Memoirs Of a survivor

60. Confess

Dad had stopped taking me to the fights, he would threaten me in the mornings, and I'd have to make my own way there
"make sure you go to the fights, or ill really put you to work, and trust me it will be a lot worse than the beatings you take now." he would say to me. I'd sniff and accept what he was telling me before going off to school. Tonight was no different. I had been told to go to the fights that night, and as usual I wasn't looking forwards to it. I had spent the whole day counting down the hours until I had to get my face pummeled in again. Hoping that some mysterious event would happen, and R would cancel the fights for that night.

I prepared for the fight, putting on the clothes, packing a bag full of water, plasters, bandages and hand sanitizer into my bag, then sat down and ate. I made it to 8 o'clock of doing nothing but reading, before I sighed and put my book down, to go and get changed. Once I was changed I hot footed out the door to go to the ring.

I sighed as the bell signaling the fights beginning came on, I didn't enjoy this, I hated it, I came home with blood on my hands, and bruises over my ribs. I was lost in thought as I put the last person down, it was second nature to me now, I analyzed the first few hits, then moved to put them down, I had gotten it down to 6 steps now, it didn't take long for them to hit the floor leaving me as victor. That night I had 8 fights, winning them all but still taking a few hits, the announcer palmed me a bit of money, from a bet he had made with someone, and I grasped it, and cleared out of the ring in desperate need of a drink. I didn't wait for my father, because I had seen him earlier with a woman, and I knew he would be hanging around here for hours with her. I pulled my hoodie up around my head as I walked, still thinking about how thirsty I was. I could feel the fuzzy material of the jumper I was wearing sticking to the sweat, and other people's blood that was on my torso. I was way too hot, but I didn't want people to see the blood on me, or my body under the jumper. As I was walking I couldn't wait any more for the drink that I needed, and pushed my way into a speakeasy that I was passing, and tapped on the bar ignoring the rowdy crowd around me.

The bar tender came over "what can I get you pretty lady?" I frowned inwardly at his term of endearment, but kept my expression neutral as I replied
"something cold, and without alcohol" raising my voice a little over the chatter of the drunk people. The bar tender nodded, and came back with something in a clear glass bottle. I took it, and went to sit over in the corner which was dim, but still bright enough. Sitting down and pulling out my book and unzipping my cardigan, it was dull enough that no one would notice the blood spattered girl in the corner. I made sure that my hood was still pulled over my face, and began reading. I took a long drag of the sweet drink inside the bottle, and then pressed it over the bruises forming over my stomach I kept on reading, ignoring everyone else in the building as I relaxed for the first time that night.

I was there for hours, just reading, and enjoying the anonymity. I had put hand sanitizer on my hands, and removed the bloody wraps I had been fighting in. my hood remained up though, as I sat enjoying the night. Eventually the bell rung for last call, and people all began to get up, and make their way over to get their drinks. I had stayed out so late in the hope that my father would have come home, and gone out again, and I could avoid the beating. On the way out of the bar I checked the time on the wall 2.45 it read. I hoped I had managed to avoid him.

I walked down the sidewalk, sticking mostly to the shadows, so that no one would see me, or try and speak to me. As I neared the bright lights of an all-night store, my stomach started to grumble; I sighed, and slowly wondered inside going in search of food. I was stood in front of the snack food, pondering over if I wanted popcorn, or chips. Deciding that I needed sugar to keep me going, I picked up a large bag of the sweet popcorn and moved on to the microwave meals. Picking one, I went to the till to pay.

I had almost made it out of the shop when I heard someone call my name
"Scarlett?" I turned to be greeted by Nate's smiling face. I didn't want to see anyone, so I huffed out a breath and plastered on a fake smile
"hi, how are you?" I questioned
"I'm good, glad I caught you. I need to speak to you" he had a serious expression on his face. I raised my eyebrow looking over him, wondering why he was being so serious. He leaned into me. I didn't move as he pulled my head for wards and gently placed a kiss on my lips, then let go
"Scarlett, I- I think I" he stumbled over his words, but I didn't know what he was trying to tell me, I was confused 'why did he kiss me? Why did I let him? What is he talking about?' I stood still, waiting for him to clarify what he was talking about. He huffed out a frustrated breath then collected his thoughts; all the while I stood confused
"a good man once told me that if you like someone you should tell them before it's too late. So I'm telling you, it's you Scarlett, I like you" the floor dropped from under my feet, and I was in free fall, with nothing to hold onto "I see you leave every day, and it kills me that you aren't leaving with me, I've watched you grow up, and get better at fighting, Scarlett," I had started to back away from him, but he kept walking to me
"no, no, no" I let out confused and strangled moans. He reached out and pulled me to him "I'm enamored unto you" I struggled out of his hands, and stepped back away from him, just concentrating on breathing
"you can't," I finally looked up to him "I'm no good for you," I looked down at my bloody knuckles, he started talking, but I backed away some more "I'm broken" I whispered and looked down at my bloody knuckles shaking my head, I turned and ran out of the store leaving him on his own. The look on his face, followed me home that night, his desolate expression, kept replaying in my mind.

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't hear my father come home with a woman, until he was stood angrily in front of me. I had been playing with the microwave meal in front of me for about an hour, having only managed to eat about a quarter of it. I looked up into his angry face, as I pushed the food away from me. I expected worse than the hit he gave me, but I accepted his gentler slap over the head. Which I knew would leave a red hand print on my face and over my ear, but I didn't care. I sat and ignored him as he made sloppy noises with the woman he had brought home. I sighed and got up from the table, putting my rubbish in the bin and leaving the popcorn for my father to eat later. I sighed and got in the shower, thoughts of Nate still plaguing me. How could he like me, I'm damaged goods? I mean look at me, the marks all over my body, and not to mention the emotional and Psychological scars that there would be there. I stood in the shower, methodically cleaning the blood off me like a zombie, I was tired, and all I wanted to do was sleep. Eventually I made it to bed, and I was out like a light.