Thirty Days

Ƭняєє;; Aρяιℓ 23я∂ 2012

Iƒ I ∂ιє, ∂ση'т cяу, ℓσσк αт тнє ѕку αη∂ ѕαу gσσ∂вує.

I slip in the back door, relieved to find that the house is empty. Both of my parents must be gone somewhere, as today is the one day off the both have of the whole week. I leave my bag by the door and slip upstairs to my room.

When i get there, I flop onto the bed and put my speaker on low volume. I grab my laptop and open it. When I put my password in, it opens to Facebook, where I have a message from Lyle Roth.

Lyle Roth

          Hey there :)

Janie Fitzpatrick

          Hi... do I know you?

Lyle Roth

          Haha... not exactley. I added you cause I thought you were cute. You were in my mutual friends... Plus we have the same music taste!

Janie Fitzpatrick

          Hmmm.. Okay. But you have to answer one thing to prove you are who you are.

Lyle Roth

          What's that?

Janie Fitzpatrick

          A face pic. Of you. With a piece of paper saying, "Hi, Janie      Fitzpatrick."

Lyle Roth

          Haha, sure thing, cutie ;)

My heart fluttered as he said those things. The voice was quiet for a while, not saying anything even though I was feeling so good about myself. But then it all came back to me. Blake's hands. My head underwater.

Lyle Roth

          Sent a new picture message!

I don't bother to read it, closing my laptop and laying down. In minutes, I've drifted off to sleep, the daylight outside keeping my room bright.

My mother shakes me roughly, relief flooding her eyes when she sees mine open. I stare at her in confusion, still stupid from sleep.

"We got a call from the school... then we came home and found you like this... I thought you'd done something... again..."

I shook my head at her. "I'm sorry for the, mom. I really am. And I'm better now. I love you."

She smiles at me and gives me a hug, brushing back my hair the way she used to when I was little.

"Come down, we got Pita Pit, your favourite."

My stomach rumbles at the thought, and the voice is silent. I follow her downstairs and dig in. I eat half and save half for later, knowing I'll want to eat more instead of throwing it out. The voice has still been silent, but the bruises on my body are starting to make themselves more noticeable, screaming for attention. I go through the motions, ignoring the pain. My parents smile at my participation in dinner tonight. All is calm. All is well.

When I climb the stairs to my room, I lock the door and sit on my bed, slowly taking my clothing off. I stand in front of the vanity mirror when I am undressed. The bruises are more noticeable now, against my pale skin. As my eyes wander my hideous body, the voice comes back.