Saving Scout O'Brian

8- Decisions, Decisions

•In My Veins By Andrew Belle•

Eight

"Wait! Stop! I didn't do it, I swear!" I yelled, attempting to back away as he took purposeful steps towards me. The terrible smirk he always wore firmly planted on his face.

"Don't you lie to me, bitch." A punch to my jaw sent me flying into wall where I then smacked my head. Glass rained down on me as a picture frame broke and fell, narrowly missing my head. The stinging pain of the glass made me see stars for a moment as I tried to crawl away.

I attempted to curl in on myself as his heavy boots thudded across the floor. His greasy hand wrapped around my arm and pulled me up, nearly dislodging the appendage from its socket.

I cried out, but he just clamped a hand around my neck and shoved his face into mine. Putrid breath rolled over me in waves and I struggled not to gag, already dangerously low on air.

"I told you what would happen if I ever caught you stealing from me again." Dread coiled in my stomach and tears immediately flooded my eyes and spilled over my cheeks as he threw me towards the bed.

"No, not again! Please." I begged, struggling to get away.

"It's too late for begging. Now be a good girl for me."

I shot up in my bed, sweat pouring down my skin and my breathing exploding into frantic gasps for air. I twisted, feeling the sheets wrap me in a vice grip. The floor was as hard as rock as I landed on it as I tried crawling to the shower. The cold water shocked my system before I got used to it and before long it poured over me and sent my whole body blissfully numb.

My mind was dead as I stared at the tiled wall in front of me. It's been so long. So long, and yet he's still tormenting me. My body trembled as the ghost of his revolting and unwanted touches continued to torture me. My clothing was soaked but I couldn't find it in me to care. I wasn't sure how long I stayed there before I truly became cold.

My limbs felt like cement as I tried to move myself from my position in the bathtub to my closet. Changing out of my wet clothes was almost painful. I moved like a robot, unseeing and unfeeling.

"Mommy?"

I sighed and scrubbed a hand over my face, muffling a curse. Guilt rushed into me as I shuffled to my door and opened it, revealing a puffy faced Charlotte. I must've woken her when I got in the shower.

"Baby? It's very early in the morning. Are you alright?" I asked her, frowning in concern.

Her lower lip trembled and she looked up at me with watery eyes. "I cwoudnt sleep. I heawred you being sad." I cursed inwardly again. If I was calling out in my sleep again, then this was a lot worse than I thought.

I sighed again and leaned down to pick her up, my heart immediately settling at the familiar feeling of her on my hip. Charlotte may have been created out of pure malice and pain, but she was in no way unwanted.

I laid her down beside me and smiled as she immediately curled into me. "Mommy just has bad dreams sometimes sweetheart. It's okay, don't be afraid." I whispered, stroking her hair softly.

Her little hand came up to run over my face softly before she grabbed my hand and started drawing little symbols on it. I smiled at the familiar game. I'm not proud to admit it, but whenever I had a particularly horrible episode, one that would last for days, Char and I decided this "game" to calm me down. Her hand would touch my face in five places; both cheekbones, my forehead and chin, and the tip of my nose, before she'd lower it and trace drawings into my palm.