just lots of blood, no sunken areas, no serious injury. Just loooots of blood." Lilly says, groaning. "Pressure should make it stop. I'll wake him up." She shakes his shoulders and Noah's eyes snap open. "What.. where.. what happened?" I scoot over to him. "Dad cracked a bottle over your head. You're good though, it was bleeding pretty bad. But Lilly cleaned you up." He cracks a little smile in her direction. They wouldn't admit it, but they're a borderline couple. 

Mom and Dad are downstairs, so we speak in hushed tones. I usher Lilly out and Noah gets back up. "I vote we stay up here till they call us." he says. I nod. "Sounds like a plan."