And suddenly my eyes opened again, blurs became shapes, colour returned. The ringing from my head and ears stopped and I began to recognise real noises. I passed out again but they kindly let me awake alone in my room. I don’t know whether to make the mistake and move just yet, I don’t want to recognise the damage done to my body, I close my eyes and cry, softly. I don’t want them to hear me, so I cry softly and elegantly, a small cry like a ballerina does when she gracefully hurts herself dancing. Whereas I look like a wreck, I know I do- I always do, I look like I’m a prostitute who’s sold herself and got caught in a mess. My cries began to get louder and hysterical and everything that happened the night before hits me, terror hits me and I realised I let out a hysterical cry. I listened, no noise, no shout, no, nothing? They must of gone out. I decided to take this advantage and get up, I winced with pain as I lifted myself of my front, my arms were shaking, im weak. Sitting on my backside I see I’ve still got school uniform on, well just the base of it, shirt and skirt. I look towards my desk at my digital clock it’s 5.52am. FUCK, last time I looked it was 4.48pm, yesterday.
I’ve been passed out for over 12 hours, that must be the longest one so far. With that I cried more, uncontrollable cries that make me flop back on to the floor, ignoring the pain and curling into a ball holding myself. Its not going to get better, its just getting worse. Their punches are getting harder, their anger getting stronger and their words hitting deeper. Each time I pass out I wake up after longer until one day my preys might be answered and I wont wake up. I pull myself together and force myself to get up, and with one cry im up. Painful but bearable. Im just thankful school finished yesterday for the summer holidays so no one saw me like this, I know its bad, I can feel it. I go to walk to the mirror when pain shots in my ankle, fuck please don’t be broken again.
I look down at it and check it over. Ive becoming my own nurse looking after myself over the last 3 years. Nope, not broken, probably sprained. With that I limp to my mirror. I look up from the floor to my reflection and im met with Satan. Okay, I know I’m not Satan, but I’m defiantly Satan’s work. Im a mess, I should be in a horror film. It really doesn’t help my hair is dark brown with pure, pale white skin. I need to bathe and quick, before they get home. Limping to the bathroom, I thank god it’s the room next to mine and stick the plug in the hole and put the hot tap on.
Yet again I turn to the mirror in the bathroom, just wishing what I saw in my bedroom wasn’t real, but unfortunly it was. Yet again, Satan’s work is staring back at me, with it being even brighter, I see my dead eyes and the full picture of each and every cut and bruise on my face. I stare in astonishment at them all, they’re not too bad individual but together they hold a dirty picture. I looked at my eyebrows, the favourite and the only bit I like on my face or even my whole body, and I see a deep cut, that still has fresh deep blood in the wound. It’s deep, I knew it needs stiches, something I can’t do. That means I have to see someone, I cant risk it, can i? what if I go when all the older cuts have healed? No, that might be too long, I cant have it infected, it’ll be even worse. Shit, what do I do? Ill think of it when I get in the bath, I still need to annalise the rest of my body, I begin to strip off after locking the door. I hate looking at my body so much anyway, it doesn’t make it any better when you have to look for damage to it. Once full and curvy body now imitate a child’s body, one obviously being a 15 year old, gets teased for when wearing small school clothes that still cling onto your bones. A few bruises and cuts cover my body and a swollen, purple ankle pulls full attraction of eyes. I’ll get in bath and soak my body, I lay on my back with my head tilted up on the bath edge, only half of my body burning and tingling from the bath heat, a jaw dropping pain starts from my neck and shots down my spine, holy shit. My bath water around my hips start to go red, blood. I sit up immediately, and start feeling my back. Nothing, I feel nothing. I grab the mirror, fuck knows what for, I dropped it in the bath. My neck. I gentally touch the back of my neck, moving my hair to the back. Oh shit, theres something in my neck. Its small, and sharp, my fingers have been lightly sliced and start to bleed. How deep is it? Will it do a lot of damage? I don’t even know, im not a trained nurse to know all this!
After my panic attack whilst trying to keep very still, I decided to pull it out. Holding my mirror with my left hand and my arm wrapped aroung my body, big enough for me to see it all side on, I pull it out. It wasn’t deep, not at all, but blood did drip down my spine in the same place the pain did 5 minutes before. A piece of glass, they were most defiantly drinking last night. When I get out the bath I’ll try and close it and secure it will selotape. Within 2 minutes of setting this plan I get out the bath with worry the cut will get worse or open more, I don’t even know if that’s possible but I still worried about it. After closing the cut up with tape, I notice my back, it’s bruised down my spine and ive been cut. But this time there are words. They cut words into me. I couldn’t even repeat the words that they’ve put but the physical words are cutting into me emotionally now.
That's when my door swinged open, with it my parents stood. My attention went straight to the gun my Father held. That's it, I knew it was gonna to die. Years and years of pain and I'm glad I am finally going. Oh that wicked smile my Mother and Father had swipped on their faces. They better rott in Hell. With that thought the loudest noise ringed in my ears and I shot straight down on the floor, forever.
