Sexy Doesnt Make Innocence

Prologue

"Under my bed was my safe place. A place filled with memories that threatened to haunt me for as long as I lived. Memories that will forever be seared into my head. " - Anonymous

／人 ◕ ‿‿ ◕ 人＼

Everybody has a unique story to tell, but to be able to tell the tale, you must survive the storm.

／人 ◕ ‿‿ ◕ 人＼

I skipped along the bushy stone pavements, my hands swaying back and forth. The autumn breeze brushes past my petite body, sending shivers through my spine. I held the urge to fly. The urge to be blown by the wind. Blown away from reality.

I heard faint sounds of wind chimes as the wind grew stronger. The wind causes the leaves to spiral, tiny leaf-tornados formed ahead of me.

As I kick a tiny pebble, I tripped over my shoelaces and fell on my bottom. I wobble up to find that I have lightly scraped my dry knee.

That did not affect me as much as it would.

My parents had promised me the day before that we would go out to dinner at Anne's. My favorite place to eat.

It was not my favorite place because it was the only place we could afford to eat real food nor because they had the best lasagnas in the world. I was glad we were going to Anne's because it was the place we for once would not look like a dysfunctional family. It was the place where my parents would pause their constant bickering and took awareness that they had a son and daughter.

I snap out of my thoughts and continue walking.

Broken pavement was enclosing the house that I referred to as home. Dark green weeds were growing spontaneously between the broken cracks of the stones.I take the long rusted key out of my pocket and insert it through the small opening on the deadbolt. Quietly peering inside, I notice that the lights are left on.

The silence of the whole house was suspicious. There was no hum of the broken down refrigerator. The fan wasn't on. And the most suspiciously, my parents weren't fighting.

A whimper cried out from my mother's room. Confused, I quietly crept up the steps listening to the sounds around me attentively as if they were clues to what was going on.

Her door appeared in front of me. My legs felt as limp as cooked noodles. My head felt like a grenade, on the verge of exploding. My feets felt like giant boulders, unable to move.

My mom never cried.

Throughout all the shit my "father" has put her through, she never broke down. Not in front of us. She stayed strong. She was stone cold.

I had been ready for this day. We all knew this was gonna happen. But it still hurt like a bitch to actually not sense his wicked presence. I trace the scratches of the broken remnants that was the post on the stairwell.

I was once ashamed of my lifestyle. There was no extra money to refurbish our home. I had gotten used the sleeping on the dirty mattress with nothing but a thin dirty blanket that we had stolen from the junkyard. Our house was filled with traumatic memories of my mother and father fighting. Money was a tight situation for our family. We barely had enough to eat a meal every day and our house was not in a good shape either.

I barely had the will to see them together. So it should have been a relief that I saw only one.

I never understood why she never left him. I don't think I ever will.

My "father" has cost me a lot. He has cost me my ability to love. My ability to trust. And my ability to live.

I snap out of my deep thought when I hear my brother's voice.

I quietly crack the door open with my shaky hands, peering inside. My mother was on the ground; crying. My fourteen-year-old brother rubbing her back, as a form of pity. I quickly made my way over to her, kneeling down to her height. Patting her frizzy hair down and gently rubbing small circles onto her back while trying to calm her down. We were like that for a few hours.

I didn't mind her crying. How could I? She had her feeling bottled up for quite a while now. She was my mother and I would let her cry to her soul's extent. I looked down at my mother to see her eyes puffy and red. Her lips were swollen and bleeding. Bleeding pain.

She suddenly got up. She sat on her knees in an uncomfortable position. She looked at us dead in the eyes. Showing signs of fear in her face. She was so frail and weak. She finally managed to stutter something. Something that we wished we hadn't heard, yet something we wish would happen.

"He's . . . gone," I saw the hurt she felt, "And he is not coming back."

✿✿✿

A/N-  Waffles & Pancakes

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