Poisoned mind

Chapter two

As soon as I open the door I can smell alcohol.
One..two...three...four... Five
Hands grab me.
I feel blood running as the plastered wall cracks with the force of my skull.
Shame, thought he didn't want a single stain on his 'newly painted' walls.
That was utter rubbish. It had been nearly a year since he got up and actually painted the stairway. Apparently because he finally painted the walls that makes me lazy. With all the things I do apparently I should've made time to paint the walls.
In a normal family home marking the walls wouldn't matter. But not in this house.

I can feel my thoughts slipping away, like when we drink the poison at a house party, or when we inhale the fumes of the 'medicine' that helps us forget.
I like that feeling.
I can finally let go and stop restraining.
My focus is drawn to the melodic beats off the blood dripping.
He lets go.
The body in which I'm trapped, falls slowly to the cold ground.
Blurred images bounce before my eyes.
I can see figures.
People maybe?
Maybe just a wolf with its prey.

I hear distant shouting as she tries to fight him, to help me.
But she is too weak.
She's always been to weak.
I remember feeling pity, but how do we empathise with the ones to afraid to look after their own blood born. Men come and go but children? Children never go.
I didn't ask to be born. I didn't want to be born. If he had a daughter he would be fine. He would be happy.
Or at least if he had a normal son. He would be happy.
As the dots begin to lurk close he turns.
I let myself smile, maybe it's the blood loss but I feel relieved.
At least I won't be awake for the rest.