Bad Blue Woebegone (Fourtris AU)

[1]

I remember the blood. I remember him screaming, lifting the knife and wedging it into my mom's abdomen.

She never screamed. I remember her telling me to run, and that she loved me, but I just blinked at her, still shocked by the actions. I was frozen, traumatized.

He told me to get out, or I'd be next, and I ran. I ran with all my might and I never looked back.

I should have stayed. I should have let him kill me. I should have died from blood loss just like my mother. It would have been the brave thing to do.

She was my rock, and without her, I'm swaying. I've tried to tumble, many, many times. Each try failing in their own unique way.

My cold hands touch the doorknob, shivers wracking my body. My hands shake as I lift the key to the lock, struggling to get it in.

The door swings open with a creak, drawing the surrounding people's attention. Some were clustered in angry groups, curses and flesh upon flesh rising from where they fought. Others stalked with their eyes, their fingers twirling their cigarette between their fingers. They acted as if the pain of the heat didn't bother them.

Pain is always there. You can't ignore it. Even you try to, it comes barreling back, disguised as karma.

Stepping into the dark apartment, I shut the door behind me quickly. Too many people have tried to follow me inside.

I lock all three locks, flicking on the dim lights and padding to the kitchen.

I take off my many layers, throwing them on the counter and pulling the carton of orange juice from the bare fridge.

Taking a drink, I carry the carton to the couch where I take a seat, staring at the blank wall in front of me.

In my entire apartment, the couch is my only furniture other then my bed.

Placing my forehead on the arm of the couch, I let out a shaky breath, holding back tears.

I look down at my arms where uneven lines glide up and down the pale skin. Some are fresh, others just reminders.

The sob I was trying so hard to hold in escapes. More follow, shaking my little body until I have to curl up to stop from falling off the couch.

When I have no tears left, I stand on my shaky legs, and walk towards the bedroom. Kicking off my shoes, I stare at the empty bed, feeling utterly alone.

Burrowing myself in the cool sheets, tears fall again. I just want them to stop.

I want everything to stop.