All I saw was black. I had no idea where I was, but I know I wasn't home. It was cold. And dark. And I was laying on a rough surface. Suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my stomach, and I hear muffled voices.
"Bitch!" I hear a girls voice scream.
I felt another pain in my stomache. They continue to kick until I heard sirens. "Lets go!" One of them yell. I hear the foot steps fade away. After a few minutes of laying there, I finally get up and limp to my house, vision still blurred.
I open the door to my house, and I heard more yelling. My drunken father walked in, a bottle in his hand. "Where -where the hell have you been?" He slurred and hicupped.
"No where"
"Dont lie to me!" He yelled a threw the bottle at me. I let out a whimper. "Now, im gonna ask you again. Where. The hell. Have. You. Been?"
"I TOLD YOU NO WHERE!" I yelled but regretted after I got a slap to face.
"That is no way to speak to your dad!" He snapped, and hit again. Grabbing a hand full of hair, he threw me across the room. "DO YOU THINK I LIKE BEING DISRESPECTED?!" He continued to yell, but I didnt answer.
"ANSWER ME!" He grabbed my shirt and I could smell his achohol filled breathe. He threw across the room again but this time I managed to escape his drunken rage. I ran down the hall and closed my door, lockimg it. He banged for a few minutes but stopped, so I assumed he was tired.
I finally relax but go to my dresser and find my razor blade. I pull my pants down and cut my skin until it was numb.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Pieces
JugendliteraturLogan is a beautiful lie Imogen is the painful truth. Logan is the sun Imogen is the moon. They are very different, but togther they make the perfect storm
