unconsciously searching

Chapter 4

I slowly opened up the front door to the house and walked in, thoroughly listening and searching to see if anyone was home. I got into the kitchen, sure enough there was a note for me on the counter "Gem, clean your goddam room and make super for Lisa or your out".

One thing I have learned, foster family's always seem to blackmail you into doing things because they know you will do them.

I made my way to my bedroom, which by the way, was actually a walk in closet, that they put a fold out bed and a plastics desk. I don't even get a pillow.

It was hard not to feel bad for myself sometimes. There are days were I just want to walk up to people and ask them why my life is so terrible, ya know? But only weak people do stuff like that. So I suck it up and live life.

Suddenly, the door opened. I held my breath, trying to hear a voice I could make out.

"Gem?"

I paused, midway through making my bed

"Yea?"

"Could you come here for a second please?"

I slowly opened the door and walked to the living room

"Yea?"

Mark, my foster dad (well, not really a dad, but that's what I'm supposed to call him) stood at the fridge, looking into it with an empty face

"Have you seen my last bottle of beer"

He said it as if it was a statement, not a question.

I shook my head. I honestly had no idea.

His face slowly became streaked with red, a vein became visible on the side of his neck. I heard him mumble some things under his breath but I couldn't make out what he was saying.

Then there was silence.

It lasted for almost a minute before he turned to me

"You son of a bitch, you stole my beer!"

I shook my head. I knew this was going to happen. I stepped back out of fear. Not again. Not tonight.

"I... I didn't!"

He walked towards me

I wrapped my arms around my head

"Please!..."

That was the last thing I said before his fist met with my stomach.

I was winded and I felt my head make hard contact with the side of the glass table, I heard it shatter and then everything went black.

I was quickly awoken out of my black haze when Mark was on top of me, punching my face.

I searched for some sort of pain in felt on the outside. But the only thing I could actually feel was the ache in my heart. I wanted to cry and I wanted, even though I was ashamed to think it, I wanted my mom back.

My mouth tasted like blood and I could feel the back of my head was covered in something wet and hot. I figured it was blood.

I became limp, I felt hot tears make a think layer around my eyes, then they slowly made their way down the side of my cheek. Mark stood up

"I'm going to go buy some more beer"

I quickly wiped away the single tear that stained down my face. The door shut and once again I was alone.

I needed to leave.

I slowly got up and made my way outside. It's was 6:00 but it was already dark. I walked down the dark, cracked sidewalks of Chicago, Illinois. Picking out pieces of glass out of my hair.

I stopped by a closed thrift store and looked into the dark window.

I retained a gasp when I saw my reflection. My eye was swollen and black and a bruise covered up the whole left side of my face, perfectly the size if Marks hand. There was blood around and in my mouth and my lip was split open. I was scared but I didn't know who to tell or what to say.

So for the time being, I found and bench to sleep on.

I guess you could say I had been through worse.