Chim - Every Mark On My Body

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I wake from another blissful dream to the splitting shriek of me alarm clock. I subconciously stick out an arm and swat it until the noise subsides. And then I remember me conversation with Kimberley, a broad grin sneaking its way onto me face. We had talked all through the night until eventually she had falllen asleep on me, and all I could hear through the phone was her gentle snoring. The smile is well and truly plastered onto me face now, and I roll over onto me back. I had completely forgotten about what had happened before the phonecall, but was soon reminded as I grimaced in pain at the movement having to sharply bite me lip to stop from crying out. Me hand flies to me ribs, holding them as they feel like they're gonna burst out me skin. Getting to college today was going to be a mission.

I dread to think what I look like. I can't remember what happened specifically. I can't remeber how I managed to drag me broken body into bed. All I can see in me mind is his fat, leering face inches away from mine. He headbutted me, I know that much. And he obviously did me ribs and stomach some damage from the way they are hurting. And one of me eyes was currently refusing to open. Great. I gingerley sit up, gasping as I do so. I shuffle slowly to the edge of the bed, and place me cold feet on the wearing carpet. I put a hand on me side table and push meself up, using all the will power in the world to not scream at that painful moment. I can't let him hear how much I am hurting. I won't give him the satisfaction. I drag meself to the door, clutching onto any available sturdy object. I get there and I slowly edge it open, peernig out to check I am alone. I am, and I pull the door fully open now, stepping out onto the cool hallway and supporting meself into the bathroom. I shut the door behind us and lock it. I turn to face the mirror.

Whatever I had expected, it wasn't this bad. I knew I couldn't remember what he'd done, but it had never ended up like this. He was always careful to hit us where it wouldn't show. Where the bruises would stay hidden, and therefore so would I. So would he. Anyone noticing would cause him too much aggro. So what had happened? Had he just lost control? Or was he getting worse completely? Beggining not to care at all about who saw and what they thought? Not caring whether he would get in trouble. Or was he just getting more and more dependant on those god damned drugs? So much so that missing just one fix could push him right off the edge from a mile away? Questions, confusion, hurt and anger swimming round me head, I grab onto the sink for support. I take a deep, shakey breath and look up into the mirror again.

Me right eye is swollen shut, a deep purple and blue circle already swirling around it - making me look like some sort of blueberry muffin. Me good eye, though, is drawn to me lips. They are covered in the tonic of the vampires, half resembling the joker and his badly applied lipstick. I can make out that the copper dried blood was produced from a long cut in the centre of me bottom lip. And me eyes flit up, focusing on a point just below me hairline. A gash, the length of a pen lid adorns me forehead, a small bruise beggining to form around it like a 20 pence piece, covered in dried blood. That must've been where he knocked us out. Headbutted us. I feel sick.

I grab a flannel from the side and hold it under the warm tap for a second. And I slowly lift it up to me mouth. I start with me unharmed top lip, wiping away the evidence. Then I move cautiously down over me bottom lip, flinching as the flannel comes into contact with the cut. But I continue. I slowly wash until the blood is gone. I rise the flannel through. And then I start the same careful process on me head until there are no remnants of ruby death left across me features.

I flick the shower on. Thankfully he hasn't surfaced yet from his pit, so there is still plenty of hot water left. I leave it running, waiting for it to warm up. And I begin to gingerley peel off me clothes. I start with me shirt. And its only now that I realise I slept in the clothes I wore yesterday. I start to unbutton me shirt, slowly, button by button, afraid of what lays underneath. I let it slide off me shoulders and I take another deep breath and look down at meself. What I expected. My torso is covered in angry red and purple blotches. Swollen. Incriminating. I wrench me eyes away. I feel queasy again.