Save Me

College Bound

Tobin's POV

I was packing upstairs when I heard a yell. My dad was yelling at Perry about something and I heard a door open and slam. Perry must have left again. Footsteps became loud and quickly approached my door. I cringed and I knew what would happen next. Whenever my father gets angry he takes it out on me. The scars all over my body from him and myself remind me of how much he hates me everyday.

My door swung open and my father stood there looking frustrated and pissed. He looked me in the eyes and said, "go to the basement now."

I dropped the cloths I was about to pack into my suitcase and froze.

"I said now!", he yelled.

I quickly moved out the door brushing past him. He reeked of alcohol. He shoved me the rest of the way out of the door and follows closely behind me into the basement. I was shaking knowing what was about to happen next, because it has happened so many times before so I know how much this will hurt.

"Please, i have to go to college tomorrow, please don't do this now", I begged hoping he would change his mind, but begging never dose.

He grabbed me firmly by the shoulder and shoved me into the wall as I cried out in pain. The only fuelled him on more.

Ever since my mother died he blamed me for it. She committed suicide and no one knows why. I guess my father thinks it was my fault. I'm starting to think it was too.

He leans close into my ear and whispers, "since you will be at UNC I guess I will have to give you something to remember my by", he chuckles darkly after.

I gulp and accept the fact that there is no getting out of this one. I tense up as he runs his hand down my jaw to the tip of my chin. A tear falls down my face as his whole attitude changes. He quickly swung his fist into my face sending me to the ground clutching my cheek. He split it right open and blood trickles through my fingers.

"Please, stop! I'm sorry!", I yelled even though I have nothing to be sorry for.

"Shut up!", he spat as he swung his foot into my ribs. Over, and over again. After he is done kicking me he grabs me by the collar of my shirt and lifts me up against the wall. I struggle in his grip but it's no use, he's to strong. I cry out in pain as he smashes his knee into my ribs.

"This is your fault!", he yelled, "She's dead because of you, you stupid bitch!"

I spat up blood onto the floor gasping for air. "IM SORRY" , I cry out as he connects his fist with my cheek once again.

He drops me to the floor and it goes quiet. I'm in to much pain to move so I stay on the floor curled up into a ball. I hear a scraping sounds as he walks closer to me dragging the crowbar along the ground. I whimper out as he stops behind me.

"Get up", he orders.

I can't, I just lay there in pain silently crying. "I SAID GET UP!", he yelled.

I sobbed out loud and whispered, "I can't", quietly because my voice was gone from yelling. He swung the crowbar and hit me in the back. I screamed out and arched my back trying to stop the pain, but only made him hit me more.

I got 28 hits tonight. That's a new record. After the last hit he dropped the crowbar and went upstairs and left. I silently thanked God he was gone. I couldn't get up though. Every time I moved I would cry out, so I stayed there all night. The cold concrete floor of the basement provided no heat all night.

I stared up at the ceiling, hating everything. Hating him. Hating myself.  I wanted it all to end.

I shivered and sobbed through the night. At about 6 in the morning I slowly hobbled upstairs with my back in the most excruciating pain I have ever felt in my life.

The wounds were staring to scab and every time I moved they would rip open. At least he didn't touch my legs so I could still play soccer.

Oh crap I have to pack! I went to my room and carefully took off my long sleeve shirt and bra to examine my back. Once they were off I went to my mirror and saw the damage. Long cuts and dark purple bruises covered my back from my neck all the way to the top of my butt. My torso was also bruised and my ribs were extremely painful. There was heavy bruising under my brests where he kneed me.

I wanted to cry but I couldn't. It was like I was numb, I felt nothing. I grabbed some medical wrap and wrapped it around my waist up to the underside of my breasts. I carefully put on a loose sports bra crying out every time I moved to quickly.

I looked back down at my arms. My biceps and shoulders we bruised and tender, but I wasn't looking at that. I was looking at the cuts all up and down my wrists. I did that to myself. It's the only way I can make myself feel anymore. I know how fucked up that is, but it's the only thing that keeps me from ending it all together. If pain is the only emotion I can feel then I would rather feel that then keep on feeling nothing at all.

I picked up the razor on my desk and held it to the top of my forearm. I slowly dragged it across my skin making sure to feel every ounce of pain. It was a good pain. Something I could control. Unlike the beating I received about once a week if I'm lucky. A tear dripped down my cheek and my cut started to sting as the tears passed over it.

I grabbed some more medical wrap and wrapped my forearm. Once done with my medical treatment I slowly pulled on a loose t-shirt and a baggy sweater over top. I decided on some sweats because the car ride to UNC would be long.

I finished my packing and rolled my suitcase to the top of the stairs dreading having to lift it down with my injuries. Just the the door bursts open and Perry walks into the house and spots me at the top of the stairs. She dose not know what my dad dose to me, and I intend to keep it that way. She looks at my face and frowns.

"Toby? What happens to your face?" , she questioned reaching out to cup my cheek.

I shied away and said, "I slipped in the shower and split my cheek on the rail", I lied.

"Tobs, you have to be more carful next time! You could have gotten really hurt.", Perry tells me as she wraps me in a hug.

I whimper and she squeezes my back. She looked at me questioningly and I blurted out, " I'm just really sore from soccer yesterday."

I guess she bought it as she shrugged and said, "come on Toby we have to get on the road if you want to get to college on time. You can't be late on the first day" she states.

She looks between me and the suitcase until she finally gives in and grabs it and pulls it down the stairs, out the door, and into the car. At least I won't have to see my father at UNC and I will be there with my best friends Ashlyn, Hope and Julie.

I sigh, thinking about how nice it will be to not be beaten every other day. Maybe it will get better.