The Letter

Day 10

Day 10

The pain my body is feeling is like nothing I have experienced before. I try catching up to the present, trying to figure out why my cheek feels so cold. Then I realize that the coldness is actually wetness; I feel a wet cloth on my face, it stings my cheek but at the same time it feels good. It takes me a few minutes to realize someone is holding my hand. I try opening my eyes but only one is capable of doing so. The bright light hits me, making me squint; which then causes my swollen eye to hurt even more; if that’s even possible.

The pain surrounds my body; it feels like I’m intoxicated by it. It takes a couple of seconds for my eye to adjust to the light. I turn my head to see a very worried Sebastian sitting by my side. He cracks a smile and continues patting my face with the wet cloth.

I then turn my gaze to examine the room I am in, I see a large wooden desk with papers scattered over it. There’s a large bookcase on the side filled with a variety of books. In front of the bed is a large plasma TV. I keep on examining the room, taking in all the little things of the room. The oversized glass window is what draws me in. The sun comes perfectly in providing the right amount of light into the room. I can only imagine how beautiful it would be during the night.

 My eyes wander around and accidently fall on Sebastian. My hearts beats faster as he sends me a killer smile and squeezes my hand.

“I was going to take you to the hospital but you begged me not to; so I brought you to my apartment. I hope that’s fine.” He says smiling at me.

“I don’t remember you asking me that, I actually don’t remember anything after….” I don’t finish my sentence; I don’t want to give any clues that it was my father who had done this to me.

“After you ran away from your dad?” He asks with a raise eyebrow.

“What? No, actually I don’t know what happened. I was getting home and some guy just came out of nowhere...”

I hear Sebastian sigh as he gets up and walks to a door off to the side, that I didn’t see, and enters it. I hear water running and after a minute or so he comes back in, not knowing that the cloth is dripping with water.

“You don’t have to lie to me Victoria. You might not remember what you told me, but I sure do.” He says as he sits down next to me again, putting the cloth over my head.

“What did I tell you?” I ask, letting the word ‘did’ drag.

“The truth.” He whispers.

I turn away, staring at the scenery outside, “Which is?”

 His hand accidently brushes mine, I turn towards him and our eyes lock on each other. I finally look away feeling ridiculous for staring at him; he slowly continues patting the cloth on my head, as if it never happened.

“How many times has your dad done this to you?” He finally breaks the silence between us, and I wish he hadn’t because this question starts a battle within me.