She Said Goodbye

Broken Wings

"DAD"

     Jumping out of bed, the word remained in my head. "Dad" I walked into the bathroom and splashed my face with cold water, examining myself in the mirror I noticed my eyes were clearing up, no more dark circles. Probably from where I've slept so much waiting on dad to wake up. It's been 2 weeks and his heart rate seems to just be fading. I didn't want to lose him, not yet anyways. I know he's horrible, in more than just a few ways, but he's still my dad, the only biological parent I have left, I don't want to give that up yet. I don't want to be an orphan. Stripping and stepping into the shower I notice the bruises along my forearm, from where he once dragged me out of my bed and onto the floor, continuing to beat me. I wince at the memory, but I quickly wash it away with the memories of moms grave. I wonder if I could remember where it was, and if I had the guts to use dads gas and drive there again. I examine my legs, they're pale but they're not as bruised up as my arms. Stepping out of the shower and drying off quickly, I run to my room and grab the big box that I had hidden under my clothes in the closet, marked "Summer". I opened it up and pulled out dark blue denim shorts that went up to my bellybutton, strapping it on with a belt. They stopped a little above mid-thigh, pulling them on I rummage though the remnants of the box to find a short sleeve crop top with palm trees all over it, and I loved it. I threw it on and went back into the bathroom. Checking myself out, I figured it was okay enough. I was well over skinny enough to wear it, I might even have enough room for another half me in it. I decided today was my day. Grabbing the one pair of sandals I still have I walked out my room, shutting off the dimmed lights as I passed the switch. Then walked into the kitchen.

      Making me a small portion of eggs and bacon I had found in the corner of the fridge, I set about eating and doing my hair. Throwing it up in a half bun I walked into dads room and turned right, where straight ahead was his bathroom. AKA mom's old playroom. He hasn't been in here since she died, so all of her stuff is still laying around, as if she had frantically left. Dusty but good, I plugged in the hair straighter, and turning to the closet of wonders, I opened the door. All of her makeup was sitting neatly inside, rows and rows, neatly divided by columns of mascara, lipstick, eyeliner, blushes, eye shadows, and hair accessories. Grabbing a fat red tube of mascara, a thin tub of brown eyeliner and a small capsule looking thing of a light pink lipstick, I walked back to the hair straitner. Dividing my hair into two sections - one on the top of my head in a hair tie and the other falling down my back - I manage to pick up the straitner and get to work on my bottom half. Finishing that, I pull down the top layer and start. When I was done, I gave it a once-over. Pulling part of my bangs to the right side of my head, I gave myself a cowlick slightly to the right and set about on my makeup. Doing my mascara first, I was wobbley the first eye, so I ended up stabbing myself, making my eye water to all hells ends. Cleaning that little mess up, I finished my mascara, and started about on my eyeliner. Now  it's not perfect, but it'll do for now. A thin line of eyeliner close to my eyelash line on my eyelids were amazing, and I didnt get it. Applying the lipstick I look at myself one more time before smiling. I've never wore makeup, so I never really thought about how I'd look. Truthfully I thought I did a pretty good job. Grabbing the keys off of the counter on my way out, I walked to the car, and started towards the hospital.