From Bedroom to City

Chapter 2

  I felt the tears burning in my eyes, but not nearly as intense as the burn on my face. I stared up at my father flaming face, his blue eyes full of dark rage.

  "NO! I WILL NOT GET YOU ANYMORE CLOTHES REWEAR THE DAMN OLD ONES, MARISSA!" His voice increased in level, shaking all of my body with terror.

  "I'm sorry Dad, I really am," I whisper, but his screaming continued. I wished for my mother to come home and stop him, to distract him so he would stop slapping me across the face. But mother was out at work and she wouldn't be coming home until 10. It didn't matter that it was Christmas vacation, we needed the money and her boss needed more workers.

  "But they don't fit anymore," I say quietly, trying to get him to reason. He grabs my white tank and yanks me toward him.

  "THIS LOOKS LIKE IT FIT SO DOES EVERYTHING IN YOUR DRESSER NOW SHUT UP!" He bellows and I give up. I nod and he releases me. Before I could run upstairs to lock myself in my room, He clutched my wrist. He smacks me hard across the face and shoves me away. I hold my face as tears cascade down my cheek. He hit me again, two times, harder then he ever has. I turn back only to see him huffing. When he sees me looking, he screams and picks up his chair and flings it at me. I run, my bare feet pattering across the floor. The chair clatters against the walls knocks me in the shin. I spit out a yelp of pain, but I continue to my room.

  I lock the door and I sit on my bed. Hot tears puddle on my faded jeans, rips at the knees. I tug them down, but it does no use, they cut above my ankles.

  I feel a scream forming inside me, a rage piecing itself together. But I was too tired of screaming and crying. I just wanted to float away, get away from here. I want to leave. I want clothes that fit and parents who don't fight. I want to be with a family who has enough money.

  I growl as I look at my jeans. I yank them off, along with my shirt. I pull out my comfy PJ's - cheap, Walmart snow man pants and a big "Let's Read!" shirt I won in last year.

  My breath continues to be heavy and the tears don't stop. I felt a cramp in my chest and new it was the ever growing want to depart from home. But there is nowhere for a twelve year old girl to run. No one who would take her in.

  I imagined the woman rubbing my back, her warm hands flowing happiness into me. I wished for her to hug me and to smell her rosy perfume.

  Most of all, I wished I could speak to her.

  Silence crept in the house. I didn't hear my father moping downstairs, I didn't even hear him leave the house.

   "D...dad?" I blubber out. More silence. I stood and carefully crept over to my doorway.

  "Dad?" I called again.

  Horror consumed my being, shocking me to the point my heart skipped a couple beats. My hands shook and I could feel sweat collect in my palms. My adrenaline kicks in and my vision swims.

  The knife barely missed.