The Hurt

Chapter 5

Jessica’s POV

I groggily opened my eyes, the sunlight was blaring through my bedroom window. At first, I didn’t remember anything; I just got out of bed and walked towards my full-length mirror, like I did every morning. As I toss my head back, hands wrapped around the back on my neck, I felt something. Maybe a beauty mark? I thought as I tilted my head at an awkward angle to see the little scab smack in the center of my neck.

My finger traced the scab and the bruises on my neck. Then I started to remember what happened last night. The attack and betrayal of my own sister. Melissa, I suddenly thought. Where was she, I hadn’t seen her since that night.

 I rush to my door, locked, can’t say that I was surprised. I then turn to my only other way of escaping, the window. There were bars on the outside; wow uncle George has been busy. I bang on my window a few times, seeing that he had also reinforced the glass; I then turned my attention to the door. I sat in front of it, screaming for at least an hour or so. Demanding to be let out and demanding to see Melissa. Eventually, I gave up. I slumped against the door and began to cry. I was so close to freedom, and even closer to getting justice.

I originally wanted to wait until the police stopped looking for me, then I would file a domestic violence claim against uncle George, knowing that my aunt wouldn’t testify against him. Once we won the court case and Uncle George was sent to jail, we would live with Aunt Kristine and try to forget the unforgettable…

Hours seemed to pass without any word from the outside world. I was starving and I had no more granola bars since Melissa and I ate them all while we were on the run. I wanted to just curl up in a hole and die.

I could clearly see what he was trying to do. He was trying to break me, make me beg for the luxuries that I once had. Well it wasn’t going to work. I just needed to find something that was going to help me pass the time.

I get up off the floor and head for my walk in closet to my right. I knew what I could do to pass the time. I kneel down in the far corner and shuffle through the pile of shoeboxes until I find what I was looking for.

A few years ago I sunk into depression for almost a whole year due to all the emotional abuse that Uncle George put me through. I put every feeling inside this box. I had multiple diaries include weight loss ones, letters to no one in particular kind of like dairy entries but deeper. I also found a bunch of poems that I had written. And at the very bottom of the box was a tissue with splotches of reddish brown and inside were two of my razors.

No, that wasn’t an option. I promised that I would never again, but I’m not going to lie, they were tempting. Instead I pulled out the stack of poems. As I read them I truly realized how dark some of them are, how dark I was. One of the first ones on top was called ‘Always Alone’ it read:

It just starts with another painful cough

In addition to that is one more sin

They remind me of how mush I’m closed off

How I kept all my feelings bottled in

Each day I knew I’d always be alone

Its seems I’d only push people away

Leaving me destined to be on my own

Showing that I never could be okay

The need to be independent and brave

It is you who I feel the need to blame

Yet, it is still your comfort that I crave

But you would just let me dwell in my shame