Twenty Very Short Stories.

Scarred

He left scars, so many scars, both physically and mentally. I looked down towards my wrists and the lines of red covering the burns and the once rubbed raw skin. Everything reminded me of him from the chair in my kitchen to the burns on my arms. I woke up screaming every night, remembering what I didn't want to remember. I remembered the hunger and thirst. I remembered the pain and suffering. I remembered the look on his face as I screamed in agony the acid burning holes in my skin and dripping onto the floor. I remembered the burning sensations as the tears forced themselves through my tightly shut eyes and fell to the ground mixing with the acid. I remembered his laughter as I begged him to stop.

I could do nothing to stop him then and I can't do anything to stop the memories now even though he isn't even here. Finally I was going. Finally after years of waiting and screaming I was leaving. No one was here to stop it and no one would care. Again I looked down at my wrists. The red was running down my arms and meeting the floor, the pain wiped my mind clear and brought me back to reality. I was alone and no one would miss me. Yes he was finally getting what he wanted but it had taken me five years to finally give up and give in to him. So surely that must count towards something. The pain hit hard this time and a scream escaped my mouth piercing the walls and shattering the silence before I could do anything about it. My wrists spilled more red as I dug into the tender flesh. I looked around seeing stars floating around my head, teasing me, taunting me. I lifted my arm catching each star as I lay on the ground. I caught the last star leaving myself in total darkness, but not before wishing that someone cared enough to find me laying here on this tiled floor with red swirling around me.