amongst the stars~(complete)

28.

Claire works from 7 AM to 3 PM Monday-Saturday.

While she's at work I clean the house and play with her kitten, Bear.

He's a soft calico kitty full of energy and he likes cuddling. I like Bear.

On Sunday when Claire doesn't have to work she insists on taking me shopping for clothes of my own but I reject her offer. She continues to persist but I tell her that I'll get my clothes from my parent's house when they're not home.

She doesn't think it's safe and she tells me to wait until she can go with me.

I leave Monday morning after she goes to work.

I walk there and when I finally arrive I feel the numbness of bad memories returning to me and I'm touching to healing marks on my neck.

I don't feel this. I won't allow myself to feel this fear. This immense sadness.

I walk around to the back of the house, my feet sink into the snow covered yard that has yet to be shoveled this year.

My window is open and I struggle to lift my body through it, when I finally do I take a deep breath and gag instantly.

It smells like shit in here. I hold my breath and look around the room...

It's absolutely trashed...

My bed frame is flipped over and the mattress is leaning against the wall on opposite side of the room. My black duvet is wrinkled up on the floor, my dresser is laying flat and the wood has splintered from being thrown around. My clothes are littered everywhere.

I grab my school bag and begin shoving clothes in it. I didn't have much of a wardrobe so all my clothes fit pretty easily.

I didn't bother wondering what happened here. I already knew.

He noticed I was gone and had a tantrum, he trashed my room and probably trashed my mother in the process.

I know I shouldn't and I really don't want to but every part of me is wondering if my mother is okay...

I step toward the door and it creeps open with the subtle tap of my finger.

I look up and down the hall, I hear nothing.

I make my way towards the living room and peek around the corner.

He's sleeping on the couch and she's silently picking beer bottles off the floor.

She doesn't look like my mother...her face is covered in bruises and the deep bags under her eyes give her the complexion of a corpse.

I step back to my room and crawl out the window.

I don't regret walking away.

I wonder if she regrets letting me.