Ichigo's POV
I tossed and turned as the image remained clear in my head. Disaster was one word that could properly describe it. The livingroom was in shambles, and I was on the floor. The couch that once stood on its legs was laying on it's side to the right of me. The cushions on the couch were ripped to shreds and tossed far away from the couch that they were once attached to. Glass was all over the floor as were cups and plates that didn't quite break when they hit the floor. Terrified, I scrambled to my feet and stumbled to the door. I grabbed the door knob with shaky hands as I struggled to get it open. My mind was foggy as fear had clouded my head. The only thought in my mind was getting out as fast as I could. Before he got home. After mindlessly fumbling with the door knob, I managed to get it open in my shaken up state. Out the door I went runninf as fast as I could. All I dreamed about in this moment was a safe escape. This was the last straw. I couldn't do this anymore. Tears streamed down my face, clouding my vision as I ran into the deep dark if the night. I ran as long as my weak, shaken, and beaten up legs would take me. After about twenty minutes of straight running. I finally crashed to my knees. Weakly, I pushed myself up against a brick wall and slowly dragged my knees up to my chest. I felt my heart rapidly beating, and my breaths were uneven. Heavy gasp for air followed by small ones. I clenched at my aching chest as thick salty tears ran down my face. My sobs were quiet and no matter how hard I tried to keep them back, they began to get louder as the images back in my now completely shattered mind. The fist that flew at my face. The glass that was shattered all over my back. The way his face was distorted with uncontrollable rage. It all flashed so quickly in my mind. But despite how fast the images moved, they were still in distinct detail.
I remembered everything.
My sobs turned to screams as my mind went to shambles. I held my hands to my head with a rough grasp to my hair. Pulling and screaming as the scenes from the previous hours taunted me in my head.
"I can't take this anymore..." I mumbled to myself as my breathing rapidly sped up, then drastically fell again.
~~~~~~
It was now morning, and my throat was dry and hoarse from all the screams and crying. I forced open my heavy eyelids to see I was in an unfamiliar bed. My mind started racing as I thought about every possible person this house could belong to.
My abusive father.
My abusive ex.
Or even maybe my abusive cousin.
I took a hard long glance at the room I was in to see if anything would click to me.
It didn't.
Taking another glance around the room again, just to see if I could find something, anything that would help me identify where I was.
Still nothing
My palms began to sweat as I thought about how high the chances were that he had found me after I ran off. Fear clouded my mond again as I slipped into that state of panic again. I stepped clumsly out of the bed. Making my way quietly and carefully to the door. I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I thought about what was going to happen again.
The fist.
The glass breaking on my bare, already scared back.
And that face of uncontrollable rage that I feared so much.
Finally I opened the door. And what I saw, wasn't what I expected at all.
