Chim - Mirrors

CHAPTER 4

Chapter Four

It's like I'm staring into a chocolate river.

Tears are swimming in her eyes and I want to look away but I can't. She's so close I can count every single eyelash. 

She dabs the cut on my cheek lightly, but I'm so numb I can barely feel the pain. It's just a cut. Nothing compared to the pain I'm feeling in my chest and ribs. Each breath I take is a nightmare. She puts a band-aid over my cheek, pressing down as gently as she can.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" She whispers.  Her breath washes over me, peppermint-y and fresh and I wonder if there's any flaws in this woman standing before me. 

I don't want to tell her about my ribs. But I can't hide the winces and the pain from my face and I'm pretty sure she already knows. She wouldn't be asking otherwise.

"My ribs." I breathe. She holds her hands out to me and I stare at them for a second before taking them. I feel a shiver roll down my spine as she helps me up slowly.

"Lift your shirt up." She says firmly.

"What?" I can feel my cheeks turning red and I'm thankful that one of them is bandaged, hiding my embarrassment.

"I have to see." I stare at her again, but she doesn't look at me. Her expression is furrowed in worry and she's chewing on her bottom lip, eyes firmly on my midsection. I sigh but reach down, lifting my shirt up slowly and she crouches. She lets out a little gasp and I look down at her.

"Is it bad?" I ask. She ignores me and reaches out. Her fingers are cold as they touch my skin, and I take a sharp breath in. I can feel goosebumps crawl all over my body, and I have the maddest urge to slap her hand away. I don't like people touching me...

"They're bruised, but I don't know if they're broken..." Her voice sounds broken, like static. Like she's fighting hard not to cry.

"They don't feel broken." I know it's not reassuring, but I say it anyway. They really don't feel broken. Just damaged and sore, like me. She looks up at me with tears in her eyes.

"You're not going back there." She says firmly. And I'm thankful. Thankful that she doesn't ask me why I didn't tell her the truth when I first saw her. But she doesn't understand.

"I don't have a choice. They're my carers...for now." She shakes her head, standing up and gripping my hands.

"I won't let you go back there. I can't-"

She won't let me?

"Just because we grew up together doesn't mean you can just come back into my life and tell me what to do." I snap, letting go of her. Her hands swing to her sides and she pulls back, her expression hurt and I feel like slapping myself. 

"I...Kimberley, I just want to help..." She whispers. My heart thuds against my chest wildly and I look down at the ground in shame. I didn't mean to snap at her, but I can't help it. I'm sick of people controlling me. No one's ever asked me what I want. And even though I don't want to stay in that dump with the foster father from hell, I know I have no choice.

"I know but there's nothing you can do. They're my...foster parents." I grumble. She's still shaking her head and I have the maddest urge to grab her face in my hands and stop her. But I just look her dead in the face and try to smile, which I'm pretty sure looks more like a grimace.

"It's only one more year. Even less than that. Nine more months. Then I turn eighteen and I'm out of there." She bites her lip, white teeth grazing against the skin and turning it into a bloodless white color. 

"I just want you to be safe." She reaches out, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear and I reach up and grip her wrist.

"Don't." It comes out harsh...way too harsh. But I don't want her to touch me like this. Touch me like she cares. It'll only add to the pain I'm already feeling just by being near her. 

"Kim-" And again I'm overwhelmed with the feeling of not wanting to be around her.

"I have to go." I yank the door to the bathroom open and start making my way out, but she grabs my wrist.

"Kimberley, you can't go back there!" She cries. I yank my arm away from her and walk out of her front door, shutting it behind me without a second glance.

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I'm tired. My whole body is cold and my toes feel like they're about to fall out. But I stay outside. 

I'm waiting for the lights to turn off. Waiting for him to go to bed. My phone keeps buzzing like crazy in my pocket, but I don't answer.

I know who it is.

I don't know why I can't accept the fact that Cheryl cares about me. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I never saw her again once she left me that day in the room, assuring me that it wasn't going to work out when it did. Maybe it's because she never even tried to contact me or find me once she left. Maybe it's because a part of me knows I loved her far more than she loved me. She didn't even know who I was when she first saw me on that bridge. But I knew who she was. The second I saw her face, I knew. 

And it's just the simple fact that it's impossible. No one cares about me, no one ever has. I was dumped at that Orphanage the second I was born, and every single family I've been bounced too has ended in me being kicked out and taken to another home.

So she doesn't care. It's simple. She's just doing this because she feels guilty. Guilty that she left me in the first place. Well, she can go ahead and live with her guilt, I don't care. 

The light finally clicks off and I let out a sigh of relief. I slowly make my way up the stairs. The front door is already open and I shove it lightly.

Cindy's on the couch, smoking a cigarette. She looks up when I enter.

"Who was that woman?" She asks fiercely. No 'are you okay?' No asking if I'm hurt. Why am I surprised?

"None of your business." I snap. She looks at me blankly for a second and I walk past her.

"I'm sorry." She whispers. I pause for a second. But then I keep walking, ignoring her and walking into my bedroom and slamming the door shut.